Layers of Hoarding
Hoarding can kill. A family member of mine created once life-threatening circumstances for herself. We conducted a welfare check of her home and encountered disturbing evidence. Yes, there were boxes and bags piled from floor to ceiling. There was disarray of newspapers and magazines, littering each room. There were narrow pathways to walk in, room by room.
But I was not prepared for the actual layers of hoarding. I was first hit with it as I encountered her small kitchen table. It was crowded with stale cookies, coffee cups and silk flowers in a vase. Nothing glaringly screamed “dangerous hoarding conditions.”
At least, not at first glance.
Let’s call my family member, “Hannah,” for privacy’s sake. Hannah withdrew from human contact after her husband’s death. Hence, the welfare check. She neglected her health and personal care needs. In fact, she stopped taking her blood pressure medication two weeks before her devastating health crisis. She was found lying on the floor for two days, unable to reach the phone.
As paramedics scrambled to maneuver the house’s hoard and attend to her, no one paid much attention to the kitchen table. Yet, that piece of furniture held much backstory about Hannah’s decision- making process and state of mind. Both were dangerously unhealthy.
As we cleared the table, the red tablecloth felt “padded.” Removing it, we came to discover “layers” of tablecloths, covering the surface.
Tablecloth Layer #1: Bills:
We lifted the first red tablecloth and discovered its secrets.
Strewn throughout were various bills, both current and not so current. Some weren’t even opened. They had Hannah’s scrawled handwriting, on the envelopes, informing her that this bill arrived in 2003; this bill arrived in 2009. There were overdue bills, second notices, all requiring a complicated, tedious unravelling process. It took weeks to accomplish.
And it showed my family that Hannah was letting things go. Was is merely absent-minded? Or was it deliberate? After all, she didn’t pay- or even open- these bills. She simply covered everything up with a tablecloth. That was her solution?
Unfortunately, for the hoarder, that often appears to be a viable remedy to unpleasant realities. And bills, if nothing else, are unpleasant. This “symptom” signifies, oftentimes, how the hoarder can no longer be viewed as financially responsible. Guardians and financial powers of attorneys, therefore, need to step in now.
Hoarders may not utilize the tablecloth technique when it comes to bills. Some hoarders simply lose track of the mounds of accumulating paper. But there is a common disconnect:
“I don’t want to deal with this, so I won’t.”
Tablecloth Layer #2: Depression Denial
We pulled off another layer, this one pink. Packed sheets of notebook paper covered the table. The content of these pages contained Hannah’s written prayers asking for help with losing weight and meeting her “goals.” Sprinkled amongst her wish list were repeated mentions, “I’m depressed.”
And I immediately flashed to remembrances of her defiantly declaring, “I don’t need therapy. That’s for other people.”
This was a woman who endured abuse, trauma and severe poverty. But, not surprisingly, because of shame, she could not admit she needed help from anyone else besides “The Lord.”
She denied she was sad.
She denied she was depressed.
She denied there was a problem.
And, I guess, looking at her notebook entries, which abruptly stopped a year before her health crisis, she eventually denied there was a problem to even “The Good Lord.” She decided, again, to cover the table.
Hannah was suffering. Yet she was adamant about refusing help. She self-medicated instead with food and shopping, which, of course, exacerbated the hoarding.
What could have happened if she just received some professional counseling? What could have happened if she admitted she was miserable?
Tablecloth Layer #3: Dangerous Coping
The table still felt padded. We pulled off another layer (this one was floral).
The surface here was covered with various family members’ Social Security Numbers written on index cards and notes to herself about how to operate appliances and where she kept various “important things” that she was, I guess, afraid she’d lose track of.
Yet, with the event of her health crisis, the evidence was overwhelming. She had lost track of everything. A progression of mental fogginess was, perhaps explained by her massive stroke (or strokes)?
Hannah was disorganized and desperate, never wanting to admit to herself that her strategies to “get by” further jeopardized her life and safety. And her methods of staying on top of important pieces of information was, inevitably, only covered with another layer of tablecloth.
Hoarders often make notes to themselves, reminding them of important matters: people’s phone numbers, where the car keys are, how to operate the car, how to turn on a light or lock the front door. They believe these instructions will keep them safe. But these notes are often lost and buried somewhere. Their whereabouts, many times, is long forgotten.
