Changing Relationships

I'm not the same person I was ten years ago. My core self is the same, but many of the outward aspects are different such as my likes and dislikes, how I spend my time, what I think about, how I relate to others, how I handle stress, and what I wear. I once read that our bodies are physiologically different due to the death and regeneration of cells. Neuronal pathways change based on changes in behaviors and thought patterns.

Relationships change in much the same way. This didn't dawn on me until about ten years into my relationship with my husband. Not only is he different and I'm different but our relationship is much different than it was when we were 21, 25, or even a few years ago. It's in a constant state of motion, dynamic and changing. Our communication is different. How we spend our time together. The things we talk about. How we argue, how we resolve conflict. The essence of it, which is impossible to describe within the limitations of human language, is different. Which...if he's a different person, and so am I, then it makes sense that our relationship would also be different. It's the most apparent with my significant other since we're a huge part of each other's lives, but you'll see traces of it in other relationships too, with family, friends, and children. Your environment and life stages also affect your relationships. The interplay of those two things are much different now then when I first started dating my husband.

Before I understood this, I worried that something was wrong or it might mean the end of a relationship. Change usually feels icky and uncomfortable, especially if I don't understand it or don't have control over it. But if I can at least acknowledge the change and accept its existence (accept does not mean liking it), it usually helps. If you need to  mourn the parts that are no longer there, then do that. There are some aspects of our 21-year-old relationship that I miss. Even simple things like staying up until 4 am and going to Steak and Shake for an early breakfast was practical when I was in college and had evening classes, but now we work day jobs with a regular routine. I miss that and now my husband and I joke when we're still out (but yawning) at midnight.

"Losing" those things makes room for uncovering the new aspects of your relationship. We developed a new "tradition" of rotating restaurants we go to for brunch on some weekends. The key is adapting and accepting. This applies to deeper seated aspects of the relationship also. Some parts are "lost", but new parts are shiny and ready for you to discover.

How might this topic affect those who are engaged and those considering divorce? Or those going through a rough patch? I'm neither supporting or discouraging marriage or divorce. Would it give relief or might it scare those who are engaged? Would it affirm those in the process of divorce or make them second guess their decision?

Can you think of any relationships that are exactly the same as they were ten years ago? I know I can't.

The Misnomer of "Feminist Movement"

The feminist movement has missed the point, or at least half the point. I had this epiphany the other day when I was reading an article about feminism. I was raised to embrace independence in women. Equality, respect, assertiveness, self esteem, drive, career goals, all of it. I don't recall what exactly I was reading, but it suddenly dawned on me that feminism has often been defined as women acting more like men. I've always known intuitively that this was happening, but to view it within the framework of the feminist movement was appalling.

It's about embracing male characteristics in women. Not a bad thing in itself. I'm all about a culture that accepts a woman who is analytical, strong, and assertive. However, what saddens me is that in order for a woman to become a CEO in this society, the way she gets there is by only showing her masculine characteristics.

Male=strong=powerful=CEO. Female=nurturing=(perceived) weak=not a CEO. Remember when Hilary Clinton cried? I don't recall her being applauded for that.

We may think we've made great progress, but America is still steroids-heavy on male traits. Male characteristics are the ideal. They equal power, America's crack. And we've never seen it go through power withdrawals. I wonder what that would look like.

When I think about all the instances that led to where I'm at in my career, it was because I polished up my male characteristics. I had to show assertion and self confidence at job interviews. I had to speak with authority and conviction during class presentations. I had to show these traits during my internship and first post graduate job. When I feel emotional about a client's story, I hide my emotions and tears from them for fear of not looking professional or capable.

Carl Jung is a psychologist who explored unconscious universal archetypes. These are aspects of personality that are present in all humans. They take shape as thoughts and images. All humans have a masculine and feminine side to them. Yin and Yang. Action and reflection. Dominance and passivity. This is separate from biological sex and even gender. It might be thought of as how the spirit is androgynous.

Carl Jung used the terms anima and animus. The anima is the feminine side of a man and animus is the masculine side of a woman.  As a culture we don't accept feminine traits in females, and especially not in males. This isn't a reference to homosexuality or transgender individuals. I'm referring to feminine tendencies (anima) such as sensitivity, receptivity, reflection, nurturing, gentleness, and intuition that are often repressed in men. And male tendencies (animus) of courage, assertiveness, analytical thought, decisiveness, and drive that women are beginning to access through the "feminist" movement.

For example, some of my male traits are drive, perfectionism,and criticism (of myself), which tends to attack my female side. This might be effective in the American workforce and job interview, but it stifles my creativity. Perfectionism and self criticism slaughter most of my creative ideas before they have a chance to bud. It's like I'm going through life with only the right side of my body. The right limbs break the left and I'm only accessing half of my Self. No wonder I'm limping, stumbling along in some areas of life.

