“The Burning Carousel Ride of the Bad Boy/Girl” explores our reasons for entering toxic relationships.
“The Bad Boy.” “The Bad Girl.” The alluring, sex-on-a stick person who just captures your attention, your heart, your time, your money, etcetera. How many of us have been caught up in such a relationship? And how many of us have believed, to one degree or another, the equivalent of this meme’s humorous sentiment?
“What’s it like partying with you?
Well, it’s a bit like a merry-go-round…
Oh, that’s sounds fun!
I’m not finished yet.”
(And then there’s the image of a carousel ablaze, with fiery horses. That’s fun).
The burning carousel. Why do we ride the ride, then?
If we know it’s harmful, if we’re only going to get burned by it, what lures us, in the first place?
The First Burn: Option Versus Exclusive:
“The Bad Boy” or “The Bad Girl” can pursue and persuade us by the “lack of desperation/confidence” vibe they throw off. Too cool for school. Someone operating out of abundance. Someone who has it together so much, they have options galore.
They flirt with us. They wink at us. They make us feel chosen, like we’re the “one and only.” Only thing is, we are NOT. The harem, the system, the arrangement is in place to support how while we are led to feel exclusive and special, we are one of many options in his/her stable of interested parties.
They may choose to steal kisses and embraces from us, all while simultaneously being involved with and impregnating someone else. And they have no shame or conscience about that fact. They may feel they’re entitled to it. Perhaps they say things like, “You knew the score,” “We’re all adults here,” and “No one forced you to do this.”
You know, invalidating-to-our-self-esteem kind of statements.
And throughout it all, we can operate from a place of total commitment, devotion, loyalty, and investment. We hang by the phone, waiting for their call or text. We abandon our plans and goals, in favor of theirs, because “it’s just more convenient.” We give our energy, our time, our resources, all for those intermittent scraps of reward. The look they give us. The embrace in a dark corner. The validation. And they have it to give because it requires nothing of them. They, after all, have their first-choice reserve “elsewhere.” They come our way for the ego stroke, the financial perks, the carnal satisfaction, whatever we so willingly offer up.
And sooner or later, the carousel ride isn’t so fun, so thrilling. We get burned. It’s the moment of truth when we realize that they didn’t love us. They used us. We were a fun, convenient, easy, advantageous means to an end. And when they are done with us, they move on, sprinting. And we can be left there, loving them too much, without it being mutual or meaningful to them, the way they were to us.
Salve For the Burns:
It can sound like cold comfort, to say that we fell for them because we have loving hearts and spirits; we’re good people. Often, as we get involved with these individuals, we feel less than. We feel degraded.
Un-chosen.
In the 1990 film, “Dick Tracy,” starring Warren Beatty and Madonna, there’s a great bit of dialogue between the two characters.
Dick Tracy: “What side are you on?”
Breathless Mahoney: “The side I’m always on…mine.”
We need to choose our side.
“I choose me.”
Really? It’s that easy? It sounds too cliché to work.
After getting burned from an experience with Mr. or Ms. Unlimited Options, we can lick our wounds, knowing that we have the life wisdom to now redirect our attention to someone who is truly worth our love, time, and attention: ourselves.
Now, I hear the eyerolls and the sighs. But this fiery carousel ride has done us a favor. It has showed us the power of priority, what it feels like to have top priority, what it feels to have little-to-none. Now, armed with that experience, we possess the opportunity to practice the over-used word, “self-care.”
This goes beyond taking a bubble bath. We have the chance to do a personal emotional autopsy on what had us starving for that situation with the options kind of person. Did we need attention? Communication? Touch? Excitement? Whatever our answer is, now we can give ourselves permission to indulge those hungers through prioritizing our needs. We can pay attention to ourselves now. Soothing, flirty, self-talk, expressing ourselves through journaling, art, music, dance, and therapy can ignite our sense of self all over again… safely.
When we make ourselves the priority, not the convenient option we may or may not choose consistently, we are less likely, as we gradually, and, yes, slowly, heal, we become a smidge more bullet-proof toward the next exploitive individual.
We learn we don’t need to be chosen because we already are. We choose ourselves.
The Second Burn: “The Charming Psyche Destroyer:”
Again, this alluring person can approach us, disarming us with some form of exciting attention, seemingly, lavished upon us in an overwhelming way. We feel good about this, wanted, chosen.
And this often sets the stage for the predator to inflict damage on our psyches. For eventually, that attention becomes filled with a darker edge, or vacillates between two opposing mixed messages of how we are good/no good.
