Day 2 and a half: Rage Explosion!

Well, that escalated quickly.

Turns out loving yourself is dangerous. But in a good way.

Let's recap:

1. I see my son acting pitiful, angry and needy in a way that reminds me of myself and my mother. A lightbulb goes on. He can only learn to love himself by watching me love myself, so I have to do that, stat. Otherwise, a terrible and very familiar program that has been running in my family for generations will run in him. It's already starting.

2. I create a blog describing the awful nature of what I have observed.

3. I have a short temper with my boyfriend along the lines of a theme that is part of this generation-long program. The theme is this: I do all this domestic work and give all this love, and I'm feeling angry and resentful about it, because I feel owed some respect that I'm not getting.

I notice that I've blamed my boyfriend and tried to get from him the love and respect I should be providing for myself. I know this is messed up. I know its a mess. But I don't reject myself for it. I love myself anyway. Even though I'm noticing it and how bad it is. Even though I know the consequences for myself and my family. Even though I'm fuming. Even though I really want to hate myself in this moment. I don't. I accept myself just as I am. I give myself real love and acceptance.

4. I become even more aware of some dynamics in my relationship that are not working for me. Things I've nagged about, needing my boyfriend to be more loving toward myself and my son, less critical, less hostile. But instead of blaming outwardly, I determine that because I love myself, and my needs are important, it is perfectly fine to consider leaving this relationship.

Instead of that seeming horrible, it seems ok. I can picture easily a future where I am single, not building these resentments, and still have a good friendship and even business partnership with my current boyfriend. I can see taking the best parts of the relationship and leaving behind the ones that aren't fulfilling me. I feel like the captain of my own ship again. My self esteem begins to rise and the anger softens. I'm thinking for myself now. Taking responsibility for myself.

Suddenly, I become very attractive to my boyfriend. Being a very sensitive person, he feels the shift instantly. "Hang on", I can feel him thinking "This thing is alive. She's got a mind of her own. That is a big difference from one who timidly holds in her frustration or begs me to fix it for her. She's taken the reigns to her own life. Now that is attractive."

"How amazing." I think. "No matter how I try to win his attention, I can't. But love myself, and suddenly he loves me, too." Yes, we know that's how it is supposed to work, but these old programs are pesky. I'm feeling a bit free and also a bit topsy turvy. I enjoy his attention, but not like I would have in the past, not as if it is filling a great need. I have begun to fill that need myself. His attention is just a treat that coincides with that.

OK, so that is the recap. What is the next step? Well, I bring up to him how frustrated I feel about his lack of closeness and respect for my son. I've caught him off guard, and he says some things he shouldn't have about my son and my parenting. It confirms the things I've known he feels. I lose my shit. I'm enraged. I'm on the point of ending the relationship and tell him so. He knows his words and judgements were harsh. I know there is some truth to them. We have brought this ugly subject into the light, but I have left in a huff and we don't know what will come next.

I continue to love myself. I'm raging. This is the hardest time for me to love myself. I'm accepting some mistakes I've made as a parent and how they have impacted my son. So hard to love myself. But I keep on. I accept who I am, all the good, which there is plenty of, and the bad, which there is also plenty of, but I don't hate or judge myself. I accept and love myself just as I am.

I pick up my son from school. Caroline, one of the mentors says hi and asks how I am doing. I respect her tremendously, but we've never had much honest conversation. I tell her I've just blown up at my boyfriend over our different parenting styles and his criticism of my son and me. I don't feel ashamed while saying it. I respect myself and own it. I am honest and straightforward, articulate and concise. None of these are things I would be if I were judging myself how I usually do.

She hears everything, all the strengths of our relationship and the couple of challenges. She says, "Gosh, these 2 things seem like things you can meet in the middle on." I agree. She doesn't judge me for admitting to my rage and I don't judge myself. We talk about what is going on with her. The conversation is 2 way, balanced, heartfelt and brief. I connected with her in a way that strengthened both of us and that we both enjoyed. All this because I kept loving myself through this.