I discovered this when I went on a retreat in a community that embraces Jung and his follower's ideas. I was sharing my writer's block despair with someone, and they suggested my male side (traits) might be dominating and attacking my female side (traits). I'd never thought of it that way before. Read more about my retreat experience.

I can't do Jung's work any justice in a single blog post, but here's something from Wikipedia (under anima/animus) that goes a little deeper: "Because a man's sensitivity must often be repressed, the anima is one of the most significant autonomous complexes of all. It is said to manifest itself by appearing in dreams. It also influences a man's interactions with women and his attitudes toward them and vice versa for females and the animus."  We project our anima/animus on people we're in relationships with (of the opposite sex). This is fascinating!

Feminism is a misnomer because we're not about embracing feminine characteristics. It should be called the "masculinist movement." Please just call it for what it is: In order to be treated as equals women have had to act more like men.

I'm sure you noticed that "masculinist" is not actually a word. There is no equivalent to "feminist". That alone should clue us in.

It might be better suited to have a "masculinist movement" that encourages men to acknowledge their intuition, sensitivity, and tenderness.

Autumn

This moment. Fleeting, but I grasped it for a few seconds this morning. Too many times, I get caught up in my life and I miss the fall season. Suddenly it's November and very brown. I don't know how this happens. But this morning while driving through rolling green hills peppered with cows, I was awed by the splash of colors. The sun was brilliant, which is best for showing off the leaves. I noticed that this moment is part of the autumn peak. The glorious reds, oranges, yellows, greens, and deep purples. Vibrant and healthy. The leaves aren't dead yet. A mix of green and autumn confetti. They're making their loud finale, grand performance. Soon it will transition to browns and burnt colors. As I grasped this, I noticed how many of the trees look like they've been touched by an artist's paint brush. Just the tips on this one, a corner on another, broad strokes for another. The perfect array of a 1000 shades of orange. As if an artist had diligently worked last night to blend the colors, insert the intricate details of brown bark and green stems, and shivered in anticipation that I would awaken to this surprise. The peak of autumn is short, a couple of weeks. I didn't miss it this year.

P.S. On a sunny day, notice the difference in the leaves in mid morning light compared to dusk kissed light, and all the variations in between. My favorite is mid morning.

Facebook Sobriety

So I'm in the midst of trying what I'm call an "experiment." It's less anxiety provoking than saying I'm going cold turkey and never going back to it. I'm on day 13 of my Facebook sobriety. I even have an accountability person for when I'm feeling weak. Actually, two. Yeah, it's that bad.

There were many factors that went into the decision, but one was time. Some things such as my day job aren't negotiable and it takes 45+ hours out of my week. Sleep is not negotiable. Showering is not negotiable.  I realized that despite the advantages Facebook gives to writers to get in touch with their readers or provide a link to their newest blog post, if it's taking time away from when I could be writing, then there will be no audience. Nothing to share with readers.

In case you're considering it, a hint that's helped is that I temporarily deactivated my account so no one can comment or message me and therefore, I'm not as tempted to check it. It's also a relief though that not everything is lost (it's the closest I ever came to compiling a "wedding album" of pictures) so I can go back to it at anytime and everything will be there. I also removed it from my "bookmarks" on the computer. My "experiment" is to take it one day at a time and see how long I can go.

I was aiming for more time, but I've been surprised at how much it's decluttered my mind. I don't need to know all those details about everyone else's lives. I don't need to witness the drama that sometimes unfolds from a simple post or picture. Why fill my mind with unnecessary information about everyone I know? I'm learning to be more thoughtful about what occupies space in my mind. The same applies to commercial ads, TV, the Internet etc. If I'm going to have more room in my mind for creative ideas and story tidbits, decluttering your mind is just as important as providing yourself with more time in a day.

Maybe it's something about fall and hibernation, but I've also felt a need to close some of the shades in my life. I'm naturally a fairly private person, but removing myself from Facebook is also my way of focusing inward, and regaining more privacy so I can be more aware of the creative thoughts that bubble to the surface.

The first week wasn't as bad as I'd feared. I worked through my withdrawals, the urges to check, the jittery feelings. After a few days I stopped thinking of status updates I could post.

So far I've fallen off the wagon twice. The first time wasn't so much about feeling compulsed to check but  about a  Facebook event I'd created that had disappeared from everyone's view and was causing some confusion. The other time was a weak moment. I've noticed that when I'm feeling down or a need to numb myself from whatever is going on, I have the urge to check it. It's an easy way to zone out. A favorite blogger of mine wrote about her experience of unplugging from social media and I agree with a lot of her points: Momastery.