A new acquaintance can initially, for instance, compliment us, flirt with us, fixating their bedroom eyes upon us.
Wow. We feel desired.
We, therefore, may long to “bump into” them at school, work, or in our community. We live for the bits of attention, that build us up. They have a way of making us feel so good. However, after a short period of time, the attention they pay us becomes laced with some backhanded compliments. Maybe, they make a comment about our personality, our appearance, or correct us for making a mistake.
“Are you sure you should wear that?
“When someone asks you, ‘how are you?’ you don’t respond, with ‘Fine.’ You say, ‘I’m well.’ The word, ‘fine’ is used to describe food or hair, not your current state of being.”
Suddenly, now, those remarks undermine us.
But again, these people may be exciting, desirable, popular, and even “experts.” So, we reason, maybe their points are valid. And, after all, they have paid such intense attention to us, validating us in other ways. Surely, it is we who are taking things “too personally.”
Salve For the Burns:
Life is filled with misunderstandings and honest mistakes. But there’s a major difference between those circumstances and instances in which we have felt zapped, gutted, and slimed. When it seems to be indirect, passive-aggressive, and a means to “take us down a peg,” we genuinely feel it. We feel the smirk and the power imbalance.
Therefore, we need to recognize this is real for us. And valid. Perhaps, it may not have been intentional once, but if it keeps happening, that is a pattern, not a mistake.
And, bottom line, we still feel awful about ourselves. Why do we want to keep experiencing that?
We can approach the person, address them about the incident, calmly observing their reaction. Remorse? Defensiveness? Superiority? Or do they even double down, aiming even more severely, for our throats?
Watch. If it’s no big deal, and the person is not a sadist, he/she will apologize, and that behavior won’t happen again.
But if they are a psyche destroyer, they will not take ownership for their actions, and find a way to make us feel wrong, stupid, ashamed, and worthless.
How do we feel when we’re around them? How do we really feel? That reaction is real, informative, and protective. Let it be the bodyguard that can keep us safe.
The Third Burn: The Narcissist in Plain Sight:
This can, perhaps, be the most disturbing person we come across. This person declares, “I’m a Narcissist.” With that unnerving statement, they can come across as brazen, “self-aware,” “self-deprecating,” even refreshingly honest. But are they?
We are drawn to this person, possibly impressed by their self-assessment. We may believe there is honor in them knowing they have these flaws. Hey, at least they’re aware of it and working on it, right? They may spout phrases like, “work in progress,” “nobody’s perfect,” and “I’m focused on becoming a better person.”
These are all lovely sentiments, tickling our ears with hope and the perceived need to extend patience to our fellow human being. Those of us codependent types may even desire to save him/her. We just need to support them until they figure out their issues and transcend their Narcissism.
No problem. Everyone enjoys a project, right?
But we wait and wait and wait and wait. Meanwhile, they keep being the Narcissist. And, if we dare complain, they retort with such arguments as, “You knew, going in, who/what I was,” “I’m trying my best here,” and “You said you’d support me. Why aren’t you doing that?”
We can be made to feel like the unhealthy, maladjusted one. After all, they were upfront and honest. We didn’t need to get involved with them; we chose to do so.
Therefore, this fun, “refreshing honesty” of the Narcissist is now weaponized against us. It is no longer fun.
Salve For the Burns:
It can help to get some perspective on the motives of this supposedly refreshingly honest Narcissist. They declare they are they way they are, not to warn us, not for our best interest, but for theirs. It is in their best interest, using their self-aware declarations, all to manipulate others. It can serve as a “get out of jail free card” to allow them to keep doing what they do, without any pesky accountability or expectation from us to, I don’t know, actually change.
They won’t. They can’t. Our best friend, concerning that disturbing tidbit, can be radical acceptance. The cessation of romanticizing hope, of fashioning them into our fantasy as the cute little fixer upper. They are not that.
They are, instead, “the taker downer.”
Shy of getting out of the relationship, which may not always be possible, it would serve us well to realize their declarations are designed help them, not us. What we do with that stark reality is up to us.
The Common Burning Denominator?
Us.
That’s the jarring, inconvenient answer. We are not the non-participating bystander here. We are engaged.
And we are responsible for seeking our own help, for changing our responses to these tempting, fiery people if we want to get off the ride already. And some of us need to deal with another fun possibility: we may not want to stop the riding the ride.
Whatever the case may be, we do not deserve to be burned by harmful relationships.
We deserve fun that doesn’t damage us.
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
The Burning Carousel Ride of the Bad Boy/Girl | elephant journal
“Check the Check Engine Light” warns against ignoring our intuitive natures.