I decide, as I'm driving, to go home, instead of to a hotel as I had planned. I am still a bit stunned by my rage as I am calming down, but I don't abandon myself. Neil gets home and is glad I am there. We work together with the horse. We talk a bit about things. I tell him more calmly how hard all of that was for me to face, and that there are some things I really need from him for us to move forward. And that I am willing to concede and work with him on some things.

He admits that he has been long on criticism and short on love and connection with my son. We get through the day. I go outside and play capture the flag with my son. It is super fun for both of us. I have not been playing with him as much over the course of this year and a half as we are all adjusting to the new family. A lot comes into clarity for me about what he needs. How I can do better for him. How things can be better between Neil and him.

We both need to have more positive fun interactions with him and we also need to work on the issues that were bothering Neil (his back talk and not having chores). These things are pretty easy to solve. We set up a schedule.

We also pose a solution to our other main problem, that of me wanting to have space for Neil and I to discuss relationship and family issues and matters of the heart. Which Neil is always avoiding and being annoyed by. We set up a 30 minute per night meeting time for these conversations. Then I will have a forum to get this need met. And Neil can have the entire rest of the day free from worrying that I am going to blind-side him with a serious conversation.

We just solved our two biggest problems as a couple in less than 24 hours. Was it pretty? No, not really. But it was real. It was transformative. It was freeing. For all of us. And it put us on a really healthy track. I mean, the difference is amazing.

So now, here I am, the day after a huge blow up and a huge fight. The day after I almost ended the relationship. I'm calmed down. Normally, I would feel worthless, remorseful, needing reassurance that I am still loved, that things will be ok. But I don't feel any of that. I feel loveable. I really do. I know Neil loves me. I know I deserve to be loved. I know my anger was my mind/body's way of getting my attention that I have been giving up too much self. (Please, if this topic interests you read The Dance of Anger and The Dance of Intimacy right this minute.) I know that it was unpleasant for both of us. Upsetting. But I'm still just as valid a person and as loveable as ever. This is totally new.

I suspect this is just the tip of the iceburg. What else will happen as I continue loving myself? How will it alter the course of my life and relationships? How we handle difficult times, messy emotions, conflict? I am on the edge of my seat to find out. Stay tuned.

Day 2: Big Changes

Wow. Only 2 days of trying to learn how to love myself, and I am already changing in big ways.

Yesterday, I did some research into what it means to love yourself. I mean, it's kind of hard for me to wrap my head around. A quick google search led me to this article by Louise Hay and this one by Deepok Chopra. I cannot say that either article contained profound insight, but there were a couple of important take-aways.

The Louise Hay article brought my attention to the fact that when you love someone, it means that you accept them as they are right now, warts and all. I thought about that and decided it is true. When I think about the love I have for my son or my friends or boyfriend, I can see that I love them completely, just as they are. I don't love part of them and reject the rest.

This was a pretty big aha for me. OH! So loving myself would mean that I accept myself! Even when I think I am messing up or even the parts of myself I tend to judge or reject. That was a big clue.

The Deepok Chopra article more or less just clued me in to the idea that love can expand from something conditional to include everything. And as that happens, it becomes less and less dependent on the object of the love behaving a certain way. And also that as we improve at loving ourselves unconditionally we might also begin to spend more time with people who also love this fully and less time with people whose love is conditional and therefore defensive, etc.

Now, I know the post I led off this blog with, the one I wrote yesterday, was intense. And it may not have been completely fair to me either. But I wanted to get it out there, because while my self-hatred isn't the whole story, it is the part of the story that I have the hardest time fully naming and owning. Once it is named and owned, it can begin to be seen in context of a broader picture of many feelings I have about myself (not just hatred) and the complexities of my relationships.

So, this is kind of interesting. Last night I got angry with my boyfriend. I had spent the day asking myself that important question: "what would I do right now if I truly loved myself?" I had done many things just the same as I would normally, but I did them more thoughtfully and deliberately, making sure it was what really felt kind to myself.

