When I Dig at Them, All the Weeds in My Garden Seem to Have the Same Root
I've recently noticed something new (to me) about myself and my past relationship history.
It seems I have often chosen to be with women who in one way or another are unavailable to me, and often with women who were daughters and sisters before they were partners (that is to say, they were more involved with their families of origin than they were with their non-familial relationships--meaning with me).
I think I even know why I've done this.
I put myself with women who are unavailable to me as a defense mechanism. It's what Gay and Kathlyn Hendricks, in their book Conscious Loving, call an "unconscious contract:" You don't have to open yourself to me fully as long as you don't ask me to open myself up to you fully. In other words, being with women who were unavailable to me kept me from being challenged to make myself available to them.
I put myself with women who are daughters and sisters before they're partners for two reasons. 1) Their involvement with their families of origin is one way that their unavailability to me can manifest, and 2) I was unconsciously seeking to become part of their families, since I'd never been enormously close with my own. This second strategy in particular has usually resulted in spectacular failure--such insular families are usually quite good at protecting the border between the insiders and the outsiders. Plus, my own projections of the "outsider" judgment I put on myself only added to the spectacularness of the failure of the strategy.
This is a really old pattern, it seems. All the way back to my first crushes on girls, I had crushes on the ones I decided I could never be with--and so of course I never told them. I carried the same unspoken, unrequited torch from third grade through sixth grade, and two more before that, and two more after that. Even if I start with my relationships after I went off to college (enmeshment with her family of origin is tough to measure for a high school girl who still lives at home), the pattern continued--presented here in deliberately non-chronological order and with deliberately vague verb tense:
- There was one who might be an exception to this rule, though I very quickly unconsciously put her into a role as emotional teacher--which didn't lend itself well to also being an emotionally available partner.
- One was VERY much a daughter first.
- Another was way too wrapped up in her own depression and neediness to be concerned with me.
- Another had a thing for control that kept her from being emotionally available to me.
- One, in addition to other considerations that made her unavailable to me, also lived in another state.
- Yet another was highly enmeshed with her family.
- There was one who embodied both sides,or so it seemed to me--emotionally unavailable AND a daughter before a partner.
So I WANT to be with women who are emotionally available to me, and I WANT to be with women who are close to their families without being enmeshed with them. I WANT to be with women who will consider me family of choice so that I can have a sense of easy belonging with their families of origin (yes, I know that part is about me more than it's about them). And yet, I also DON'T want these things. Or part of me must also not want these things, based on results (as the Beyond Your Best people would say). Because I have deliberately sought--the seeking is no less deliberate for its being unconscious--to make sure that I haven't gotten these things.
Therefore, for all my conscious yearning for these things, I have an unconscious yearning to make damn sure I don't get them.
Q: Why not? Why keep these things from myself?
A: Well, if I am with an emotionally available person, she'll likely expect me to be emotionally available with her.
Q: What would happen if I were emotionally available?
A: She'd see me.
Q: And what would happen if she saw me?
A: She'd see the parts of me I don't like.
Q: And what would happen if she saw the parts of me I don't like?
A: She wouldn't like them either.
Q: And what would happen if she didn't like them either?
A: She wouldn't love me.
Q: And what would happen if she didn't love me?
A: It would provide further evidence that I'm unlovable.
Q: And what would it mean if I had further evidence that I'm unlovable?
A: It would prove that I should believe that I am unlovable.
Q: And that would mean?
A: That I'm worthless. I'm NOT GOOD ENOUGH.
Q: Okay, what about the other side? What does it mean when a woman doesn't consider me part of her family?
A: Yeah, same thing. She doesn't love me and I don't belong, so therefore I am unlovable, and therefore I'm worthless and NOT GOOD ENOUGH.
Q: So, if I don't get what I want from a relationship then I am unloved and unlovable and unworthy and even worthless and not good enough?
A: Yeah, that's what some deep-down part of me believes. Even if it doesn't make logical sense. It's true to that deep, non-rational part of me.
Q: How does that feel?
A: Sad. Really sad. And angry. Scared, too.