I recently had some hindsight revelations about ignoring the gut instinct.
First Blinking: Not “Business as Usual” Business:
Years ago, my husband and I were relocating to a new apartment complex.
Right from the jump, it seemed to be an exercise in red flags. We met the apartment manager; let’s call her “Lissy.” When we shook hands with her, it was like grabbing a limp fish. There was a passivity and an apathy to the introduction. It was a signpost of things to come, things we should not have ignored.
But despite Lissy’s fish handshake, we took the apartment. We called the movers, packed our way-too-much- stuff into boxes and believed this move was going to be good for us.
Eh, not so fast.
Let’s see how moving day went, shall we?
Around nine in the morning, as we gathered our stuff, and our spicy calico cats, we got a phone call from Lissy.
It turned out we could not move into the apartment that day… the agreed upon day, listed in our lease…on the first day of the month.
What? Why NOT?
She “explained” that the previous tenant had moved out last minute and left it in dire need of repair.
Oh, and Lissy was “sorry.”
Um, that lip service was pretty, but it didn’t change the fact that we had shelled out massive moolah for the movers that were scheduled to arrive at the new apartment and unload our stuff that day.
The train was leaving the station; it was already in transit.
So, after arriving at the leasing office, we demanded the apartment complex foot the bill for the extra move-in day. Our movers would need to shlep our way-too-much-stuff to a different location, a temporary squatter’s dwelling place, offered to us for the duration of the apartment’s repairs.
As I was on the phone, laying out the situation to the movers, I asked for Lissy’s full name. The movers would be in contact with her for the obvious payment arrangements. In response to my question, she only gave her first name. Like Cher. Like Prince. Like Madonna.
I quickly grabbed a business card I spotted on her desk and read her full name to the movers. My husband and I fought to keep our cool, as we were given the address to our temporary dwelling place.
Oh, and we asked if we could see the “in shambles” apartment for ourselves before we left.
Not surprisingly, Lissy told us “no.”
“Hmmm… Why Not?” (I silently simmered).
But we didn’t challenge things. We were exhausted and it was barely ten in the morning now. We just wanted to be squatters in our temporary home, surrounded by packed boxes, living out of them. We would have three weeks of this fun to look forward to.
Oh, let’s get started now.
“Hmmm… Why Not?”
What we do we do when you and I are stuck in moments of “Hmmm… Why (or Why Not?)”
We all have them.
Where there are question marks, there are usually some exclamation points.
We experience some odd behavior or interaction that JUST doesn’t track well. Our check engine light, known as our intuition, is blinking furiously, alerting us that all is not well, and certainly NOT to be trusted at face value. But we dismiss the question mark, the check engine light, the gut reaction that blares at us.
We often like to, instead, “explain” it away…
“Well, I’m sure it’s a simple mistake…”
“Anyone can have a bad day…”
“I’m sure my boyfriend and this woman are “just friends…”
But the simple mistake and the bad day keep happening over and over.
And we caught that boyfriend having sex with this new girl on our brand-new couch (adding new furniture insult to current relationship injury).
What is getting our check engine light attention?
And what are we refusing to admit or see?
It’s probably worth taking a second look, isn’t it?
More Check Engine Blinking: Outright Lies:
Okay, so back to the apartment saga.
Hubby and I are dwelling amongst our boxes in this temporary abode. Finally, we get word from Lissy that our actual apartment is ready, is fully repaired and is complete with angel choir to serenade our arrival.
Move-in day, take two then.
Our stuff travels from temporary dwelling place to “permanent” apartment home. Second time’s the charm, perhaps?
The day went smoothly, uneventful. No dishes were broken; we got the cable hooked up. Free and clear, hallelujah, right?
(Come on, you know what’s coming).
We moved in on a Friday. There were no leasing office business hours on weekends. I mention this because, first thing, when we woke up on Saturday morning, we encountered multiple cockroaches squirming around our cats’ food and water dishes!
How’s that for a welcome wagon?
After the initial freak out, my husband and I had no choice other than to ride out the weekend with our disgusting nocturnal roomies.
Did I mention how much fun it was to participate in this nocturnal activity?
Our sleep deprived states were further heightened as both of our cats were especially stimulated by these night creatures; they viewed them only viewed as their prey. One of our cats loved grabbing a roach in her mouth and whisking herself into our bedroom to drop her wiggly prey onto the carpet at all hours of the night.
Fun.
First thing, Monday morning, I phoned Lissy, bringing up the roaches.
“Oh, really?’ was her response. She seemed surprised.
I’d soon find out she was lying.