Tablecloth Layer #4: The Sacred and the Meaningful
The padding on the table still existed. There was one more layer.
We removed the red and blue floral tablecloth to find scattered mementos: family photos and even the postcards my husband and I sent Hannah when we moved Westward…in 1999. It was shocking to see how these mementos were not in picture frames or even scrapbooks, for she insisted on keeping them. Hannah wouldn’t throw anything away.
Did these items mean anything to her? And, if they meant something, why did she bury them?
Perhaps, it was an all too common hoarding behavior: people bury their treasures, again, often forgetting where they buried them. The hoarder wants to keep not only his/her treasures safe, but himself/herself safe as well.
Hannah wanted to be safe. And she also wanted a clean house. Maybe she felt her tablecloth method achieved both. She could keep everything, yet still have things look pretty. Because, let’s not forget, on top of that first layer was a vase with silk flowers. She was trying for beauty.
Aesthetically pleasing, but at what price? Her health? Her safety? Her social life? Hannah didn’t let anyone “in.” She chose to shut out those people, representing those photographs and mementos. The biggest reasons? Probably shame and self-protection, which were both in overdrive. But what emotional damage did this do to not only her, but to others, as well? No man is an island.
Safekeeping. It appears to be a hallmark of a hoarder. Stay safe. Build a barrier. Build a cocoon. And somehow, over time, that morphs into a death trap. People have been found dead under the layers of cocooning, known as their homes. It’s private and quiet.
Usually, by the time the hoarding is discovered, it is at crisis level. It requires professional help of the “many hands” variety. It requires counseling. And that requires willingness from the hoarder. And if he/she is anything like Hannah, that will be a challenge, as they assert, “I don’t need help/therapy. I’m fine on my own.”
In fact, concerning the hoarding, the only way to effectively stop the madness was to remove her from that multi-room home and place her into a more contained care facility. Hannah is now limited to her bedroom. Facility staff frequently check on her, monitoring her hoarding tendencies so they do not flourish in this environment.
And sometimes, that is the best one can do. Hoarding is a compulsion, often born from trauma. You cannot reason with it. And it’s not as simple as “just get rid of the junk.” More will appear quickly in its absence.
Hoarding, from start to finish, is a layered issue. And we often must pick things apart, layer by layer, dealing with it.
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
Cancer: So Musical and Dramatic
I knew cancer would be scary and life-altering. But I didn’t know it’s also be so musical and dramatic.
I was diagnosed with Breast cancer in 2017. And my Type A personality took the news and ran with it into all kinds of worst-case scenario directions. There’s no denying cancer amplifies the sheer drama of life, death, l’amour, loss.
And, if you are a drama queen like yours truly, the heightened effect will show probably up in the music and films you ingest.
Observe.
A song like “It’s All Coming Back To Me Now,” whether Celine Dion or Meatloaf belts it out, is a “danger: high voltage” song for the diagnosed and their loved ones. I identified with it immediately.
In both music video versions of this song, this epic scale of mansions, candelabras, thunderstorms and the haunting presence of the departed on the lover left behind, can send one into over-the-top- drama. It sent me there, anyway. I just superimposed my husband into the song/video. Extreme caution here.
And then there’s Queen. Two heart-wrenching sob fests include, “Who Wants to Live Forever?” and “These are the Days of Our Lives.”
“Who Wants to Live Forever?” was written specifically for the 1980s film, “The Highlander.” The movie’s theme deals with an immortal man who becomes all-knowing and all-powerful. The downside? Even though he cannot die, he is not invulnerable to losing people he loves; he has to watch them die, one by one, as each era passes away. Living forever means little if you have to endure it without the loved ones who mean the most to you.
“These are the Days of Our Lives,” likewise, is another soul-ripper.
Again, written and performed by Queen, it is probably best known as lead singer, Freddie Mercury’s last recording before he succumbed to HIV in 1991. Its lyrics are every bit the reflective, end-of-life thoughts about, spoiler alert: meaningful love relationships.
Again, use caution viewing the dramatic, black and white music video. With Mercury at his most emaciated, it is a stark portrayal of reality, especially when that reality is “I’m going to die and I love you.”
My husband is at the epicenter of these lyrics every time I hear the song.
They say music is a spirit, one which teleports us, seduces us, inspires us. And I think there’s a lot of truth to that. How many of us can remember where we were and what was happening whenever we hear a particular song?