If you're one of those disciplined individuals that checks Facebook once a week or once every few days, this may not apply to you; maybe there's something else that's a time suck or that clutters your mind. For me it was Facebook. I might go back when I can be more balanced, but then again I might not.

It's a relief that you can't "like" this. That's awesome if you do, but it's not essential for me to know either.

my depression

Day One
My depression is much like when you're at the beach, kids are playing in the sunshine and water, and you see distant dark clouds gathering. There's not much you can do about it. It's most likely going to storm. You get a a little anxious seeing them roll in and decide you better pack up your gear so you can make it back to the car before it rains. It's disappointing. There's not much you can do. It's coming. I never know how violent it will be, or if it might pass overhead with a few sprinkles. Either way, the gray clouds are gathering around my head.

I've never experienced a severe depression and it usually doesn't last more than a few days when it comes, but once it "hits shore", it's like going into a dark room when your eyes haven't yet adjusted from the bright light outdoors. You can't see clearly and you know you just have to wait it out a bit. It's familiar, you've had this before so you don't exactly panic, but it's also irritating.

When I get like this, the best way to ride it out is to watch TV. Mind numbing TV where I can be passive. Where my brain doesn't have to work too hard. I might try other things like writing, reading, or something active like riding a bike, but my motivation is so low that I'm lucky if I can get off the couch. Reading is almost impossible. I have to reread a paragraph and I still don't know what I just read, mostly because I don't care about it. It feels like so much work. And that says a lot because I love reading.

Sometimes I don't notice the depression until I catch myself being bored by everything I try  to do. I've finally realized that if I'm bored of reading, it's a sign I'm depressed.

Day Two
I don't always know the why. I'm an analyzer. My own therapist once hinted that I tend to intellectualize rather than feel things. That surprised me because sometimes I feel like I feel too strongly, and that I'm too sensitive. I don't know.

Sometimes the depression is about something bothering me, or it's a sign that I've been too busy.  Sometimes I've been too hard on myself. My inner critic has gained the reins of my thoughts.

There's a little chipmunk that frequents the shrubs and garden in my backyard. He scurries from bush the bush, jittery, and skittish, eventually scurrying back down the drainage hole from where he came. I feel like him when I leave home during a depression. I'm hesitant and dart quickly in and out of the library. I pray that I don't run into someone I know. I barely brushed my hair and teeth. My glasses and hole-y sweats look like I'm ready for bed. I'm the classic depressed person from a Cymbalta commercial.

I test myself to see how quickly I can dart in and out of the library. I have a book on hold and it expires after today. That's the only reason I'm going. It's also another valiant effort to see if a new book might spike my attention, pull me out of the engulfing sadness.  Typically I take my time, people watching, noticing the park across the street, moseying between library shelves, purposely getting distracted by shiny new books, breathing it all in. But no, I'm on a chipmunk mission. In and out so I can go back to my hole below the ground. I'm skittish, certain that everyone suspects I did a half ass job of brushing my teeth today. That my clothes are dull much like my skin that day. That everyone is looking at me, judging me.Thank God for self check-out.

 I consider stopping at the store for junk food- maybe Doritoes. Normally I eat healthy, but when I get like this, I don't care.

I consider whether it's the risk of darting in and out of the store, only because we are low on junk food at home. I decide it's too much effort, and all I want is to crawl back into my hole. It's enough energy focusing on the traffic so I don't get into an accident.

Despite my tendency to isolate at those times, I still check social media, email, and text messages. When I'm in the fog, when everything looks like a bleak and blustery November day, I still have a crevice of receptivity. By chance, someone will do or say something that gives me a droplet of happiness. I hold my empty cup out and I take that drop. I don't think the person has a clue. I grasp at it, clinging- on a day like this.

The big question is how does one get through a work day like this? Do you take a sick day? Because we can all admit there's still a stigma about mental health problems. You just don't call in to work and tell them you're too anxious, depressed, or angry. Do you go to work but do it half-heartedly? Do you go and avoid everyone you possibly can? Or do you put on a completely fake facade? I haven't found an answer. You muddle one way or another.

Sometimes I give myself short pep talks that the only thing I expect of myself is to show up and do the minimum. That I'm allowed to leave Miss. Perfection and Ms. People Pleaser at home. I even give myself a time frame. This week you get to leave parts of yourself at home, but your physical body is going. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. I've learned the most important thing is to be gentle with myself. Much like you would treat a five year old who's walked two miles and legs are hurting her. Two more baby steps? Need to rest awhile on the bench? You need to be carried? Whatever you need.

Day 3
I felt normal-ish for part of the day. I survived a difficult day at work and can't help but feel a little like super woman for accomplishing that.