I go through phases of intense interest in and observation of the people around me. These days, it's a deviation from normal action for me. Typically, no matter the group I'm in, I am the de facto greeter, rememberer of names, conversation starter and overall general participater. I wouldn't say that I seek the spotlight, and I'm not a compulsive joiner, but I've worked very hard for a long time to be able to enjoy whatever the present moment that I'm living in happens to be, and I'm interested in being a part of those moments. In business meetings, as a result of that desire for sincerity and authenticity, when everyone else is Chest Puffing or doing the Big Boy and Girl Dance of Uber-Professional Talk, I'm often the only person asking questions of others like, "How's your family? Your daughter must be in junior high school by now, right? How's that going?" In other words, I talk about life, and that always lightens the mood.
But lately I've been in a more subdued mood, probably because I'm still very physically tired and because it's February. Gawd, I hate this month. Gray, cold, holidays spent, taxes almost due, let's just hope that Spring gets here before June, February. DH calls it my Speculative Mood; I have a tendency to isolate a feeling, thought, pattern of behavior and just track it, watch it, ponder it. I learn a lot about people through this process.
I was recently at a meeting with a large group of coworkers, both those that I share office space with and several from other parts of my geographical region. There is a young lady from another office who is, er, um, well, she's rather off-putting. She's difficult to talk to. She gives very little in conversation; her primary contributions seem to involve making sure that all listening understand that she's, of course, right and oh so very smart. About everything. It's not malicious, it's more of a low self-esteem projection that comes off as, okay, well, maybe more than a little bitchy. A conversation with her can feel like a midnight stroll through a sanctimony-ridden land-mine field.
Having survived a lifetime in the B-I-N-G-O spinning ball of twisted conversation and pretentious aggrandizing that was my NFOO, I just shake it off. She's not central to my continued existence - not my boss, in other words - and I have only the most tenuous of ties to her, so I just let her be right when I find myself in conversation with her, which I noticed at this last outing was quite often. She chose at several different venues to seek out a seat next to me. When she gets all Sister Mary Francis on the soapbox, I just listen until I'm bored and then I make a joke. Most of the serious wanna-be professor types don't particularly care for my blase take on life in general, and tend to gravitate away from me rather quickly. To which I say, Coolsville Daddio, you go on over there and extol the virtues of contract negotiations and quality assurance systems and I'll be over here enjoying my tea and taking mental bets against myself about which of the coworkers is going to try to hit on the waitress. But this girl still seeks me out, after four years of contact in which I've maintained my same attitude, which when concerning business often can be summed up with a shoulder shrug and a, "Well-what-are-you-gonna-do-that's-life." or "Well-they-keep-paying-me-so-I-keep-showing-up." That one really stumps the suits and the ladder climbers.
So, later on, I had a conversation with one of my coworkers whom I actually consider a good friend and she, too, had noticed the way that Ms. Difficult follows me around. "I just don't understand why she likes me so much," I said. "I'm not particularly nice to her, but she seems to really want to be around me, I don't get it." This caused my friend to laugh, which threw me for a loop. "What's so funny?" I asked.
To which she replied, "Vanci, everybody likes you. You're the only one that everybody likes. You're like everybody's best friend. You're the only one who cares about everybody else. You're the only real person in the room!" Huh.
So let me get this straight. Everybody else is acting? I'm the only one capable of or willing to be real, to be present? How sad! All I can think is that there is so much, so much of value, going on in every moment - I feel like I learn something from every single interaction that I have with individuals or the world at large. How can anyone not be interested in that?
I think that it's a gift to be able to live in the moment, to be present. I know that I have a lot more fun at those meetings than anyone else does. Apparently that's because I'm the only one really there!
I spent so much of my childhood, adolescence and early adulthood afraid, just terrified of what horror was lurking around the next corner. I was always planning, and drawing up alternate plans, and making contingency plans. Hypervigilance is a fear based, trauma induced defense mechanism, and that's where I lived for so long, just trying to keep everything under wraps, the hatches battened down, the details routinely organized, everything and everyone under control.
