I make my husband crazy with this stuff I can see it in his eyes. When the insecurities dig in I have never been able to make them shut up. I don’t know why they’re so strong, and rationally I do know they shouldn’t be. Rationally, I see all the things I should be thankful for in my life and understand that I’ve helped to make them and maybe even earned them… But sometimes I get so afraid all the good is going to be gone, or that some cosmic balancer will show up and get in my face and say, “This was all for someone else, it’s NOT YOURS!” He’s been around lately, that balancer. Paddling me with reminders that nothing is forever and I really can loose the things that are most important.
I’ve had these moments from the time I was little. Moments of deeply felt gratitude, fear of loss and anger with the seesaw.
I remember waking up … actually no … I remember laying awake unable to get to sleep, feeling a terrible ache in my head, throat and chest. I would worry that if I went to sleep I might wake up and find myself in another family. A mean family, the one I really belonged to. One without me Da, Mummy or my brothers…. I would lay there afraid that somehow everything I loved wasn’t really mine. I would fall asleep eventually in spite of my fear, and then wake up the next day cranky and mad at the world. Then I would direct that mad at the family I was so afraid of loosing that I ached inside. It was their fault I hurt like that.
I’d react to the awful pain the fear of loosing them created, by trying to make them hate me. If they hated me, and I lost them then it wouldn’t hurt so much. It never worked. I made them angry with me, I disappointed them, I hurt their feelings, but I could never make them hate me. I only made myself feel more unworthy. Eventually they would convince me I belonged, that I was theirs and deserving. I’d let them love me in peace again. I’d even let myself get cozy and comfy in the best of my life again … until something made me see how luck I was, and then the fear of loosing it all would creep in again.
It has been a predictable and intractable cycle for as long as I can remember. The dramas and upheavals have been spectacular sometimes….
Sometimes the same awareness of what matters and what is good in my life, those things that fuel the fear of loss, the fear that I don’t deserve them, surfaces comfortably too. Sometimes I’ll be struck, almost out of the blue by how lucky I am… how wonderful my husband is, and my son. How amazing my friends are and how loyal they remain no matter how strange and erratic I become. I’ll be somewhere doing something simple and it will wash over me. “This is so good!”
It happened at my wedding, and for weeks after it. I would keep touching Mark to make sure he was real. It happened when I became pregnant with my first child. I would disappear into every sense of him growing inside me, talk to him and feel him and marvel at how good everything was. Even when my second child was colicky and screaming for hours on end, I remember rocking him feeling so lucky with my life.
Countless times I’ve reveled and marveled in how good it feels to live my life … so then why does this exact same thing fill me with so much fear that it hurts? Why does it become the fuel for feelings and actions that create so much confusion in my mind I loose myself and need to alienate the people who care the most about me?
Mark says it’s just the fallout and relief of having him home again. According to him it’s just me needing to be reassured that he’s back to stay. His answer is to show me he’s not going anywhere by taking my pants down and giving me a reminder I won’t forget for a while.
I’m amazed and grateful that he puts up with me… (and yes, in a while, that too will be the fuel for another round.) I’m terrified that someday, he’ll find it all too hard… I’m amazed that he’s mine, and terrified that he’s too good for me… I’m sure I’m not good enough for him, and determined that if he ever admits it that he’s going to know I knew it all along.
It makes him angry and defensive when I get like this. He says it’s one of the worst kinds of arrogance that I would dare hurt myself using a straw dog made out of fears he’s never done anything to create in me.
There’s something funny about having a man who loves me try to whack the devil out of my bare backside while lecturing me saying stuff like … “You have no right to put yourself down. You insult me when you do. You hurt me as much as you hurt yourself. You disrespect how much I love you when you. You’re going to submit to the fact that I love you no matter what, if I have to paddle your butt into hamburger.” It’s even funnier in a wry, kind of hysterical way to hear myself agree with him knowing full well that he’s right, and still deep down knowing that no matter what, I’ll still fall back into the pit of doubts somewhere down the line again.
I’m very lucky, and very grateful. Not just for my life, but for the fact that even though I can’t stop this crap from happening, that it only comes up once in a while, and that there is another side of it. Thanks to Mark, and DD it’s a safe place that is sweet and mostly feels safe.
There it is…
Also, since you already are here 🙂 I put a very comprehensive How-To together, for all the people out there who want to get in domestic discipline…
There are chapters on the lifestyle and introducing it, living life in the lifestyle, a detailed description of tools, and much more… Each chapter contains valuable tips and habits that you can apply to your life. I wrote this book because there are no such books out there (!), and … we have developed our relationship with Domestic Discipline so far, that I now consider myself as an expert 🙂
… write me you like it !