Liar, Liar, What’s on Fire?
We have all be lied to. But, at what point, do we override our instincts to willingly choose to believe the lies?
Primrose path. This explanation connects to that explanation… and so on, and so forth.
Yet, often, when we get to the end of the explanations, all that is left is a lie. What’s yours?
A relationship that’s been on the skids for years, only to have an explosion, confirming a lie?
How about a business deal that seems to be too good to be true, going exactly your way… until it sells you out?
How about that one person in your life you thought would NEVER betray you until one day, Hello, Judas?
Our check engine light detects the presence of lies, even if all we see are happy, uneventful truths and fairytale endings.
Our intuition knows better.
What does your intuition know, right now, that you are clueless about?
More Check Engine Blinking, More Lies:
So, I spoke to Lissy about the roaches first thing on Monday morning. She seemed surprised, but I was already suspicious.
We had not been able to move in on the original lease date because the previous tenant moved out at the last minute and trashed the joint. Uh-huh.
We were denied our request to see the trashed apartment before we spent the next few weeks in a temporary residence. Uh-huh.
And now, her innocent, wide-eyed reaction to the creepy crawlies. Uh-huh.
Nope. Not buying it.
So, I insisted on an action plan to rid the roaches. Not too unreasonable, right?
I was informed that the current exterminator they used would be in touch with me shortly.
Uh-huh.
Upon meeting this guy, I gingerly asked if he had been treating this complex for more than this “isolated” incident. He did not answer, but the pregnant pause and look on his face told me what I needed to know. This place was infested. Plus, when the exterminator arrived at our apartment, fellow neighbor tenants peeked out the doors and knocked on mine, asking when their apartments would be dealt with also.
Uh-huh.
Can you hear my boiling blood? Shall I put on some music to drown out its sound?
What I DID find out from Mr. Exterminator was that he had diligently been on the scene for the past three weeks.
The past three weeks.
Uh-huh.
Unbeknownst to us, the new, trusting tenants.
So, far, the extermination was not that effective, because, well, roaches. Night after night now, they were creeping nocturnally, keeping us up at night all night, forcing me to keep the lights on at night, so that they would be kept somewhat at bay.
Yet, the leasing office and our new BFF, Lissy, kept minimizing and downplaying how bad all of it was.
(Easy for you to say. You’re well-rested in your roach-free home).
Anyway, supposedly, the exterminator stepped things up. But the bug action continued. In fact, it got worse. Now, these night creatures were visible and crawling around during the day.
Especially unnerving was when the roaches were dazed and confused, crawling on the ceilings, right above our heads. By this point, I wanted to live outside, safely under the open sky. No danger of roaches pelting me from above that way!
This was not working. So, I called the city’s health inspector. This WAS a health and safety issue. Roaches can carry disease; they certainly weren’t hygienic. And we couldn’t get a good night’s sleep.
A couple of days later, a health inspection walked throughout our apartment and the ones nearby, including units one floor below us. While we’re all doing this fun walkthrough, I asked Lissy for a copy of the extermination order, set up a few weeks’ earlier. This followed on the heels of the health inspector, busting her on how she should have not withheld this information from us, as the new tenants.
She produced copies of the extermination order, and I discovered something “curious.” At the exact time of nine or ten in the morning, while we were in the leasing office, dealing with one-name Lissy, making new arrangements with the movers and temporarily being relocated, the exterminators were spraying creepy crawlies. That was why we could we not see that apartment. We would see the bug guy… and the corresponding bugs. We would catch Lissy and the entire apartment management company in a big fat lie!
It took us being displaced, being disturbed by our undeniably predatory feline cats, roping in a city health inspector, who subsequently, gave the apartment complex a hefty fine from that city, and employing an entomologist carpet bombing the roaches, all to shine light on this lie and work toward a solution.
If only we had checked all of the check engine lights that were insistently blinking. If only.
How Many Check Engine Lights Does It Take to Screw in a Lightbulb?
It feels like the setup to a bad joke, doesn’t it? We keep getting signs that we somehow, keep ignoring.
The lipstick on the collar…
The hang up phone calls…
The person who never seems to be where they say they will be…
The multiple stone- in- our- stomach feelings as we try to convince ourselves that something is “okay…”
The Check Engine Light Means Business the First Time.
How many times do we need to keep experiencing this wrongness BEFORE we BELIEVE it?
Intuition is there for our safety: physically, spiritually, mentally, and emotionally. The check engine light blinks only to get our attention and bring us to safety.
Something is wrong, dangerous, unhealthy.
