I was a beast of a wife on Friday and ended up hurting Steve’s feelings. After too many sleepless nights, I ended up losing my patience with him and soon found myself in the presence of sad eyes that made me feel horrible. Obviously, I didn’t intend to hurt his feelings and obviously, the guilt set in quickly but, what surprised me most was how long it took for the guilt to subside. Given not only my “baggage”, but also my perfectionist nature, it sometimes takes me a long time to get over having hurt someone. In the past, if the people that I loved were hurting (be it because of me or not), they have always left…left the city, left the house, left the relationship…whatever. So I have become accustomed to relating a state of sadness to me being left behind. It has become a brutal and relentless insecurity of mine that I have yet to shake.
Steve doesn’t often get sad, so this side of me does not come up often in our relationship but, sure enough, there are times when my emotional state at the time overrides my sensitivity to his feelings, and then the flood gates open. He laid on our bed with a crushed look on his face and in an instant, when I should have been trying to make him feel better…I suddenly felt sick to my stomach as a twenty nine year old demon reared its ugly head. It’s never easy to get left behind. Rejection aside, it’s gut wrenching to get through those initial moments of saying what can’t be said and acknowledging that it’s all really happening. The signs are usually the same though…the silence…the knot in your stomach that tells you something horrible is about to happen and then finally…asking the question that you don’t really want the answer to.
Of course, this is not what happened to us. Steve wrapped me in his arms and told me not to be so hard on myself. This is marriage and the incident, albeit unkind of me, was insignificant in the big picture. I was tired, grumpy and I took it out on the man that I loved. It’s not the first time and likely won’t be the last. It’s the nature of imperfection and the reality of life-long relationships. What was frightening though was that, while my intellectual side was consciously aware of all this…my emotional side had turned into a seven year old girl gripped with fear that she was about to be left…orphaned, destined to fend for herself and once again, provided with proof that she is unlovable. I was caught off guard by how quickly this state overwhelmed me and how much I wanted to beg for another chance.
Reactions like this are not for the faint of heart. It takes years of conditioning to develop this in a person and only now, I am starting to realize its existence. It is evidence of some deeply rooted need to be perfect at all times and the moment that my so called perfection slips through the cracks…I am no longer worthy of being loved or happy, nonetheless forgiven.
My beautiful friend Kate said at her wedding that woman often need reminding that they are loved. I’ve seldom heard a statement that is so true and I often wonder if even the most confident of woman among us are spared these moments?? It’s true that I’ve carried far more “baggage” into our relationship than Steve has and in turn, it has required a great deal more work on my part to sort through the dark corners of my mind in order to clear out space for a life beyond my past. It hasn’t always been easy for Steve but, I think that I’ve done well. I think that I’ve bravely looked at the roads ahead and made the courageous choice that my life would be different. I think that I’ve devoted the time, the pain and the effort to seriously reconsider the toxins in my life so that I could forgive others and more importantly, forgive myself.
The challenge of such an endeavour became clear this weekend though when it took hours for the dust that my dagger had stirred up to settle. I had hurt the man that I love and couldn’t forgive myself for having done so. Somewhere, in the recesses of my mind, I believed that while all the work I’ve done has turned my life around, it still doesn’t change the fact that, in comparison to most, I’m still damaged goods and my margin for error then becomes much smaller than those around me. I was suddenly unworthy of being loved anymore and the only way to make things right was to endure the pain of watching him walk away.
How does this happen to a person?? Russ and I have often discussed the differences between how we perceive ourselves and how others perceive us only to realize that our realities are quite different. While some may see a strong, confident woman in me, there are times when I see (and feel) a scared little girl that desperately wants to be loved…and mostly by herself. I think it’s safe to say that we all have our insecurities and that everyone has moments of weakness that hit certain nerves more than others. Clearly, mine is a state of vulnerability in which I need forgiveness for my lack of perfection. I need reminding that even though I simply don’t get it right all the time, it doesn’t mean that I deserve the punishment of being left behind. Clearly, for all the work I’ve done…there are still bruised parts of my soul that have yet to heal from enduring years of brutal beatings. This has to be okay though because, although I refuse to be a prisoner to my past, I am shaped by it and as the saying goes, “our scars remind us that the past was real”.