It's not important what the argument was about, but suffice to say that the events leading up to my becoming angry pressed exactly the right buttons to trigger a response. There was some hostility toward my son as well as some of me not feeling appreciated for housework. These are 2 huge triggers of mine in this whole rejecting myself program that runs.

I went over the edge. I was really angry. I took a bowl of pasta to my son to eat in his room and left the rest of the food on the counter so that Neil could serve himself. I was too angry to eat, and went outside to the hammock.

I lied there allowing myself to calm down, asking myself, what would I do right now if I really loved myself, and listening to this youtube talk on self-love, which taught me that the feeling of loving anything (the sky, the grass, whatever we can appreciate at the moment) can be a bridge into loving ourselves. That loving and being loved are very similar. The speaker in the video spoke so fast, that it was a bit overstimulating to me in the moment, but still, it was good food for thought.

So then, something really interesting happened. I went back to the Louise Hay observation, that to love means to fully accept. One thing I totally reject in myself is anger. When I am angry, I assume that I have screwed up and am now unloveable, and I go into all kinds of weird places from there. But instead, I thought, "I love myself. Just like I am right now. Angry, yes. Maybe I am angry  because I am defensive and I hate myself. Maybe it means I will fail at all relationships including being a mother. Maybe it is part of a huge multi-generational curse. Whatever. I still accept myself just how I am right now. In the hammock. Angry. Not eating the supper I just made. In a fight with my boyfriend who thinks I talk too much and worry too much and get too angry over nothing. Who probably has a good point about all of it. It doesn't matter. I really accept myself right now. Just how I am. I really love myself. So what would I do right now, if I want to just keep loving myself?"

Well, I did things differently than I normally would have. I went inside and made a bowl of pasta and ate it by myself and read a book. I took a bath. I hung out with my son. I didn't judge myself for being angry at Neil, nor did I need to justify it. Maybe I was over reacting. Maybe I wasn't. It didn't matter. I didn't need to talk about it or solve it or change it. I let myself just do whatever felt most loving and best.

At the end of the night, Neil and I had not spoken at all, which is fine, because he is very solitary anyway, and I am usually the one trying to drum up some interaction. I went to bed with him. We lay there quietly in the dark. It was early. I had told my son to go to bed after his movie was over. He wanted a bowl of cheerieos before bed, so I told him that would be fine.

At 9PM his movie finished, he went into the kitchen to eat a bowl of Cheerios. Neil heard him and started in with the familiar hostile "what is he doing? why is he up? Why is he being so noisy?" Anger, anger anger. It provokes me. Of course, I want to defend my son, but I often end up trying to appease Neil instead. This time, I didn't. I said "Hey, he is doing what I said he could do and then going to bed on time. There is no problem here." But because we were both super angry, I just went into my son's room and slept with him.

It felt good. I wasn't judging myself. I was letting myself feel the anger. Letting myself consider that maybe I don't want to be in a relationship with someone who doesn't enjoy philosophical conversations or much conversation period, who finds it annoying when I speak about my feelings. Who doesn't want to cuddle or show love in any of the ways I am used to recognizing it, through kind words or touches. Who takes for granted the cooking, cleaning and rearing of mine and his children, and doesn't even notice or act very kindly about it. Maybe, despite all of our strengths as a couple, if these things feel intolerable to me, the self-loving thing for me to do would be to leave.

Suddenly, being single didn't feel so lonely. It didn't feel like failure or heartbreak. It didn't feel like not being loved, like being rejected. It just felt like being loving and kind to myself and not trying to get water from a stone or whatever. Not trying to bend over backward to make someone love me and then get angry when they don't.

Interesting. Just yesterday I was posting about the destructive nature of doing this. But now I am seeing more of the picture. I don't do it just to be annoying or just because I am needy or weak. I do it because I have legitimate needs that are not getting met in this relationship, and I have decided to stay, so now I am trying every way possible to get my needs met, which does then become needy, annoying and awful. So what if I just walk away from it all?