Blink, blink! Pay Attention!
Unfortunately, that can be inconvenient. Scary. Messy. Not fun. Not what we want at the time. So, we talk ourselves out of the warning.
It’s nothing…
It’s my imagination…
It’s not that bad…
It’s too good to pass up…
On and on. You get the point. We all get the point. Yet, we all seem to have a habit of ignoring that check engine light.
My personal hindsight: we should have run from Lissy’s fishy handshake. We should have demanded to see the buggy apartment.
Shoulda, coulda, woulda.
We can all visit that land from time to time. I do. My passport is up-to-date.
Still, what happened cannot be changed. Bad vibes, lies, displacement, roaches.
But I learned what happens when you repeatedly hush the intuition that tells you to pay attention to something that is not right.
Therefore, overs the years, I have been learning to heed that check engine light. I pay attention when a person seems a little too hinky or creepy for comfort. I don’t hang around them. If a situation doesn’t feel right, for any reason, I no longer give it the “benefit of the doubt.” Doing so could be harmful to me now. I know that.
Each of us has our own check engine light; it’s not just bestowed on a lucky few. We can tap into what that message system is trying to tell us. It takes time and, yes, practice.
But you and I can learn the life lessons that are there for the taking, should we decide to take them up on their offers to teach us.
And hopefully, we can also avoid cockroaches in our futures.
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
"Check the Check Engine Light" warns against ignoring our intuitive natures. | elephant journal
"One of my biggest mistakes in life…”
"One of my biggest mistakes in life”
"One of my biggest mistakes in life is thinking people will show me the same love that I've shown them " - Heath Ledger
When I was twelve years old, I entered and won a writing contest for the metro area newspaper.
My winning entry was “What is the one thing necessary for contentment?”
I find it quite humorous to get that insight from a twelve- year- old, but, regardless, I spewed forth my wisdom.
“The one thing that is necessary for contentment is being happy with yourself first and then with others.”
Yeah. I know.
I expounded further wisdom, repeating clichés like, turning my frown upside down, ending self- pity and thinking happy. In addition to those concepts, I was also heavily influenced by the “truth” that if you are nice to someone, they will be nice to you in return.
Uh-huh.
But, I guess, the cynic was still in training.
Perhaps, “cynic” is the wrong word to use here. Maybe “realist” is a better choice of words.
Ah, yes, being realistic! How it can burst the fairytale bubbles we blow in our lives.
But burst we must. People pleasers, like yours truly here, do not enjoy hearing and heeding that approach. We want to just keep working on our own personal world domination plans of getting everyone and their pet ferret to like us, to love us, to approve of us, telling us what our value is.
So, what could possibly go wrong there?
Years later, I’d like to think that I have significantly evolved from this childhood essay. I’d like to think I have a handle on the people pleasing, on the seeking and dependency on external validation. I’d like to think I have the rock- solid self-esteem, unshakable and constant.
(I hear you smirking, by the way).
Yeah, I know. It is just not that simple or that easy.
To paraphrase Ledger’s quote, we ask the following question, constantly, of ourselves…
“Why won’t people show me the same love that I've shown them?”
I have been learning, even with my inner twelve-year-old protesting at the education, that the answers go a little more like this instead.
They Don’t Like You.
Oh, man! The people pleasing, codependent individuals that we are REALLY hate that!
Many of us believe and tightly grip the assertion that each person will like us and be as committed to seeking, developing, and maintaining a relationship with us as we work to accomplish those things with them.
And it doesn’t work that way.
No matter how hard we try to make it so, no matter how much we exhaust ourselves by being and doing what another person finds pleasing, it does not work.
Some people just don’t like us. And nothing can change that. Perhaps, it’s like being Lactose intolerant or hating peanut butter. For some people, it is just a gigantic NO in response to us.
And that’s okay.
We, as people pleasers don’t believe that’s acceptable, but acceptance of this reality is critical.
Last year, I came across a beautiful sentiment:
“Make room for the people who want to love you.”
For each person who says “nope” to us, there is a person, several people, in fact, who DO want to like us, love us, accept us, go bowling with us, etcetera. We need to focus on connecting with those people and leave the “nopers” to their decision about us.
Live and let live, like or dislike.
They Don’t Love You.
How’s that for feeling warm and fuzzy?
In “The Prophecy,” a 1995 film, starring Christopher Walken, one of its characters, Satan Himself, uttered to another character, “I don’t love you.” He was trying to show how mercy, understanding, and love were not innate in him for any person.
And sometimes, that is just how it goes with certain individuals relating to us.
Hard and cold. They don’t love us.