I don't have to do that anymore, and there's such freedom for me in just being able to - forgive the overused phrase - stop and smell the roses. I'm so grateful that I can just be present in my life these days.
So, a Vanci-ku for you, in honor of the joy of living in the moment:
Fears of the future
Rob you of today's moments
Why steal from yourself?
Love,
Vanci
Showing posts with label behavior. Show all posts
Showing posts with label behavior. Show all posts
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Thursday, November 15, 2012
The Purpose of Boundaries
I believe in setting boundaries.
I think that learning how to set boundaries around our homes, hearts, lives,souls, spouses and children and family of choice is a mightily important step for ACoNs to take.
Most of us weren't taught in childhood - when we should have been taught - to establish those crucial lines, buffers, stop-gaps and walls. We weren't taught that we have a right to defend ourselves in body in spirit or mind. We were taught that defending ourselves was tantamount to inviting increased pain, at least I was.
Learning how to defend myself and more importantly how to protect myself, has been a hard fought uphill battle of the last few years. I've had to relearn stores of data in order to correct the system glitches that the Narcs implanted years ago. It's involved serious contemplation of all the relationships around me and often I've been forced to the realization that some of the relationships I had - which I'd once thought were normal and healthy - were seriously messed up.
I've discontinued long term friendships with people whom I truly thought were on my side because as I've learned to control my controllables (read: ME) I've had to face the fact that many of these people were using me for my extraordinary Scapegoat Superpowers. I've discontinued my relationship with sweet alcohol as I've become healthy enough to understand that what release I found in its tickly bubbles was both short-lived and false (plus, you know, it just plain quit working.) I've discontinued doing the dance of the FFA - that's Fake Friends of America, you know what I'm talking about; the people who invite you to purse parties and talk about how fat they are and what diet pills work or brag about how super special their kids are and compliment you on your haircut and sharpen the knives of gossip and fakery incognito so that they can slip the blade in when you turn around to see what was on that plate of crudites. I don't want anything to do with relationships that involve more than, oh, let's say 5% vague falsery, and only as it regards those subjects that fall under the heading of TMI, basically any topic involving the word 'discharge'. I'm okay with friends lying to me about that.
So, essentially, I have learned how to have a small amount of honest, truthful and full-disclosure relationships with other real people. This is a good change in my life.
I have learned how to protect myself from potential relationships with dishonest, untruthful and sneakily fake relationships with fake people and their fake intentions.
Here's the thing, though. Narcissists and those controlled by Narcs aren't either one of these types of people. They're a whole different banana.
Now that I've taken a somewhat circuitous route around the ballpark, here's what I've come here to say tonight...
Locked doors keep out honest people, but thieves know how to pick the locks.
Fences make good neighbors, presupposing that the groups on both sides of said fence are willing to respect it.
A country's border doesn't mean anything once the rockets are launched.
When I began on my journey to learn how to protect myself, I thought that setting and holding boundaries would protect me, sure. But I also thought that I was teaching other people how to treat me, that I was saying, "Hey, this is the line and I will only tolerate behavior that doesn't cross it," so that those others would stop crossing that line. This is a natural thought process, I think, to a normal person. When I drive, I stop at the line before intersections, not in the middle of them. When I fly, I stop at the line on the floor that I'm not supposed to cross until the TSA lady waves me through. That's what lines are for, designation of a change in the plane of existence. Before the line, I do one thing. After it, another. It makes sense.
But Narcs don't respect lines, especially lines drawn by the Scapegoats, the ACoNs, the children, those whom they wish to control - basically everyone that they allow in their lives.
Locked doors, fences, unlisted numbers, space boundaries, borders: all these things are red flags to the bull-Narc's eyes. They must possess, own, control, have it all. I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too, and your children and your money and your spouse and your house and your time and your food and everything else you've ever had or might ever have. That's the only boundary acceptable to a Narc; I get you all, or you get nothing.
So what have I learned? I learned how to draw boundaries because I needed to learn how to do so in order to keep myself safe in the world. I learned how to be clear, so clear, about what I need, what I'll accept, how I will accept it and the circumstances under which I will walk away.