But all of this drama is not limited to music. Oh, Heavens, no! We must not forget the genre of film.
I have my go-to tear-jerkers: “Love Story,” “Wuthering Heights” (the 1930s Lawrence Olivier and Merle Oberon version) and “Terms of Endearment.” No surprise here, the theme is someone dying and some element of deep, abiding and tortuous love. So much fun. Where’s the popcorn? We need popcorn and Junior Mints.
Film doesn’t register nearly as intensely as music does for me in this capacity, but it does register. It has to deal with identifying, the main goal of any filmmaker telling his/her story. Grab that audience; make them identify with and feel your characters. Films about love and loss corner the market on that objective.
Since my diagnosis, music and film are not utilized just so I can make myself cry and feel bad about my circumstances. No. Rather, through the filter of the lyricist or character, I can explore my own cancer realities. What would I do if I were this film’s particular person? And it’s not always the dying character, either. It’s also those who are the left behind.
For me, there is a therapeutic value to going to these dramatic resources. Music and film serve as conduits. They trigger and awaken.
Am I a glutton for punishment? Possibly.
But, I think it has more to do with processing. I’m tapping into questions, potential realities and attempting to face my situation. Yes, I often use my imagination (uh-oh) and think about my husband. How’s he doing? What would his reaction be if/when I died?
But it’s more than that. It is the realization that I may be nowhere near coming to terms with and experiencing all I will go through, concerning cancer. And recognizing, when, not if, we will be separated is frightening.
It’s easier to accept that if death is a lon-n-n-n-g way off. It’s more painful if it’s coming quicker, and without asking for any permission.
I’m trying- and have tried- to have conversations with my husband about these film-and-music-inspired mortality thoughts. He runs for the hills whenever he can. No, it’s actually just the nearest parking lot. But, not surprisingly, it’s not his favorite subject matter. However, what if we do need to go there? What then?
Real questions. Real possibilities. Not just a song or a movie.
What about you? Can you examine the possibilities, the variety of outcomes? Can you process, face, make meaningful sense of and accept what is happening to you in your life?
Really? All of this from a song? All of this from a movie?
Well, for me, yes. And maybe, for you as well.
If that is the case, I encourage you, dear reader, to not berate yourself for it. Use it as therapy; use it as self-care. Use it to confront and soothe. Use these avenues of expression in whatever ways you need to.
Your life is very much an important song, very much an important movie. And you are the diagnosed star.
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
The Discard Response
For many of us abuse survivors, part of our recovery involves confronting and healing from the experience of being discarded. Our trauma responses to those types of treatment often manifest as Fight, Flight, Freeze, or Fawn. And sometimes, much like the stages of grief, we can cycle through more than one, or all of them, as we react to how were abused by our abuser (s).
Sounds like fun, huh?
I found myself cycling through these responses. Until a few years ago, I thought I was crazy, weak, and defective for doing so. Cue isolation and shame.
It’s only been recently that I have been bit by bit, breaking free of that toxic isolation and shame. These are two of the hallmarks of abuse and abusers. And, likewise, there are also hallmarks of reactions to that abuse and its perpetrators.
What I have noticed, in my own experience, is that I flung my trauma responses in desperate fashion. Great. Sounds well-adjusted. But the erratic desperation of trauma responses was par for the course. Abuse is destabilizing. Response to it is destabilizing. No matter how it’s expressed, we are, in some way, off-kilter. No shame there. How would anyone react when an explosion hits their life?
So, let’s peruse and demystify some of the chaos.
And then apply grace and compassion to ourselves… for surviving it.
The Discard:
Rejection. A breakup. A divorce. Abandonment. “Ghosting.”
We are treated in these ways, via our abuser who has decided to leave us physically, emotionally, maritally, financially. They decide/declare they are “done” with us. We have no say in the matter, presumably. We don’t get a vote.
That’s the decree. And we are traumatized, as we feel left alone, bereft. The Fight Response can show up as a refusal to accept being left. We vow to “win them back.” We vow to never give up. We vow to get them to change their minds.