That lack of love can display itself in a myriad of ways: hostility, envy, resentment, neglect, screaming, verbal, emotional, physical, sexual, spiritual, and financial abuse. Sometimes, it is an intentional, all-out hit on us. Sometimes, it is thoughtlessness.
Whatever the case may be, a lot of us people pleasers and codependents seem to prioritize, expect, strive for, and believe that love from a person, any person, exists for us, somehow, some way. We just need to do whatever it takes to tap into it. We can assume all the responsibility and burden for being loved, while refusing to accept another person’s free will decision to choose NOT to love us.
Perhaps, because many of us find it inconceivable to be unloving, we project that onto others. And some people are quite hunky- dory about not being loving to us, or to anyone else, for that matter.
I know. We, who are big balls of fuzzy, gooey unicorn love cannot accept or understand that perspective. Why would anyone choose not to love? Why would anyone choose to do that?
Answer: because some people do.
For reasons that are and are not valid.
And, quite frankly, those reasons are none of our business.
Stings, doesn’t it?
And again, while we’re all stung from that reality, let’s examine this next perspective in the love/expectation department.
They Don’t Think About You.
Inconsideration, a lack of loyalty, and carelessness can all run rampant when we encounter other individuals’ reactions to us. Sometimes, we are nowhere to be found in their thoughts.
Years ago, when a family member died, no one contacted me; no one thought to contact me. Why not? I don’t know. But it hurt and angered me.
No common courtesy?
No basic respect?
No love for me, a fellow family member who lost a blood relative?
Nope. At least, there wasn’t strong enough evidence to support those concepts.
And again, I’ll never know the why behind it all. Despite my efforts to communicate, it was not reciprocated.
And sometimes, that is just how it goes.
You and I are just not on their minds. Period.
And it hurts. It’s not fair, It’s not humane, perhaps. It doesn’t feel like the decent thing to do. We wouldn’t do such a thing, we assert.
But different people make different decisions. Sometimes, they are thoughtless. Sometimes, someone else deems us as not worthy of their thought.
Regardless, our inherent value does not change. And yes, we are worthy of good, loving, caring treatment.
That doesn’t mean we will always get it.
It’s Not Personal (But it FEELS Personal).
“It’s Not Personal.” We have all heard that phrase. Sometimes the wound and the slight are unintentional.
Intention may be one thing; impact is quite a different matter though, isn’t it?
There is a theory which states that the opposite of love is not hate; it’s indifference.
And maybe that goes hand in hand with the impersonal.
Let’s face it, fellow codependent, fellow people pleaser, fellow lovey unicorn: things people can often have a much greater, stronger meaning to us than they do concerning us. We can sink a much larger investment into someone when, the entire time, that individual could take or leave us.
They may be under the belief we are just acquaintances. They may choose to not like and respect us even as we have declared our eternal devotion, mowed their lawns, shelled out money, doodled their names with heart symbols in our journals and notepads. We make things personal while the other party doesn’t.
And that other party is perfectly okay with that impersonal touch. They sleep well at night; they don’t include us in their prayers. They don’t have us register as important in our lives.
And that is completely within their free will right to do so. No permission is required. Does that make it feel right? Or fair? Or loving?
No.
But it’s there. An while it is there, WE are still loveable, valuable, wonderful people who deserve good treatment in life.
Nothing can change that. Don’t believe the lie that someone else’s thoughts- or lack thereof- can change our worth.
Reciprocity: Balancing the Scales:
As with most things in life, it comes down to energy. What is invested and spent? On what? On whom?
It’s like continuing with a bad stock that provides diminishing returns. Would you consider that a good investment? Would you keep sinking everything you have in your life, into that stock?
Or would you reconsider and find another stock more suitable to meeting your wants, needs, and expectations?
Reciprocity is a reasonable relationship dynamic. It’s not about keeping score. It is about the evident reality of give and take. Family. Spouses. Life partners. Friends. Co-workers. People that we encounter in this human existence have the ability and the choice to reflect reciprocity. And, if they show themselves to be unable or unwilling to do that for you and me, that informs us with everything we really need to know to lead the life we deserve.
Dare I say it, reciprocity, in my opinion, should be a deal breaker.
We cannot control how others treat us. However, we can control how we treat ourselves.
Let’s stop making the mistake to have that continue to be shabby treatment. We are worth much more than that.
We can generate our own self-respect and self-love. Let’s choose to nurture and feed ourselves, beyond any one person, no matter how important we deem them to be.
We are important enough in our own right!
