Why am I writing this?

I’m probably not alone in the fact that there have been a few events in my life that so drastically altered the course that there is no denying their significance. These stand out head and shoulders above other moments in that I can say with no insincerity that nothing was the same again.

Although I do not want to sensationalize the anniversary of the end of the relationship that I thought would be my last, I am aware that this date is approaching. I am determined to view it not as an ending but a new beginning thus exercising my choice to frame the present in the way that best suits and empowers me.

But still, I can’t help but reflect.

The night he left was one of the longest of my life. I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t know what to feel. I was in shock. We’d spent almost every day of 8 years together and I didn’t know what to do. We were really truly codependent and I was already feeling withdrawal.

I stayed up all night researching addiction, reading blogs and watching YouTube and Ted Talk videos about people, their addictions and their relationships with addicts. Until I stumbled on this video:

That night I must have watched this video a half a dozen times in a row. I didn’t want to believe that there would be no reconciliation in my case but something about Stacey’s story made me feel better. She is intelligent, poised, and insightful. She isn’t stupid or pathetic (like I felt) and she has a similar story. I liked that she offered her experience in a way that was honest, open, and vulnerable. She owned it in a way I couldn’t imagine after so many years hiding.

In my loneliness, shame, and self-loathing Stacey gave me hope.

I didn’t do anything with what she shared immediately but I kept revisiting this video over the weeks that followed and eventually, when I was ready, I did get help. Stacey gave me a lifeline. She opened an empathic space and presented me the opportunity to find my own way. If you ever read this: thank you, Stacey! You da bomb.

Truthfully, I don’t believe there is a perfect formula to fix this kind of pain. I think we all create our own recovery programs and I’m not going to judge you if your process is different from mine. One author recommended (I can’t recall which, sorry) that we treat recovery like a buffet and sample all the available strategies and information but only go back for more of what “tastes” good. We will all get there in our own time with patience, acceptance, and understanding.

It is my hope that my story can help hold an empathic space open for someone else who feels as low and hopeless as I did. I also hope that through owning my story and writing about it I will be able to own the ending and make a better one than I would have ever considered for myself in the past.

I don’t know you but I sincerely hope that you don’t give up. You didn’t deserve what happened to you and we both know you are doing the absolute best you can to make it better. Wherever you are right now is exactly where you need to be to get where you are going. You are worthy and deserving of love, peace and happiness.

Don’t Look Back in Anger

I have a natural inclination to flagellate myself with what I perceive are my failures. I dwell on things far too long, carry them around with me like overstuffed luggage, and obsess about them long after the point where it is constructive.

I’m not sure exactly where this comes from but I process things intensely.  This is probably what makes me excellent at jobs that require attention to detail and drives my perfectionism. It also makes me vulnerable to the narcissistic tendencies of people. I’m all too willing to look at things from another person’s perspective and take ownership for their actions, even when it doesn’t make sense for the blame to rest with me.

I remember an occasion fairly soon after we moved in together where I stumbled across my ex’s credit card statement. The card was maxed and he hadn’t made a payment the previous month. This was a surprise to me because at the time he was contributing to our bills and I didn’t realize that this was at the cost of paying his own. I didn’t know that as a result of his illness he was unable to multitask and he was in a constant state of trying to juggle his commitments while only ever getting one ball in the air at a time.

When I confronted him about the statement and implications thereof, he accused me of invading his privacy and being controlling. I’m not proud to admit that I folded like a house of cards. I accepted that I was a bad partner and that he had a reason for hiding things from me: he was justified and I sucked.

For the record, I was controlling. Not at first. I never thought I would be the kind of person who would try to change someone else (and also for the record I am not interested in ever repeating that experiment), but my controlling seemed to intensify over time as I invested in our relationship and there continued to be crises that he seemed incapable of handling. Among other things, I desperately tried to take over his finances. I told myself that it was for us, his credit needed to improve. We needed to be in better financial standing in order to buy a house, start a family, travel, and hopefully someday retire. Now I recognize these were things I wanted, not things we wanted and I didn’t stop to really examine why it might be that he couldn’t handle basic problems.

Truthfully, I acted in fear. I know I was desperately clinging to the idea that we had a future and it looked something like what I thought everyone else around me had. I treated him like a child and tried to manipulate him into being the person I thought he could be.  It didn’t matter how good I thought my intentions were, it was wrong.

I felt a lot of shame.  Shame that I couldn’t make our relationship work. Shame about how I acted. Shame that I was somehow not good enough for him. Shame about the things I was hiding from my friends and family. Shame that all my efforts did nothing but make both of our lives worse… Shame is debilitating.  It holds you in the past and prevents you from moving forward.  It keeps you afraid and hiding.  Shame keeps you from being vulnerable in a good way, a way that allows you to build healthy connections.

For most of my life I have been consumed by shame. I have memories from childhood where I thought I was a disappointment to people I loved and to myself. It didn’t matter what I achieved, I focused on the negatives.  Shame made me a prisoner and a victim. Today, as much as I don’t love aspects of my past, I understand that if I hadn’t made the choices that I did, lived through those tragedies, made those mistakes, I wouldn’t be me. And that would be tragic too.

It is important to realize that there has never been a single other person like you. You are amazingly unique and you see the world in a way that no one has been able to before. You are loved. You are special. And you wouldn’t be half of those things without your messy past and collection of scars.  Don’t be ashamed, be proud. You survived and you are better for it. You have the gift of being able to choose how you frame your memories and your perspective of the world around you.

The past isn’t something to regret.  It is something to be revered.  It makes us interesting. It builds us up and forces growth if we are open to accept the lessons it presents us.

There are days when I am impatient for the things in my life that I know are coming. Those good things that I’m working to be ready to receive. I know that receiving opportunities in the present or in the future means accepting the past and not letting it dictate actions and reactions. Just because I made those mistakes doesn’t mean that will always be the case. The past does not need to be an excuse to limit the future and the range of choices available.

Try to cut yourself some slack! Don’t compare yourself to others or let their criticism get to you; I guarantee what they are showing you is not the whole story of their life and (even if it is) it does not mean that you are superior or inferior to them in any meaningful way. Like it or not, we’re all stuck on this rock hurtling through space together and most of us are totally making it up as we go. Understand that failure is not the opposite of success, they are part of the same process. If you are taking chances and trying to lead a full life you will encounter both and neither should be discounted as they both have valuable things to offer.

While you may not be a fan of Noel Gallagher or Oasis, the lyrics of the song of the same title of this blog (no coincidence) seem to resonate here. It may not have been his intent, but I choose to take from Noel a message of empowerment.

Although no longer the object of his affection, I am Sally who is finally recognizing that I need to get out of my head, loosen up, and let it go.

At least today.