And so we move ahead…our broken hearts still beating just the same…
Steve doesn’t often get sad, so this side of me does not come up often in our relationship but, sure enough, there are times when my emotional state at the time overrides my sensitivity to his feelings, and then the flood gates open. He laid on our bed with a crushed look on his face and in an instant, when I should have been trying to make him feel better…I suddenly felt sick to my stomach as a twenty nine year old demon reared its ugly head. It’s never easy to get left behind. Rejection aside, it’s gut wrenching to get through those initial moments of saying what can’t be said and acknowledging that it’s all really happening. The signs are usually the same though…the silence…the knot in your stomach that tells you something horrible is about to happen and then finally…asking the question that you don’t really want the answer to.
Of course, this is not what happened to us. Steve wrapped me in his arms and told me not to be so hard on myself. This is marriage and the incident, albeit unkind of me, was insignificant in the big picture. I was tired, grumpy and I took it out on the man that I loved. It’s not the first time and likely won’t be the last. It’s the nature of imperfection and the reality of life-long relationships. What was frightening though was that, while my intellectual side was consciously aware of all this…my emotional side had turned into a seven year old girl gripped with fear that she was about to be left…orphaned, destined to fend for herself and once again, provided with proof that she is unlovable. I was caught off guard by how quickly this state overwhelmed me and how much I wanted to beg for another chance.
Reactions like this are not for the faint of heart. It takes years of conditioning to develop this in a person and only now, I am starting to realize its existence. It is evidence of some deeply rooted need to be perfect at all times and the moment that my so called perfection slips through the cracks…I am no longer worthy of being loved or happy, nonetheless forgiven.
My beautiful friend Kate said at her wedding that woman often need reminding that they are loved. I’ve seldom heard a statement that is so true and I often wonder if even the most confident of woman among us are spared these moments?? It’s true that I’ve carried far more “baggage” into our relationship than Steve has and in turn, it has required a great deal more work on my part to sort through the dark corners of my mind in order to clear out space for a life beyond my past. It hasn’t always been easy for Steve but, I think that I’ve done well. I think that I’ve bravely looked at the roads ahead and made the courageous choice that my life would be different. I think that I’ve devoted the time, the pain and the effort to seriously reconsider the toxins in my life so that I could forgive others and more importantly, forgive myself.
The challenge of such an endeavour became clear this weekend though when it took hours for the dust that my dagger had stirred up to settle. I had hurt the man that I love and couldn’t forgive myself for having done so. Somewhere, in the recesses of my mind, I believed that while all the work I’ve done has turned my life around, it still doesn’t change the fact that, in comparison to most, I’m still damaged goods and my margin for error then becomes much smaller than those around me. I was suddenly unworthy of being loved anymore and the only way to make things right was to endure the pain of watching him walk away.
How does this happen to a person?? Russ and I have often discussed the differences between how we perceive ourselves and how others perceive us only to realize that our realities are quite different. While some may see a strong, confident woman in me, there are times when I see (and feel) a scared little girl that desperately wants to be loved…and mostly by herself. I think it’s safe to say that we all have our insecurities and that everyone has moments of weakness that hit certain nerves more than others. Clearly, mine is a state of vulnerability in which I need forgiveness for my lack of perfection. I need reminding that even though I simply don’t get it right all the time, it doesn’t mean that I deserve the punishment of being left behind. Clearly, for all the work I’ve done…there are still bruised parts of my soul that have yet to heal from enduring years of brutal beatings. This has to be okay though because, although I refuse to be a prisoner to my past, I am shaped by it and as the saying goes, “our scars remind us that the past was real”.
And so we move ahead…our broken hearts still beating just the same…
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