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
Go Ahead, Wild Thing…
Go Ahead, Wild Thing, Feel Sorry For Yourself!
Self-Pity gets a bad rap, doesn’t it? We are discouraged and shamed for participating in it. We are made to feel guilty, self-indulgent, selfish, and wrong if we feel sorry for ourselves. This culture, in particular, emphasizes independence, grit, and pulling yourself up by your bootstraps. If we don’t…or can’t, we are often viewed as weak and the embodiment of personal failure.
Pretty bleak, huh?
Cue D.H. Lawrence for still further feel-good edification…
"I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself."
Great, now we’re talking about death as the alternative to self-pity. Sounds like a winning approach.
I love D.H. Lawrence’s poem, “Self-Pity.” Like any good Type A, perfectionist people pleaser, I wanted to improve. I wanted to do better in life. And part of that plan involved attempting to adapt this poem to my life. Struggles, and I had a lot of them, could, somehow, be overcome if only I could subdue all expression of self-pity.
Sounds really doable, doesn’t it?
Yeah.
So, I tried to master the poem in this vehicle called my life. I wanted mastery. I wanted to be bulletproof. I wanted to be immune to hurt.
Also doable…and so realistic.
Terminal Uniqueness (I am the Only One Suffering):
"I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself…”
It’s only happening to me. No one else.
I saw that in the abuse I survived. I saw that in my eating disorder behaviors. I saw that as I went through my breast cancer paces. I am alone.
Only, as I silently said those words to myself, I didn’t fully realize, at the time, what I really meant was, “I am ashamed.” The shame of going through whatever I was going though hijacked the “aloneness” of my situation.
Where did the shame come from? Well, childhood conditioning played a significant role. But I became my own jailer from there.
I was ashamed, and perhaps, too myopic in it to see that that there have been countless others, throughout history, who have have similar experiences to mine. I was not the only one. And that triggered a special shame of “how dare I be miserable and feel sorry for myself” with that fact in place? It was kind of the equivalent of “Clear your plate. There are people in Africa starving.”
And the shame equivalent feels like it smacks that of “You should not be okay with yourself unless and until everyone else is okay and has all of their needs met FIRST!”
Big, big sigh exhaled here. Around and around I went.
And I wanted to be the poem’s “wild thing.” I wanted to be the strong creature, valiantly enduring even with a hurricane’s wind whipping in my face.
Doesn’t it sound romantic? Brave? Inspiring?
I could just muster up feeling like it was “windy” instead.
An “And” World:
Terminal uniqueness. Shame. Shame about the shame.
Come on. You’ve been there with that in your life. We are not immune from suffering these slings and arrows. And there’s the key word in that Shakespearean phrase, a little, itty-bitty word, in fact: “and.”
“And” covers any struggle or pain; “and” covers feeling sorry for ourselves.
You and I are unique human beings AND the life experiences we deal with and suffer through are not solely, entirely unique to us. Someone else, right now, is going, or has gone through what we are experiencing.
“I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all.”
Ecclesiastes 9:11
Just because we have shared like human experiences does not disqualify our inherent preciousness and our ability to be strong or courageous. It is not a case of one or the other. It’s both. At the same time.
“And.”
So, go ahead, Wild Thing. Grant yourself permission to feel sorry for yourself in whatever challenging life circumstance you are facing. And, while you’re doing so, please remember you are strong; you are brave. This is tough stuff, whatever it is for you.
You are too valuable of a creature; honor that, even with the painful struggle. You are worth it.
Unhealthy Instead of Pity:
“…A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough…”
Ah, yes. It’s inevitable in this classic poem. We introduce the concept of death. And it only took the second line of the poem to get there. Fun.
Years ago, when I first encountered “Self-Pity” by D. H. Lawrence, I was struck by the stoicism of our little feathered friend. I romanticized it and I idealized it. I was also no stranger to “near death” as well. Everything from almost dying as an infant, to suicidal thoughts, to emaciation from anorexia. And this was WAAAAY before my breast cancer diagnosis.
And I had been repeatedly told- shamed- that what I was going through “wasn’t that bad.” Yeah, sure, I almost lost my life a few times, but, hey, it could have been so much worse. I made a mountain out of my circumstances when I should have taken a cue from “small bird” here to, instead, drop dead, frozen from my bow, and make that sucker a mole hill already!
What WAS my problem, anyway?
I had a severe case of turning to the unhealthy instead of the sorrowful pity of my reality. I chose to berate myself instead of love myself. I made the death of a frozen bird my answer to my pain and my life.