I've learned that the people around me who respect these boundaries are the people in the world that I might potentially have a relationship with. And those who cross these boundaries once are people whom I might still have a relationship with, as long as we can have an honest conversation about the line-crossing and come to an agreement that it won't happen again.
Most importantly, I've learned that the people who choose to trample my boundaries are the people that have no place in my life; they're the Narcs and the users and the abusers. They're the lock-pickers, fence-jumpers, rocket-launchers and it's best to A) Stay the fuck away from them, B) Call the police when these people show up.
I set boundaries for me.
Anyone who chooses to cross them is doing nothing more than giving me absolute proof that they don't deserve to be in my life.
Love,
Vanci
I think that learning how to set boundaries around our homes, hearts, lives,souls, spouses and children and family of choice is a mightily important step for ACoNs to take.
Most of us weren't taught in childhood - when we should have been taught - to establish those crucial lines, buffers, stop-gaps and walls. We weren't taught that we have a right to defend ourselves in body in spirit or mind. We were taught that defending ourselves was tantamount to inviting increased pain, at least I was.
Learning how to defend myself and more importantly how to protect myself, has been a hard fought uphill battle of the last few years. I've had to relearn stores of data in order to correct the system glitches that the Narcs implanted years ago. It's involved serious contemplation of all the relationships around me and often I've been forced to the realization that some of the relationships I had - which I'd once thought were normal and healthy - were seriously messed up.
I've discontinued long term friendships with people whom I truly thought were on my side because as I've learned to control my controllables (read: ME) I've had to face the fact that many of these people were using me for my extraordinary Scapegoat Superpowers. I've discontinued my relationship with sweet alcohol as I've become healthy enough to understand that what release I found in its tickly bubbles was both short-lived and false (plus, you know, it just plain quit working.) I've discontinued doing the dance of the FFA - that's Fake Friends of America, you know what I'm talking about; the people who invite you to purse parties and talk about how fat they are and what diet pills work or brag about how super special their kids are and compliment you on your haircut and sharpen the knives of gossip and fakery incognito so that they can slip the blade in when you turn around to see what was on that plate of crudites. I don't want anything to do with relationships that involve more than, oh, let's say 5% vague falsery, and only as it regards those subjects that fall under the heading of TMI, basically any topic involving the word 'discharge'. I'm okay with friends lying to me about that.
So, essentially, I have learned how to have a small amount of honest, truthful and full-disclosure relationships with other real people. This is a good change in my life.
I have learned how to protect myself from potential relationships with dishonest, untruthful and sneakily fake relationships with fake people and their fake intentions.
Here's the thing, though. Narcissists and those controlled by Narcs aren't either one of these types of people. They're a whole different banana.
Now that I've taken a somewhat circuitous route around the ballpark, here's what I've come here to say tonight...
Locked doors keep out honest people, but thieves know how to pick the locks.
Fences make good neighbors, presupposing that the groups on both sides of said fence are willing to respect it.
A country's border doesn't mean anything once the rockets are launched.
When I began on my journey to learn how to protect myself, I thought that setting and holding boundaries would protect me, sure. But I also thought that I was teaching other people how to treat me, that I was saying, "Hey, this is the line and I will only tolerate behavior that doesn't cross it," so that those others would stop crossing that line. This is a natural thought process, I think, to a normal person. When I drive, I stop at the line before intersections, not in the middle of them. When I fly, I stop at the line on the floor that I'm not supposed to cross until the TSA lady waves me through. That's what lines are for, designation of a change in the plane of existence. Before the line, I do one thing. After it, another. It makes sense.
But Narcs don't respect lines, especially lines drawn by the Scapegoats, the ACoNs, the children, those whom they wish to control - basically everyone that they allow in their lives.
Locked doors, fences, unlisted numbers, space boundaries, borders: all these things are red flags to the bull-Narc's eyes. They must possess, own, control, have it all. I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too, and your children and your money and your spouse and your house and your time and your food and everything else you've ever had or might ever have. That's the only boundary acceptable to a Narc; I get you all, or you get nothing.
So what have I learned? I learned how to draw boundaries because I needed to learn how to do so in order to keep myself safe in the world. I learned how to be clear, so clear, about what I need, what I'll accept, how I will accept it and the circumstances under which I will walk away.