Around midnight, Neil came to get me from my son's bed. I told him I was really considering whether or not we should stay together, given the fact that I find myself quick to anger recently, and that is perhaps due to us just not being compatible in terms of my need for deep conversation and intimacy. I said it very non-aggressively, and I truly wasn't seeking any kind of reaction from him. In fact, I was just in my own thoughts mostly, really considering these possiblities and actually liking them.

So this is what it feels like to love myself. At least in this moment. It feels like honoring my anger and my hurt and my needs and deciding that I am willing to meet my own needs even if that means moving out of the house or whatever. I wasn't reactionary. I wasn't making any sudden decisions. I was just considering things. And things were looking much different.

Well, guess what? Neil could feel it. Suddenly, he became very snuggly and loving toward me all night and morning. Really present. Really close. Isn't that interesting? No matter how I try to get some intimacy and affection from him I feel rebuked. And now, I finally, truly, really 100% am just like, ok. I'm going to do what I need. And instantly, he is there.

Is it because there is some game being played? Maybe, I don't know. Is it because I am more attractive when I am loving myself and standing up for myself. Definitely.

I don't know what I am going to do. I don't need to decide right now. It will become clear. But what I know I need to do is keep asking myself this question over and over and over: What would I do right now, if I truly loved myself?

Starting from Here

I'm going to say this in as few words as possible. I hate myself. I learned it by watching my mother hate herself. And now my son is learning to hate himself, by watching me hate myself.

My mom and I both grew up with a lot of trauma. Oh, my son, who is 8, has already had more than a lifetime share of trauma, too. So basically, despite heroic efforts from each generation, we have not been able to prevent the next generation from experiencing abuse and trauma.

I could line up 100 people who would sing my praises as a mother and a human being. I'm strong, resiliant, heart-felt, kind, open-minded, open-hearted, hard-working, creative, introspective. I grow constantly. I'm super-self aware. I'm dedicated to healing and living a good life.

I provide well for my son: a holistic private-school education, a home in the country on lots of land with horses and chickens and wilderness. I'm an accepting and nurturing parent who he can talk to about anything. But I'm here to tell you, it's not enough.

My mom was raised by an abusive alcoholic father and absent-minded mother. All 5 of their kids had some pretty serious issues. But despite her own difficult upbringing, my mom provided for me well. She made sure I had nice clothes, tons of extra curricular activities, every opportunity. I excelled in everything growing up. I know in large part it was due to her efforts to make sure I had educational and other advantages. But did it stop me from experiencing abuse? No. Did it stop me from starting to hate myself and being disowned and cut off from my family at an early age? No. Am I worried that the same thing is happening to my son? That he will one day despise me, the way I do my mom, the way I secretly do myself? Yeah, I'm pretty worried about that.

I feel my mom's pain. I know what it is like to devote your life to doing more and better for your child, only to watch them begin to act out in familiar ways, reflecting back to you the self-loathing that causes you to hate and hurt yourself in so many unconscious ways, including pushing away people who could otherwise love you. It hurts to see it reflected back to you in your children. It sucks.

I spend so much time trying to be different than my mom. She never apologizes or takes responsibility for herself. She doesn't talk about her feelings. She doesn't go to therapy or try to work on herself, on her inner self. So, I console myself that we are different.

But here is how we are the same: We work tirelessly at our careers. We devote our lives to our children and families. We don't know how to make ourselves happy. Truly happy. We do things that we don't want to do. We sacrifice our own happiness in order to do what we think we are supposed to do. Because then we will be good moms and good partners and then people will love us.

But they don't love us. Not enough and not in the right way. They don't appreciate our sacrifice. I mean seriously, when you sacrifice your own happiness for someone else, is it even possible for that person to show enough appreciation to make it worth your while? No. It isn't. So they don't appreciate what we do for them. And they don't bend over backwards to make us happy. They don't give us the attention we need, the kind words, the kind touches.