That’s a dangerous thing to do to any of us who are more on the results/achievement-oriented side of things. It’s dangerous because it removes all grace, all humanity, all wiggle room to make mistakes. Hell, in my case, I didn’t even want to be me? I wanted to be a bird, a frozen dead bird?
Something’s screwy with that notion.
Stay Thawed Out:
As much as it pained me to realize, going through all of my “near-death” situations, I was more valuable dead than alive. I give you an excerpt from Neil Gaiman’s “The Graveyard Book:”
“…‘They are for the most part, done with the world. You are not. You are alive… that means you have infinite potential. You can do anything, make anything, dream anything. If you can change the world, the world will change. Potential. Once you’re dead, it’s gone. Over. you’ve made what you’ve made, dreamed what you’ve dreamed, written your name. you may be buried here, you may even walk. But the potential is finished.’”
Go ahead, Wild Thing, keep your blood flowing, your heart beating. It is not time for you to go yet. Even if it feels like it is.
Part of us staying thawed out is being messy, upset, unkempt,but, nonetheless, we are still tweeting on a branch somewhere. Even if it’s a pathetic, near silent tweet, we have a voice and we have a life and, as long as we keep living, we have the opportunity to use it.
Use it, Wild Thing! Don’t die frozen.
Only Perfect is Acceptable:
“…without ever having felt sorry for itself."
Line three: perfectionistic expectation.
You can imagine how little old me ran amuck with this concept.
It’s an impossible standard to set, uphold, and accept.
“Suck it up.”
“No pain, no gain.”
“Pain is temporary. Pride is forever.”
“Go hard or go home.”
Ever encounter these phrases? They can often be found in high school locker rooms. I have seen my fair share of banners made by the Varsity cheerleaders.
Well, of course, I added Lawrence’s poem to that collection. But I did more that that. I convinced myself of the lie that EVERYONE ELSE was completely, thoroughly, and perfectly executing it, while advancing to such extraordinary results in their own lives. Success! EVERYONE ELSE was achieving it, repeatedly, daily, with the best attitude, and a pleasing smile on their faces. I was the only loser who was failing constantly, because I wasn’t tough, strong, cheerful, or disciplined enough to achieve those exact same results.
(Oh, and by the way, “those exact same results” were always an ever-moving target. And here was an extra fun fact: I was the major person doing most of that moving!)
Everyone’s Flailing and NONE of It is Perfect OR Pretty:
So, go ahead, Wild Thing. Flap those wingers and flail spectacularly!
Once again, there seems to be this unrealistic expectation and pressure placed upon us to not only do incredible feats perfectly, but also do them with the most wonderful smiling attititude that ever existed on Planet Earth.
Be that perfect little birdy.
I couldn’t do that. I could do ugly, embarrassing, ridiculous, pathetic, messy, undignified, and sorrowful, but I couldn’t swing perfect little birdy.
Perhaps, a good illustration of that reality was when I was violently bulimic, dumpster diving just outside of my college apartment. I was not stoic as I dumpster dove; I was desperate. I was in despair. I choked back tears as I rummaged for half-eaten pizza crusts.
“…without ever having felt sorry for itself."
Nope. I was despairing the entire time. I felt I was only a weak failure.
Years have gone by since that time. And I now see that I needed to be in that dark place and, yes, feel sorry for myself. It’s probably not a popular thing to say, but, had it not been for that big time “bottom” experience, there would be no book I wrote about it later on. There would be none of the life I experience now. It’s cliché, but life is often that. The lesson comes, many times, after you and I have disgraced ourselves, after we have been disgusting and filthy.
Perhaps there can be no true cleanup if you and I were never dirty in the first place.
We need to remember not to buy the lie that stoicism is constantly, perfectly achieved by the entire humanity, that it is the only way toward success, answers, happiness, love, and life’s meaning. It is not.
Sometimes, we find the answers, the help, the heart’s desires as we are the exact antithesis to “Self-Pity.” Fraility, vulnerability, and humility serve us much more than the hardened stiff upper lip. Don’t equate stoic with strong. Strength shows up looking like its exact opposite, more often than not.
You are already the Wild Thing. You have nothing to prove.
You are strongly weathering your life right now, feelings aside. We need only look to the pandemic to see how we all are enduring some harrowing events and issues. You and I are doing so, right now, while also, yes, often feeling sorry for ourselves. Don’t underestimate its power. We are, via the vehicle of this misery moving closer to who we are meant to be, and to the lives we are meant to live.
Wild Thing, be assured, that is a wild and incredible thing!
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
Go Ahead, Wild Thing, Feel Sorry For Yourself! | elephant journal