Q: So, if I don't make myself available, what happens then?
A: Well, then the people I'm with don't have to be available to me either.
Q: And what happens then?
A: Then we're not fully connected.
Q: And if we're not fully connected?
A: Then we don't truly, fully love.
Q: And if we don't truly, fully love?
A: Then I don't love them and they don't love me.
Q: And if I don't love them and they don't love me, what does that mean?
A: That I'm unloved.
Q: Which means?
A: Same thing. I'm unlovable and worthless. The same old NOT GOOD ENOUGH. Here it is on this side too.
Q: And that feels?
A: Sad and afraid and angry.
Q: Wow. So I've unconsciously set up a situation in which I'm screwed either way. Is that a fair assessment?
A: Yeah, looks that way.
Q: So what now?
A: I want to break the pattern. To shatter the screwed-either-way paradigm and get what I consciously want.
Q: So how am I going to do that?
A: By being to others the emotional availability and the sense of belonging that I want to get for myself.
Q: What will that look like, and how will I do that while still protecting my own boundaries so I don't become a doormat?
A: Ah, yes. To doubly quote Will from the same Hamlet soliloquy: "That is the question," and "There's the rub." I'll figure it out. I trust me to do that.
So once again, I've let my fear dictate my strategy. I should know by now that fear is a lousy strategist. Fear is only a tactician, and even at that it has limited capacity. As soon as I start to trust fear with decisions beyond "Run!" or "Fight!" or "Block that incoming hit!" my decisions start to become very bad ones.
And once again, the same old "I'm not good enough" belief turns out to be at the root of some way in which I've been keeping myself from what I want because that belief doesn't think I deserve to have what I want. That one belief, formed long ago and reinforced time and again over the years (more often than not, with evidence it invents or twists to suit its purposes) seems to be lurking behind all the things I do to get in my own way.
Ah, Mr. Not-Good-Enough-Judgment, my old nemesis. We meet again.
Actually I'm sick and tired of fighting that same battle with Mr. Not-Good-Enough-Judgment over and over in myriad forms. I think it's time I seek a different approach. It'll be interesting to see what that will look like. I will let you know.
It seems I have often chosen to be with women who in one way or another are unavailable to me, and often with women who were daughters and sisters before they were partners (that is to say, they were more involved with their families of origin than they were with their non-familial relationships--meaning with me).
I think I even know why I've done this.
I put myself with women who are unavailable to me as a defense mechanism. It's what Gay and Kathlyn Hendricks, in their book Conscious Loving, call an "unconscious contract:" You don't have to open yourself to me fully as long as you don't ask me to open myself up to you fully. In other words, being with women who were unavailable to me kept me from being challenged to make myself available to them.
I put myself with women who are daughters and sisters before they're partners for two reasons. 1) Their involvement with their families of origin is one way that their unavailability to me can manifest, and 2) I was unconsciously seeking to become part of their families, since I'd never been enormously close with my own. This second strategy in particular has usually resulted in spectacular failure--such insular families are usually quite good at protecting the border between the insiders and the outsiders. Plus, my own projections of the "outsider" judgment I put on myself only added to the spectacularness of the failure of the strategy.
This is a really old pattern, it seems. All the way back to my first crushes on girls, I had crushes on the ones I decided I could never be with--and so of course I never told them. I carried the same unspoken, unrequited torch from third grade through sixth grade, and two more before that, and two more after that. Even if I start with my relationships after I went off to college (enmeshment with her family of origin is tough to measure for a high school girl who still lives at home), the pattern continued--presented here in deliberately non-chronological order and with deliberately vague verb tense:
- There was one who might be an exception to this rule, though I very quickly unconsciously put her into a role as emotional teacher--which didn't lend itself well to also being an emotionally available partner.
- One was VERY much a daughter first.
- Another was way too wrapped up in her own depression and neediness to be concerned with me.
- Another had a thing for control that kept her from being emotionally available to me.
- One, in addition to other considerations that made her unavailable to me, also lived in another state.
- Yet another was highly enmeshed with her family.
- There was one who embodied both sides,or so it seemed to me--emotionally unavailable AND a daughter before a partner.