I've learned that the people around me who respect these boundaries are the people in the world that I might potentially have a relationship with. And those who cross these boundaries once are people whom I might still have a relationship with, as long as we can have an honest conversation about the line-crossing and come to an agreement that it won't happen again.
Most importantly, I've learned that the people who choose to trample my boundaries are the people that have no place in my life; they're the Narcs and the users and the abusers. They're the lock-pickers, fence-jumpers, rocket-launchers and it's best to A) Stay the fuck away from them, B) Call the police when these people show up.
I set boundaries for me.
Anyone who chooses to cross them is doing nothing more than giving me absolute proof that they don't deserve to be in my life.
Love,
Vanci
Friday, October 26, 2012
Who You Let Treat You Like That
Today's earlier post and all of the comments and back and forth got me thinking. Uh oh. No, really, it's a good thing. I felt that it was necessary to delete some ill intended comments from an anonymous commenter; particularly I found these comments offensive because she/he was calling other commenters names. I see no reason to call the people who've taken the time to put their precious energy into speaking here in blogland names. It's rude, it's unproductive and I don't like it.
So I deleted and I'd do it again. I've posted a comment policy that summarizes that I will delete commenters who choose to abuse or attack other commenters on this blog. I feel strongly about this. Thanks to Q's Sis, vicariousrising, Jonsi and Upsi for discussing this with me in comments.
Most of the other bloggers that I know moderate their comments and I think that could help to avoid the kind of speed attack that was happening today, but I don't want to moderate. I'm not interested in being tethered to a comment moderation role and it's generally been my experience that those who want to comment do so primarily in helpful, compassionate, empathetic and interesting input. I'd rather not have those comments sitting in an inbox until I finally remember to check it while in the middle of dinner or on the phone or happily driving home from work. Maybe I'm idealistic, too, and really want to give people the benefit of the doubt.
Most of the other bloggers I know wouldn't have deleted some of the comments that I did today, and I think that's just fine for them. I respect that decision to let it ride.
What I thought about today though, was something that DH said to me while I was embroiled in the pre-fight warm up round to my extracting myself from the NFOO. I see a lot of talk about taking the Red Pill, and I think that's an apt metaphor to discovering the truth about our narcissistic families of origin. My experience was a gradual Wake Up, and that's what I've always identified it as.
The beginning of my realizations that something was very, very wrong with my 'family' happened in September 2006. I still played my role and did what was expected, you know just giving up all of my time, money, self, like that. But I was developing this sneaking suspicion that I wasn't quite as invested as I had been. I started to question things, first to myself, then out loud. Just little things, like why everyone in my family assumed that all of my nicer-than-theirs (and harder earned) possessions were always to be available to them. Why it was okay for ENF to borrow my truck and bring it back dirty and with the fuel gauge on E. Why I not only was expected to make the holiday dinner, but to do it outside of my own home AND pay for the entire thing. Why, when I asked for partial reimbursement for the food, I was suddenly the bad guy. Just a few mini rebellions, a few ground tremors... but they were building.
I made my Stand in January 2007, and that's when it all blew the fuck up. I've written reams about that period of time and what came after, the brief incidents that I've had with flirting at contact and the couple of points of actual contact.
But today I am thinking about that period of time between my first realizations of the Crazymaker Clan's true nature and the solidification of their role as such in my mind and heart.
DH was with me through all of my questioning and all of my bumbling through the horror of finally beginning to understand who they really were, what they were really like and how I was really being treated. It was rough. Hot asphalt on bare feet rough. Needles under fingernails rough. They fucking launched an all out full scale war against me. And I didn't know how to react, I wasn't sure what to do with this new attack or with my new feelings. For awhile, I just stood there and took it.
I got help and started picking up tools, but I was outgunned and outnumbered. I started to draw boundaries, super broad and weak ones, but they'd violate them right away, and I'd just stand there too caught up in wondering why they'd do that to be able to defend myself while they violated more and more, hit me harder and harder. I'd draw another one and the cycle would start over.
