At a CSL service recently the
director talked about respect. A lot of the talk was focused on our inner
beings. Words like honor, admiration,
esteem, praise, homage, etc and trust came up.
Holding communities in respect was also a topic of discussion. Somewhere in the talk, she mentioned “allowing
ourselves to be known” and that illuminating bulb, that had become somewhat
dimmed, went off in my inner knowing.
It got me assessing my own ability, or lack thereof, of
allowing myself to be known at that deeper level of vulnerability. A lot of people in my life believe they know
me, at least the public me. The private me is very little known. I can see now
that fact was the destruction of many of my intimate relationships. That malady was due to trust! This is going
to be a much more intimate blog, it seems. My intention is for it to perhaps
spur any others, who are little known, to trust coming forward—out of isolation
if you will.
If you understand childhood psychology, trust is built in
the first two years. The adult ability
to be vulnerable is built on that early trust.
If you trust your early caretakers, you will most likely grow to trust
others and then yourself.
From 4 to 10 months of age, my mother left me with my
paternal grandparents while she moved to another state to pursue my father. He
left to find better opportunities than those available in a small, insular,
Michigan town. He wanted a more expansive life. Being tied down to mother and
child were not in his life plan at that time of his emotionally immature
twenties. She was hell bent on forcing
marriage and parenthood on him at any cost.
Not the best of motives for building a family.
When he could not escape her, or the subterfuge she created
to trick him into marriage, he joined the Marines. It was World War II and all good men were jumping
on the good ship save Europe. Mother
returned for me and was forced into the workforce. Babysitters became my substitute mother
before age 2. Mother then divorced my father
and married my stepfather when I was 2 1/2. A new life began for me. They even
changed my last name. My own father was kept from me, throughout my childhood
by my mother and stepfather who manipulated him into allowing my adoption.
Being a stepchild is not an easy life in many cases. Four children were born of that marriage and
I became the half-sister. Cut off from
my own father by jealousy and revenge, I spent the next 17.5 years mourning
over my situation as a round peg in a square hole. If I dared to mention my
father, I was immediately shut down either with stories of his nonfeasance, or
gratitude I should have for a stepfather. Though perhaps well meaning, I was
constantly reminded of how I came to the new family and how lucky I was to be
accepted. Yet, I wasn’t.
Sensitive children absolutely know when they don’t fit in
and grief becomes a lonely endeavor that is the hard shell around their
innermost feelings of acceptance. Add to that, not looking much like the
siblings, yet sworn not to reveal my origins, fostered isolation. The family
dysfunction and violence compounded things by being forced to adhere to the
oath that “what happened in the house, stayed in the house.” Secrets
were a way of life which in turn developed into a lifelong hesitancy to ever
just be the essential me.
I was thinking a lot about this as the director addressed
respect and trust. I could feel the
many, many situations in which I hold back and keep myself somewhat
separate. Separation has been my safety.
If I don’t open the flood gates and keep the rising emotional rivers sand
bagged, no harm can come.
One of my lifelong refuges has been intellectualism and
numbers. I could stay in my head’s safety and numbers add up. While my creative side finally got expressed,
and I did a lot of work to access feelings, there was/is still that invisible
barrier to anyone getting too close. It
is like being in a room of people and you are always sitting slightly apart
from everyone. You become the proverbial
island unto yourself. Islands aren’t moored as securely as most solid land
masses. They drift, sometimes float, and
occasionally just disappear.
As I sat that day in my separate island, I realized that it
is about time that I allowed myself to be known! Not as a commodity or title, as a deeply human
emotional being. In the song Something
So Right are words: And, I got a wall around me that you can’t even see,
takes a little time to get next to me.”
Time, I think to let someone get next to me! I hope you too, who are
living behind that protection wall, will decide to crack its surface, and allow
some people in! Past time to allow
ourselves to be known!
“I spent a lot of years trying to outrun or outsmart
vulnerability by making things certain and definite, black and white, good and
bad. My inability to lean into the discomfort of vulnerability limited the
fullness of those important experiences that are wrought with uncertainty:
Love, belonging, trust, joy, and creativity to name a few.” Brene Brown
“Loving can cost a lot but not loving always costs more,
and those who fear to love often find that want of love is an emptiness that
robs the joy from life.” Merle Shain Author “Some Men are More Perfect Than
Others.”
“There can be no vulnerability without risk; there can be
no community without vulnerability; there can be no peace, and ultimately no life,
without community.” M. Scott Peck
Version II
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