Is it because we are a bottomless pit of need and they are afraid of being sucked in to the black hole? Yeah, that probably has something to do with it. Is it because we are bitter and angry and demanding of their love? Yes, that's it, too. I mean seriously, imagine your partner constantly complaining how you don't cuddle them enough, so you force yourself to snuggle up to them. Is that cuddle going to be very open, loving spontaneous? Once it has been extracted from you by blaming you for not being loving enough? Well, this is what it is like to love me or my mom. This is what I do to my partner. I push him away, and I know that eventually, he won't ever even want to touch me. He will cringe, the way I cringe when my mom gets near me.

Eventually, when someone has bitterly, angrily extracted from you what should be given freely -when they have resentfully done things for you, and then seethed at you for not returning the favor- when you can never give enough, never escape criticism, never see them actually relaxed or happy, never just co-exist, side by side with them, without them trying to get something from you, and no matter how much you give, it will never be enough, never satisfy them, because the truth is, they hate themselves and are trying to live through you, - when that happens for long enough, you just have to get away from that person. I know it. I have lived it. And I have become it.

And I'm passing it on to my son. Recently, I have seen him experience that depth of pain that I experience. That true self-loathing. That dire need for external validation. For someone to love me, to accept me. I've seen him turn to anger, lashing out, running away, falling down in a puddle of tears when he doesn't get what he should but can't provide for himself, self-esteem. And I know I have completely failed as a parent. Because it doesn't matter how successful I am at providing every wonderful thing in the book for him, if I cannot learn to love myself, he will grow up to hate me as much as I hate myself. And he will hate himself that much in turn.

I watched this with my own mother. For all the effort she put into everything that she did, if she had just forgotten all that and mastered one thing, loving herself, we would have a relationship today. The whole family would be healthy and happy, instead of shell-shocked and deprived. But she didn't know better, and she did what she did.

I didn't really know better either. But this year, after having started a relationship with my boyfriend after having been single for quite a few years, I have seen clearly what an insecure, needy person I am. How other-focused I am. How unable I am to make myself happy, especially when I am in a relationship. I sacrifice my own happiness to try to fit some kind of mold that I think I am supposed to fit, and then I get hurt and angry because it isn't working. I've seen that in myself so clearly this year. I've even started to see it in my son.

I have worked hard to become more aware, but I don't know if I will be able to change. I would love to think I can. I know that learning to really love myself would be a revolutionary act of healing that would go forward and backward in time for many generations. I know it would be the kindest thing I could do for myself and for everyone who crosses my path, especially my family members. But I don't know how to do it or where to start.

The last couple of days I have been asking myself "what would I do right now if I truly loved myself?" That has been helping. Sometimes an unexpected answer comes to me. Last night, I got up and put socks on my cold feet rather than suffering and shivering in bed. It seems obvious, but I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't asked myself that question.

I also have found that when I am in that moment of extreme pain, feeling rejected and unloved, and I see myself starting to act out in tale-tell ways (being defensive, complaining about the other person, wanting to flee the room or the relationship), and I ask myself, "what would I do right now if I truly loved myself?" the answer is often, I would help myself calm down. I would recognize that my behavior is causing me greater harm, and that if I can give up being angry, I can start to feel better. I can start to give myself the love I need immediately and all others the space to give it in their own way and time and of their own accord.

I can recognize that they can't genuinely love me if it is being demanded of them, and that if I can calm down, they might not feel so pushed away. So, calming down is a new action that is available to me when I ask myself that question.

There are lots of other questions I still need to answer. Such as. What is love? When in my life can I be sure I have felt love? What are some examples of that? What would it look or feel like to apply that love to myself? How can I recognize when I am being unloving to myself? What are some of the signs of it that I have not yet noticed? What will I have to give up if I decide to really love myself? Can I do that? What other obstacles are in the way?

I'm super grateful for the level of awareness that I have been given so far about this issue. When I saw my son acting in some of these same defensive, butt-hurt ways that I do, and how it pushed me away, and how off-base it was, his feeling unloved, it was a wake-up call for me. I know I need to do better.

I'm pretty much putting it above everything else right now and praying for help and guidance. Wouldn't it be great, if one day I could say "Yes, I really love myself. I love my mother who is alive in me." And my son could say the same? I don't know what that looks like, but I know what the alternative is, and I hope I can learn a better way.