So I WANT to be with women who are emotionally available to me, and I WANT to be with women who are close to their families without being enmeshed with them. I WANT to be with women who will consider me family of choice so that I can have a sense of easy belonging with their families of origin (yes, I know that part is about me more than it's about them). And yet, I also DON'T want these things. Or part of me must also not want these things, based on results (as the Beyond Your Best people would say). Because I have deliberately sought--the seeking is no less deliberate for its being unconscious--to make sure that I haven't gotten these things.
Therefore, for all my conscious yearning for these things, I have an unconscious yearning to make damn sure I don't get them.
Q: Why not? Why keep these things from myself?
A: Well, if I am with an emotionally available person, she'll likely expect me to be emotionally available with her.
Q: What would happen if I were emotionally available?
A: She'd see me.
Q: And what would happen if she saw me?
A: She'd see the parts of me I don't like.
Q: And what would happen if she saw the parts of me I don't like?
A: She wouldn't like them either.
Q: And what would happen if she didn't like them either?
A: She wouldn't love me.
Q: And what would happen if she didn't love me?
A: It would provide further evidence that I'm unlovable.
Q: And what would it mean if I had further evidence that I'm unlovable?
A: It would prove that I should believe that I am unlovable.
Q: And that would mean?
A: That I'm worthless. I'm NOT GOOD ENOUGH.
Q: Okay, what about the other side? What does it mean when a woman doesn't consider me part of her family?
A: Yeah, same thing. She doesn't love me and I don't belong, so therefore I am unlovable, and therefore I'm worthless and NOT GOOD ENOUGH.
Q: So, if I don't get what I want from a relationship then I am unloved and unlovable and unworthy and even worthless and not good enough?
A: Yeah, that's what some deep-down part of me believes. Even if it doesn't make logical sense. It's true to that deep, non-rational part of me.
Q: How does that feel?
A: Sad. Really sad. And angry. Scared, too.
Q: So, if I don't make myself available, what happens then?
A: Well, then the people I'm with don't have to be available to me either.
Q: And what happens then?
A: Then we're not fully connected.
Q: And if we're not fully connected?
A: Then we don't truly, fully love.
Q: And if we don't truly, fully love?
A: Then I don't love them and they don't love me.
Q: And if I don't love them and they don't love me, what does that mean?
A: That I'm unloved.
Q: Which means?
A: Same thing. I'm unlovable and worthless. The same old NOT GOOD ENOUGH. Here it is on this side too.
Q: And that feels?
A: Sad and afraid and angry.
Q: Wow. So I've unconsciously set up a situation in which I'm screwed either way. Is that a fair assessment?
A: Yeah, looks that way.
Q: So what now?
A: I want to break the pattern. To shatter the screwed-either-way paradigm and get what I consciously want.
Q: So how am I going to do that?
A: By being to others the emotional availability and the sense of belonging that I want to get for myself.
Q: What will that look like, and how will I do that while still protecting my own boundaries so I don't become a doormat?
A: Ah, yes. To doubly quote Will from the same Hamlet soliloquy: "That is the question," and "There's the rub." I'll figure it out. I trust me to do that.
So once again, I've let my fear dictate my strategy. I should know by now that fear is a lousy strategist. Fear is only a tactician, and even at that it has limited capacity. As soon as I start to trust fear with decisions beyond "Run!" or "Fight!" or "Block that incoming hit!" my decisions start to become very bad ones.
And once again, the same old "I'm not good enough" belief turns out to be at the root of some way in which I've been keeping myself from what I want because that belief doesn't think I deserve to have what I want. That one belief, formed long ago and reinforced time and again over the years (more often than not, with evidence it invents or twists to suit its purposes) seems to be lurking behind all the things I do to get in my own way.
Ah, Mr. Not-Good-Enough-Judgment, my old nemesis. We meet again.
Actually I'm sick and tired of fighting that same battle with Mr. Not-Good-Enough-Judgment over and over in myriad forms. I think it's time I seek a different approach. It'll be interesting to see what that will look like. I will let you know.