NSis got into the habit of calling me to berate me and scream at me about what I was doing to her by making myself more unavailable, how I was killing our mother, that I was ruining my daughters' lives, that I was cuckolding my husband (they NEVER would admit that he was anything but controlled by me, that he could possibly have had a say in any of the decisions to limit and eventually end contact, cause, you know, blame is best heaped on the scapegoat and all.) We're talking about me listening to her rant and rave over the phone for such long periods of time that I'd have plug in my cell phone at the wall charger and stand there leashed to the wall while she laid into me for huge chunks of time, hours even.
I look back at that now and I think, what the fuck? Why did I answer the phone? I knew what was coming; the song never changed except that it got longer and meaner.
And DH would get so mad at me for that, he'd be just livid when that phone rang and I answered it. DH is a nice guy. When I say that he was livid, I mean that he would turn red in the face and leave the room. But that's LIVID for DH. And I, so well trained to be the peacekeeper, soul giver, make everything better for everyone girl, I'd find him eventually (once I'd been released from NSis or NM's or ENF's or GCYB's rage, because eventually they took turns making these calls,) I'd go find DH and say, "I'm sorry, I just have to answer or they'll keep calling. What if something was wrong and I didn't answer. Blah, blah, blah..."
And DH finally said to me, "Vanci, you don't let anyone else in the entire world treat you like that. If I treated you like that, we'd be divorced in a minute. If your boss treated you like that, you'd walk out on your job. If a stranger on the street treated you like that, you'd take them OUT. Why do you let those horrible people treat you like this?"
That was a big part of my wake up process, a significant piece of the manner of the dysfunction clicked into place for me. I wish I could say that I immediately took his words to heart and got the hell away, but it took awhile still. Sigh. I did get away, though, and that's what counts, and I have carried DH's wisdom in my pocket ever since.
I won't be berated for being myself, for having an idea, for having an opinion, for telling the truth, for speaking up or speaking out, for liking or disliking something or someone, for wondering about something or questioning something, for having a heart or for being cold, for my eye color or my word choice or my thoughts. I just will not allow it for myself or for the people who are visiting my online 'home' here.
Question me? Yes. Challenge my thoughts or intentions? Yes. Make a suggestion? Yes. Differ in your view? Absofreekinlutely. Argue a point? I'm game.
Berate or shame or call me names? Well, if we were face to face I'd tell you that those are gravel-kickin' words. Or I'd walk away. I will defend myself, one way or another. I'm working on the expression of anger thing, so I'll choose to delete and end it rather than to engage.
And that's what my comment policy's about. Be a human bean and remember that the rest of us are too; act accordingly and appropriately to that fact. Or... buh-bye.
Love,
Vanci
So I deleted and I'd do it again. I've posted a comment policy that summarizes that I will delete commenters who choose to abuse or attack other commenters on this blog. I feel strongly about this. Thanks to Q's Sis, vicariousrising, Jonsi and Upsi for discussing this with me in comments.
Most of the other bloggers that I know moderate their comments and I think that could help to avoid the kind of speed attack that was happening today, but I don't want to moderate. I'm not interested in being tethered to a comment moderation role and it's generally been my experience that those who want to comment do so primarily in helpful, compassionate, empathetic and interesting input. I'd rather not have those comments sitting in an inbox until I finally remember to check it while in the middle of dinner or on the phone or happily driving home from work. Maybe I'm idealistic, too, and really want to give people the benefit of the doubt.
Most of the other bloggers I know wouldn't have deleted some of the comments that I did today, and I think that's just fine for them. I respect that decision to let it ride.
What I thought about today though, was something that DH said to me while I was embroiled in the pre-fight warm up round to my extracting myself from the NFOO. I see a lot of talk about taking the Red Pill, and I think that's an apt metaphor to discovering the truth about our narcissistic families of origin. My experience was a gradual Wake Up, and that's what I've always identified it as.