Pleading phone calls, text messages, sobbing prayers to our Higher Power, maybe a little humiliating cyberstalking, thrown in for flair, can pop up here. We come from the position that they just need to see the error of their ways. The problem here? They often don’t see their decision to leave us as a mistake. They see that they are right, justified, honorable, even holy in their choice to walk away from us. A “bigger, better deal” beckons to them. They feel they deserve “so much more” than us. They may feel it’s simply “time to move on.”
To them, maybe, “It’s nothing personal.” But it feels personal to us. How could they? That becomes our cry.
If we recognize our thoughts are not their thoughts, what’s meaningful to us is not the same for them, we can, perhaps, more easily separate, disengage, and stop fighting for what is a defeat beyond our control. We cannot control another person. and “fighting” can be our self-destructive attempt at control.
They made their choice.
And for what it’s worth, abuse survivor to abuse survivor, they chose wrong.
You didn’t deserve to be discarded.
We now have the choice to fight for our healthier sense of self. We already are “the bigger, better deal.” We can live that way, fully, without them.
Flight can be another trauma response to the discard. This can be tricky. We can flee from them, from healthy relationships and situations, and, of course, from ourselves and from the truth.
Denial. Magical thinking. Self-medication. Some common tactics to when you and I want to “check out.”
Because the abuse and the trauma of being discarded is so painful, we want to avoid and numb. Refusal to address these realities in therapy, binging on the addiction of our choice, and telling ourselves that we’re really “fine” (when we are not) are all ways we choose to run away. The discard left us brutalized. No one enjoys feeling that feeling.
So, we reason if we can feel anything else but that, we’ll be safe.
Hate to tell ya, but nope. It doesn’t work like that. It just primes us for future abuse.
No one wants to attend an autopsy. There’s a scary corpse there. It’s gruesome. There’s too much death here. We want life. A good, happy life. Why should we focus, then, on death?
To that, I offer a well-worn sentiment on adversity, of any kind…
“The only way out is through.”
We need to stop running away from the monster. We need to stop and confront the abusive circumstances.
And that’s not to be confused with confronting our abuser.
To do that will, more than likely, invite more pain and dysfunction. We are beyond the person being the source of our issues. Their harm now must turn into our healing. Confronting them, in person, will not necessarily accomplish and facilitate that healing. Confronting how we can become healthier, however, can create our healing. Fleeing from ourselves blurs the image in the mirror.
We need to stop and face ourselves, not our abuser, and all that comes with it.
There’s a difference between that and freezing, in our trauma response to the discard.
Yes, indeed, want another fun response we display? We can also freeze when discarded.
This is not simply about doing nothing, in a moment. This is about being immobilized, paralyzed, disempowered, all because we are traumatized and/or triggered or retriggered. We feel unsafe, in danger. Sometimes we genuinely are. Sometimes, it is our past experiences firing off wild messages that, if we move or act, we will encounter harm.
It is the bunny rabbit in the wild when a wolf is on the scene. The bunny knows stillness is its survival technique, its prey-centric skill set against a predator. Use whatever the creature has at its disposal, therefore.
We respond similarly.
How this can often show up concerning being discarded, is when we operate from an enabling vantage point. We can reason with ourselves that if we just freeze, make no movement, take no action of any sort, we can be safe as our predatory wolf, the actual discard from the abuser, will pass us by. We will no longer be the “prey” of an abandoned person. the relationship, the love, the marriage, the friendship, AND our original sense of familiar self. Those important things will all be safely restored and returned to us.
Just be the bunny.
But the bunny also has another survival technique: hop away to safety. Hop for its life. Hop in any direction, just as long as it gets away from the dangerous environment.
Here’s where we need not to judge our desperate attempts at survival. We may have hopped into other dangerous, unhealthy situations, but at least we moved. We need to acknowledge that and give ourselves credit for that. Healing has treacherous terrain attached to it; the process is often confusing, unclear, filled with setbacks, failures, and yes, pain. But moving, eventually, will get us where we need to be.
Keep moving; keep hopping, any way we can.
Another trauma response that we can use is that of Fawn. It can, like freeze, and involve a bit of surrender, “going belly up.” The approach, like the other trauma responses, asserts the “I’ll do anything to stay safe” line of thinking, even if our safe definition involves having our abuser in our lives, trying to bargain, to keep the peace, at any cost.
It can, indeed, mimic the bargaining stage of the grieving process. It can be passive in our attempts, silently, secretly hoping with our wishful thinking and begging prayers, that our submission will get our discarding abuser to rethink their choice, come back to us, and treat us differently (better).
