Letting go and having more faith, on Mardi Gras
Going back 30 years... when I was a smart, geeky kid in 1970s semi-rural Georgia... life was tough, from second grade onwards for the next eight or nine years. I was Other... called queer, fag, nerd, pansy, and whatever obscenities that 10-year-olds could manage. Driven away, forced over by the chain link fence, alone at the edge of the school grounds. I'd try to leave the fence and come over to groups of other kids at times... sometimes I could stay briefly, until one of the local bullies or popular gatekeepers noticed. Then there would be another hail of threats, verbal abuse, and often violence. I was chased away with thrown rocks, back to my-place on the edges. I can remember feeling desolate and completely alone and believing that I must be a bad person, that it was hopeless and I must deserve the abuse, somehow.
Even harder was sometimes when a (typically new at my school) kid came up to me and started playing or hanging out, starting to be friends, because then peer pressure would take hold, they'd be warned, and my friend would suddenly disappear and reappear in the rock-throwing groups. And would participate there... sometimes they'd surreptitiously slip me a note later that would tell me it wasn't personal, they really didn't think I was all those bad things, but they were warned that they would have no friends themselves or would be targeted as I was, unless they did as the others did. Then... that was harder, because a tiny flicker of hope, to have a friend and to feel like I maybe wasn't so awful, after all -- was extinguished. I learned that my friends would always betray me, when they needed to do so to protect themselves. I couldn't even really blame them, then, because why would they want what I had? 10-year-old Jay grew up with lots of coping strategies, and then started going by his first name (Brian) as an adult.
Fast forward a few decades. Like most other childhood trauma survivors, safety was a driving need for me. I'd put up barriers, make it hard for other people to get to know me, as a filter in the hope that anyone who was willing to wade through all that, was then unlikely to then turn on me and go join a group-with-rocks. It tended to select for few, but really close, friendships and relationships. But it kept many other people mystified, or at a distance. And my safety-first social interactions tended to project an uptight or fear-reactive image or energy... always half-looking for the bullies to arrive and the sticks to come out, even in a group of laid-back middle-aged poly pansexual people at a backyard barbecue, say. And as I discussed in a post last week, inclusion, or "making room" has been the strongest positive *and* negative love-language for me. If I'm included, I'm safe, no rocks are being planned.
This used to be a rational response long ago, but mid-20s Brian's fear and wariness and awkwardness did not now serve the needs of the mid-40s Jay. So a few years ago I began slowly stripping out old reactions that were impinging on my interactions with others, and leaving both my friends and me unhappy. Started intensive individual therapy, in addition to couples, in order to facilitate that and get some of the tools I needed. And went back to using Jay, although I'd never completely stopped using it at home. After several years, and despite tumult and stress in my close-in relationships, I started being able to stay more grounded, and trust more, and share my feelings in ways that could build more mutual understanding rather than online flamewars. Worked on having more faith in my own intrinsic value, and therefore it was OK to have boundaries, and therefore it was easier to negotiate others' boundaries. Began letting go of old grudges and faded quarrels. And one of the first to notice the positive changes was
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One of the casualties of my older, awkward behaviors and filters was being taken off of the invitation list of a periodic social event, last year. Given the way it was handled, I felt publicly shamed and embarrassed, and even though most of my friends there really didn't notice (well, until I later made a fuss...) I felt like I'd been made Other again, and *that my friends there saw me as Other* as well. Self-worth and safety plummeted, to the point where simply the mention of the event's name could sent me back into being that 8-year-old again, out at the fence. Expecting his friends to turn on him again, and laugh and throw rocks, even if it was just for their own reasons, so he shut them out and preemptively asked them to leave him alone around the event, trying to salvage some feeling of control and safety.
But... there was no actual evidence of any of that. Most people who participated in that event were unaware I'd been excluded, or presumably didn't care and were just there to have fun, and my friends there still liked me and probably wished that circumstances were different so I could join them in their fun. They weren't trying to endorse my exclusion by showing up, no rocks were being thrown, there was no Jay-snark-session or dartboard in the upstairs back bedroom. I was not Other, after all, even during said event. So pushing my friends away, to them, must have seemed strange and hurtful (sorry... blush).
After post-Arctic and mid-breakup stress left me completely failing at this in mid August last year, by last November I'd gotten to the point where I didn't need to put up walls or push people away. But over lunch with
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This time around, though, that event was going to be more challenging. In the past, my inclusion/exclusion triggers had been so strong around a *partner* joining in some event (that excluded me personally, not just because I was the wrong gender or age) that I'd come close to breakups twice, years ago. And at the next event, my partner
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However... I'm choosing to not do that, even. The situation still scares me, but instead of living in my fears I'm going to have faith that my sweetie will still love me, even while she's there, and likewise wishes things were different and I could be there with her. And there won't be any rocks brought back to slip down the back of my shirt at close range. I can be happy that my partner will be getting the love and support she needs from her friends and community at what is, after all, also a difficult time for her. It is a way I can show her that I care about her, and her well-being.
And rather than mope or let myself feel lonely or excluded, I'm going to go out and put my caring and energy and organizing skills to use, taking a day-long HAI Assistant's Training class on the day of the other event, learning how better to give to others, while being welcomed in that place. Go me. :)
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*dance of joy*
Lots to say, in no shape to say them, but this is very good.
Re: *dance of joy*
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*hugs*
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~Mir (sincerely)
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(And thank you for sharing your process, past and experiences.. I enjoy the opportunity to know you better).
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Gosh! I've always felt close to you with regard to these issues as I suffered the same stuff. The verbal abuse, rubber bands not rocks, violence, humiliation, isolation, ridicule, sabotage, betrayal.... having a new friend for a moment and then having them disappear to the dark side. Having people tell me in private they'd like to be friends in secret, but that they couldn't afford the risks of public friendship and they weren't willing to stand up and help me fight such sick injustice. I remember the times they even convinced teachers or counselors to side against me. Those hurt a lot. I ate lunch alone so many times... I would loved to have eaten lunch with you near the fence or invited you to one of my out of the way spots where no one could see me eat alone.
I remember hearing of your reactions to events and not understanding them. Now that you mention the connection and the inclusion/exclusion thing I get it.
I wish I could tell you how proud I am that you are my friend. I wish I could tell you what your constancy and caring means to me.
I'm over the moon to see you making this kind of progress to shake off the stupidity and short-sightedness of others you should never have had to face anyway.
*a big ol' squeezy hug and smile*
Thank you for sharing all this with me.
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You were by my side when I worked through a lot of my fear stuff, and I'm very very very glad to have come out through the other side of fear. I'm glad to hear that you're journeying through yours.
Re: mostly OT, but...
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Jay, I am SO happy to see you writing this, and to see your growth. I am proud of you.
I have watched you stumble and grow so much over the years, and at times I've given you stern feedback around when you are doing it wrong. I hope (and think) that most of my feedback to you has always ultimately been appreciated.
And this time - I want to give you the positive feedback.... You are doing it EXACTLY RIGHT. Go you!
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Yay, go me! Yes... and thanks for your steady encouragement.
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((hugs)) and thanks for sharing, and trusting me to share it with.
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Pajamas and warm kitties may be about all I'm up to. It was really THAT rough an afternoon. I think he's holed up in his room, too - so I'm not claiming I was the only one who suffered. Fortunately there was a happy ending, but WOW that was a rough journey! I wish I knew how to make it easier for both of us. *sighs* Parenting ain't for wusses, for sure!