The beginning of my realizations that something was very, very wrong with my 'family' happened in September 2006. I still played my role and did what was expected, you know just giving up all of my time, money, self, like that. But I was developing this sneaking suspicion that I wasn't quite as invested as I had been. I started to question things, first to myself, then out loud. Just little things, like why everyone in my family assumed that all of my nicer-than-theirs (and harder earned) possessions were always to be available to them. Why it was okay for ENF to borrow my truck and bring it back dirty and with the fuel gauge on E. Why I not only was expected to make the holiday dinner, but to do it outside of my own home AND pay for the entire thing. Why, when I asked for partial reimbursement for the food, I was suddenly the bad guy. Just a few mini rebellions, a few ground tremors... but they were building.
I made my Stand in January 2007, and that's when it all blew the fuck up. I've written reams about that period of time and what came after, the brief incidents that I've had with flirting at contact and the couple of points of actual contact.
But today I am thinking about that period of time between my first realizations of the Crazymaker Clan's true nature and the solidification of their role as such in my mind and heart.
DH was with me through all of my questioning and all of my bumbling through the horror of finally beginning to understand who they really were, what they were really like and how I was really being treated. It was rough. Hot asphalt on bare feet rough. Needles under fingernails rough. They fucking launched an all out full scale war against me. And I didn't know how to react, I wasn't sure what to do with this new attack or with my new feelings. For awhile, I just stood there and took it.
I got help and started picking up tools, but I was outgunned and outnumbered. I started to draw boundaries, super broad and weak ones, but they'd violate them right away, and I'd just stand there too caught up in wondering why they'd do that to be able to defend myself while they violated more and more, hit me harder and harder. I'd draw another one and the cycle would start over.
NSis got into the habit of calling me to berate me and scream at me about what I was doing to her by making myself more unavailable, how I was killing our mother, that I was ruining my daughters' lives, that I was cuckolding my husband (they NEVER would admit that he was anything but controlled by me, that he could possibly have had a say in any of the decisions to limit and eventually end contact, cause, you know, blame is best heaped on the scapegoat and all.) We're talking about me listening to her rant and rave over the phone for such long periods of time that I'd have plug in my cell phone at the wall charger and stand there leashed to the wall while she laid into me for huge chunks of time, hours even.
I look back at that now and I think, what the fuck? Why did I answer the phone? I knew what was coming; the song never changed except that it got longer and meaner.
And DH would get so mad at me for that, he'd be just livid when that phone rang and I answered it. DH is a nice guy. When I say that he was livid, I mean that he would turn red in the face and leave the room. But that's LIVID for DH. And I, so well trained to be the peacekeeper, soul giver, make everything better for everyone girl, I'd find him eventually (once I'd been released from NSis or NM's or ENF's or GCYB's rage, because eventually they took turns making these calls,) I'd go find DH and say, "I'm sorry, I just have to answer or they'll keep calling. What if something was wrong and I didn't answer. Blah, blah, blah..."
And DH finally said to me, "Vanci, you don't let anyone else in the entire world treat you like that. If I treated you like that, we'd be divorced in a minute. If your boss treated you like that, you'd walk out on your job. If a stranger on the street treated you like that, you'd take them OUT. Why do you let those horrible people treat you like this?"
That was a big part of my wake up process, a significant piece of the manner of the dysfunction clicked into place for me. I wish I could say that I immediately took his words to heart and got the hell away, but it took awhile still. Sigh. I did get away, though, and that's what counts, and I have carried DH's wisdom in my pocket ever since.
I won't be berated for being myself, for having an idea, for having an opinion, for telling the truth, for speaking up or speaking out, for liking or disliking something or someone, for wondering about something or questioning something, for having a heart or for being cold, for my eye color or my word choice or my thoughts. I just will not allow it for myself or for the people who are visiting my online 'home' here.
Question me? Yes. Challenge my thoughts or intentions? Yes. Make a suggestion? Yes. Differ in your view? Absofreekinlutely. Argue a point? I'm game.
Berate or shame or call me names? Well, if we were face to face I'd tell you that those are gravel-kickin' words. Or I'd walk away. I will defend myself, one way or another. I'm working on the expression of anger thing, so I'll choose to delete and end it rather than to engage.
And that's what my comment policy's about. Be a human bean and remember that the rest of us are too; act accordingly and appropriately to that fact. Or... buh-bye.
Love,
Vanci
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