Or, of course, we can, again, actively pursue and plead with our abusive and abandoning person, asserting, to one degree or another, “I’ll do anything!” (“Just please don’t leave me.”)
Again, we’re attempting to stay “safe,” to keep some version of our love and happiness definition alive and well, and in our lives.
Here is often where we can lose our dignity. Often, in abuse circumstances, we have been groomed to accept, tolerate, and internalize mistreatment of all kinds. We have learned, wrongly so, that we deserve it. It’s “normal.”
It is NOT.
But the grooming we have learned has us contorting and twisting, adapting, and changing, all to suit the needs, wants, and demands of the abuser.
We continue this, even within the context of being discarded by that abusive person. Part of why we do this involves the wrong core belief that we need that toxic person’s “permission” to disengage and live free from harsh and harmful treatment. And even though the abuser may, very well, be “done” with us, they often refuse to permit us to move on. It’s a sick, ego-driven mindset for them. It’s a power imbalance, with them being all-powerful, while we continue to yearn, pine, and be in the beggar’s position for the hope and the potential of any kind of scraps of love and attention.
They enjoy the fact that we don’t get over them. They enjoy being the un-gettable object of desire and focus. Why, then, would they do anything to change that? Why would they let us go?
Therefore, we need to take our power back, work on building and restoring healthy self-esteem. We are the ones who need to grant ourselves the permission to move on from them. That is part of our work and our healing. Therapy, prayer, meditation, and support groups can aid in that process.
But we cannot wait for the permission to be healthy and happy to ever come from the abuser in the discarding situation. It will not come. They have chosen; they have moved on.
It’s time we choose ourselves and move on, away from them as well.
Rethink Discard: Not Trash:
Changing our perspective on how we view the discard, specifically, with us being discarded, involves changing our value from trash to treasure. We are not garbage, even though the experience of “being thrown away” has made us feel like trash. Our inherent worth is valuable treasure.
We are an original creation, never again to be duplicated on this planet. Healthier people in our lives will see that, honor that, and love that about us.
But before we look to “other,” we need to work on accepting that in and for ourselves. We need not to abandon or reject ourselves.
Acceptance is ongoing, ever-learning, unique, worthwhile work.
And we are worth doing that work.
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
“The Discard Response” explores how we react to the trauma of abandonment. | elephant journal
Boo! Is Candy Scary To You?
It’s that time of year again-the official start of the “candy holidays,” kicked off by Halloween. It can be sheer torture, facing the overwhelming displays of treats now. This is especially the case for those of us struggling with food, weight, and body image issues and disorders.
Indeed, for a lot of us out there, it can trigger disordered eating patterns.
So, what do we do? We can’t stop Halloween- and all “candy holidays” from coming. No, it’s not an easy situation. But we can look for perspective and help, even considering the temptations and issues we face, dealing with candy and “trigger” situations.
“All things are lawful for me, but all things are not expedient: all things are lawful for me, but all things edify not.”
1 Corinthians 10:23
Candy, by itself, is neither evil, nor good. It’s inanimate. It has no nutritional value; and yes, it’s loaded with sugar, other preservatives and colors. The “moderation” issue, therefore, comes into play. You and I will probably not die or have the worst case scenario, (whatever we define that to be for our lives, such as the notoriously dreaded “getting fat” fear) if we eat some candy, from time to time, in our lives.
(And I say that as a current survivor of both eating disorders and Breast cancer).
We would probably benefit from looking at eating candy as a choice; candy has no nutritional value. So, according to 1 Corinthians, it is “lawful,” but does it “edify?”
The constant staples in our lives need to be healthy choices: healthy food, balanced exercise, sleep, quality relationships, nurturing support and numerous daily spiritual, emotional, and physiological choices. That applies to each of us; we don’t require a cancer or eating disorder diagnosis to make that point relevant. It is about an overall healthy lifestyle, not if we ate some candy corn today.
Yes, it’s challenging, facing the overwhelming flavors, colors, choices- and emotional ties that Halloween candy can represent to us. But remember, there is credence to a life that includes enjoyment.
Are you and I taking time to enjoy our lives? For some of us out there, that may mean eating some candy today; for others, it may mean choosing another option.
