I'm sure you've seen those books for The Complete Idiot's Guide to fill in the blank. I wonder if there is one for how to live an authentic life. I am 48 years old and I have no idea how to properly tell someone how I feel without either spiraling into a fit of anxiety or making the other person feel like crap. I have two modes: either I completely deny I have feelings or I go on and on about all the injustices the person has perpetrated against me; there is no in between. Apparently, there is a way to speak your truth without either scenario. The fact of the matter is that the cornerstone of any relationship is trust and I don't trust myself; but I'm working really hard to learn how. I have lived inauthentically for longer than I can remember; maybe I have always lived inauthentically. I know that I have become very accustomed to lying about how I feel in some twisted effort to spare those around me from feeling bad. The result is that everyone feels bad because I am not being honest. Cat told me that this will only lead to building resentment which feels like the most obvious statement in the world but, I have never realized it on my own. I have written about it before, and I will say it again, I have never felt comfortable in my own skin. I am used to contorting myself into whatever version I think someone wants from me that I don't even know who I am. I do this in all of my relationships: my family relationships, friendships, professional, and romantic relationships. Everyone that knows me gets a version of me that I think they want. It's like a defense mechanism for survival. Following this formula, I have to be a mind reader, and everyone loses; especially me. Besides the exhaustion of being a constant shape shifter, I don't think anyone gets to know the real me. I turn into this sycophant people pleaser so when I do express a dissenting opinion it seems out of the blue. I suck it up and suck it up until I can't take it anymore and I end up reaching my limit and bubbling over in an explosive over reaction to the last proverbial straw that breaks the camel's back.
This has been going on since I was a child. I have always been a people pleaser. My mom has always had anxiety and as a result she had rules that had to be followed. I learned that I had to suppress my needs for the common good. Or, more likely, I felt like that was the lesson because I have always been ruled by OCD. I didn't want my parents to know what I was going through. There were so many times that my fight or flight response was triggered by unsafe situations, over 4 decades later I still remember the feelings of anxiety from those situations. I started making up stories as a child. I remember wanting to wear glasses and popping the lenses out of sunglasses and wearing the frames to school. My mom got a call from school. Then there was the time that I decided that my middle name was something else entirely and started writing that on my assignments. My mom sat me down and asked me why I was writing a false name on my papers and I lied to her and told her that I was just identifying the paper belonged to me because the fictional name began with the letter "S"....so it was Alice's paper. I don't know if she believed me or not, but she let it go. I don't even understand why I was engaging in these attention getting behaviors. It was almost like I was practicing a character other than myself.
OCD started chipping away at my self-esteem early. I always felt that my mother loved my younger brother more than me. I have come up with all these scenarios as to why I felt my mom didn't like me. I felt like a burden and my younger brother received all the positive attention. He was a baby and needed more attention, but that score keeping OCD had me convinced it was because she didn't want me around. This has far more to do with my own issues than my mother. The reality is that my parents had us really young and they were trying to raise a family. They were busy working; they weren't disinterested. There were times my dad was working two jobs and going to night school while my mom worked and did the books for my grandparent's small business. My parents were good parents. They disciplined appropriately, they were kind, we always had food and clothing, and the house was clean. My parents took us to church and they sacrificed to send me to the private church school. I really can't say anything negative about my parent's parenting. Compared to most, my childhood was quite ideal. The reality is that the people I have in my life are trustworthy, even if my OCD tells me they aren't. This is difficult concept to wrap my head around. I simply don't trust myself. I don't trust my reaction or feelings. I have always been sensitive to discipline, correction, and criticism (no matter how constructive). I have a drive to always be impossibly perfect and I naturally always fall short. My compulsion is to hide my imperfection.
I live inauthentically. When faced with the opportunity to calmly say that my feelings are hurt or that I am disappointed, I immediately say "I am ok, everything is fine." I often ignore my feelings. Cat says it's because I don't think I matter or that I am worth it; she's not wrong. It is easier for me to deny how I feel than to simply be honest. I live in fear that if the people in my life see me as vulnerable and that will make them not like me. When I do finally reach my breaking point, all the pent-up feelings bubble over I sound like a lunatic spouting off absolutes of how the person always lets me down when I have never given them the opportunity to meet my needs by simply being honest. I feel dismissed and let down when it's really my own fault for living inauthentically. How can I possibly expect someone to meet my needs when I am dishonest about what I need or how I feel?
I'm still really struggling with the reality of what it means to live with OCD. Cat told me, again, that I need to practice radical acceptance. I have trusted my overactive fight or flight to this point and it has resulted in me threatening to leave and running away more times than I can remember. I am the queen of avoidance and flight. I want to please everyone even if it means that I am disappointed myself. I don't want to fight, even it means not fighting for want I want. I am leaning into my recovery. I am sitting on the hill, but that doesn't mean I need to avoid expressing how I feel. Ever since my breakthrough in therapy a week ago, I am tired. Tired isn't even accurate... I am exhausted. All I want to do is sleep. Blue seems to believe that the exhaustion is part of processing the grief. It feels like my body isn't getting enough oxygen. It is pure fatigue. So, I am going to bed early. I am trying to give myself grace and practice self-compassion. The medication feels like it is starting to work; everything feels less grey.
I was reading an article today about Demi Levato and her fifth stint in mental health inpatient treatment. She said that she only started feeling better when she really started doing the hard work. I am doing the hard work. I am putting myself out there and getting comfortable with being uncomfortable. Now I need to practice living authentically and appropriately sharing the truth of how I feel. Only then can I build and maintain the relationships that are most cherished by me.
-Alice
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