Regardless of what you choose today, “to candy or not to candy,” it would probably do us some good to look at candy with newer eyes today.
It’s not your best friend or your worst enemy. It’s candy.
And you and I are so much more valuable than its existence.
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
Translation: Codependency
Cancer has gotten my attention on many things.
But one thing I hadn’t quite counted on confronting was codependency. And, oddly enough, or appropriately enough, I faced mine as I was placed in a position in which I needed to be taken care of in an intense way. There’s nothing like a threat of death, major surgery and life-altering changes to one’s physical body to really get someone to face their own limitations and unflattering codependent nature.
One can argue we all are codependent, to varying degrees. It’s not just about enabling a drug addict or an alcoholic, say, giving them money, a place to crash or bailing them out of jail. Codependency is often more subtle than that.
Again, trusty-dusty Wikipedia gives us its definition…
“Codependency is a behavioral condition in a relationship where one person enables another person's addiction, poor mental health, immaturity, irresponsibility, or under-achievement. Among the core characteristics of codependency is an excessive reliance on other people for approval and a sense of identity. Definitions of codependency vary, but it is generally defined as a subclinical, situational, and/or episodic behavioral condition similar to that of dependent personality disorder. The term is less individually diagnostic and more descriptive of a relationship dynamic...”
Uh-huh.
Human beings are nothing, if not codependent. After all, we’re social creatures, interdependent on working and living together. Each of us has strengths and weaknesses. The “many hands make light work” principle is often trotted out, encouraging unity and getting things done, etcetera…
On and on, creating nothing but codependent behavior for miles!
Yes, we need to be helpful, of service… within reason.
With BALANCE!
And here is where you and I can get tripped up, as our poor self-images, need for purpose and our extreme approval- seeking demand we overextend ourselves, again and again.
It would be ideal if we would and could recognize this, each time we fling ourselves into self-destructive, unrealistic “save the world” patterns.
But often, we are too much in the middle of our self-imposed tornadoes to witness them spinning us out of control. And then, like Dorothy, from “The Wizard of Oz,” we say to our crisis-stricken lives, “Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore!”
Cancer has strongly nudged, if not, forced me to examine how I was showing up for others in a codependent fashion.
Maybe you’ll see some of yourself here.
Again, as human beings, it’s hard not to fall into at least a little codependency. Largely, I believe, that’s because it has a lot to do with unrealistic expectations, both others’ and our own. Boundaries can be blurry, if they even exist at all when we traipse into a relationship dynamic with another person.
Codependency can be sneaky and subtle. It is often revealed through what others say to us. Here are just a few of my greatest hits. Enjoy.
“You’re so thoughtful!”
I have heard these words uttered repeatedly throughout my life. It usually follows on the heels of me doing some gift-giving. I love to give gifts; it’s a big way I express love.
However, I’ve needed to adjust my gift-giving, post cancer. I soon discovered, although it was never voiced, certain people expected the gifts to keep rolling in after my diagnosis, while I was in the hospital, getting my surgery and as my energy levels were zapped.
Still, that notorious expectation… People wanted things “back to normal” from me. Yes, they paid lip service, acknowledging my health crisis, saying things like “You take care of yourself.”
Yet, actions do speak louder than words, don’t they?
Eventually, their patience wore thin. I was taking too long to recover. I wasn’t “back to normal.” I was different. And soon, there was the pressure for the gift pipeline to resume. Resentment, and sarcasm were executed as I tried to “explain” why I just was not getting with the program.
And soon, unrealistic expectation reared its ugly head within me. Guilt. Arguments like “I should give them money, flowers, gifts like I did before. It’s not that bad. I can do this. They’re counting on me. I can’t let them down.”
I was saying this stuff as doctors strongly cautioned I “take it easy.” That meant no gift-giving, no excessive thoughtfulness (obsession) with pleasing someone else.
I had to take care of myself. I had to rest. I had to receive gifts and help instead of worrying about dispersing them like Santa at Christmas.
Ho- Ho-Ho. Not as merry, as I battled with expectation.
Translation: Codependency
What should everyone expect in this situation? When does expectation become demand?
Gift-giving/receiving has to do the spirit in which it’s done (the intention from both giver and receiver), the expectation (from both parties) and the sense of self derived from doing so concerning both parties (“Am I loved or worthless, based on the transaction?”)
That last one, especially, just shines a big Klieg light onto the “all-or-nothing” way of thinking. Codependency thrives on that premise. We’re either Savior or Villain. There’s no room in between.
“You’re very conscientious!”
This statement has also been directed at me. It’s not in the realm of gift-giving. Rather, it mostly operates in the context of “acts of service.” I do something for someone. Fairly straightforward, right?
Nope.
Here was usually where I responded to an emergency. The only thing was, it wasn’t a one-time thing. No. I had to repeatedly rescue the individual. This was a pattern.
Yet I was not being conscientious for conscientious’ sake. I was simply envisioning the worst- case scenario… and it was solely up to me to prevent it.
How’s that for ego? How’s that for completely unrealistic, unhealthy and unsafe expectation?
Translation: Codependency
Here’s where I was a participant. In these circumstances, whether they be rife with abuse, manipulation or dysfunction, I was choosing. I think that’s what gets lost in the shuffle for so many of us, even within these circumstances. We are constantly choosing, making thousands of decisions each day about how we will respond to, well, life.
Iyanla Vanzant, a well-known life coach, has a great quote: “You can always make another choice.”
Not surprisingly, we, codependents are not thrilled about that statement. We’d rather believe “there is no other choice” and “I have to do this.”
No, we don’t.
It’s not about shaming anyone who has been through abuse and treacherous situations. When you’re in it, you are in survival. There may not be much luxury to analyze the complexities of the environment as, say, you and I are simply trying to stay alive and sane.
However, if we can grasp onto any notion of power and control that we do have access to, we can tap into that power of “making another choice.” It’s not easy; it’s not instant. It’s ongoing and imperfect.
And it is possible, however, whenever, wherever you and I can accept it. We can make different- and better- choices.
“You have a servant’s heart.”
This one still makes me cringe. I have heard it spoken to me within a volunteer context, where being pleasing and accommodating were held in high regard. And, usually, that means there is some form of worthy cause, implying self-sacrifice and “the greater good.”
In my personal experience, this applies to church. I want to state, church is just one of the many possibilities out there when it comes to being codependent in group settings. I’m not “picking on the church.”
However, yes, indeed, codependency is often encouraged within a church setting. For me, personally, whether I was doing something for a pastor, “the team” or “for the Lord,” it still called into question what was appropriate… and what was not.
It is a sticky question to entertain. Just how DO you and I deal with things when it appears The Almighty is counting on us?
But notice my words; I say “appears,” meaning, is that really what’s going on here? Or is it something else?
Volunteering is a noble, loving, human endeavor. But, if/when you and I add matters of faith to the equation, there can be added pressure and blurred boundaries to the mix.
I received a lot of great insights, camaraderie, and personal discoveries of myself within my church volunteering experiences.
But, undeniably, I also received some toxic messages, encouraging harmful codependent behavior, for “the greater good.”
For me, that meant staying long hours, being sleep deprived, stressing myself out because of unrealistic expectations (from both myself and from church staff), neglecting my husband and my writing, because, after all, “this” (whatever the current task or project of the day was) APPEARED to be that much more important.
“THIS,” after all, included…
Saving lives…
Saving souls…
Feeding the hungry…
And so, I heard the statement, part approval, part warning…
“You have a servant’s heart.”
As long as the pastors were pleased with my performance, as long as I made things flow easier, generated more money, removed burdens, was compliant and cheerful, while being self-sacrificing, I was, indeed, that stellar person with the servant’s heart.
Deviate from those mentioned examples, however, and I risk being the exact opposite? A selfish, unloving, uncaring person?
Can you see the agonizing, double-bind trap to it all?
Translation: Codependency:
We all need to do our part. Yes.
However, spoiler alert, misuses of power and codependency can thrive. And, as we’ve heard of many scandals over the years, church is not immune from those exploitative behaviors.
But, again, this goes beyond the church. Think of any “well-meaning cause.”
“The greater good.”
Think of organizations and groups that have set such high bars of curing humanity’s ills. To make any and all of that happen, even the most well-intentioned group can fall prey to encouraging codependency. There can, without anyone realizing it, emerge the message…
“You need to keep giving and doing at this high level, for the cause, so we can experience the results of it.”
Yet, there is less realization and appreciation to OTHER results which can occur if we try to keep up this impossible pace…
An emotional and mental breakdown…
Depression…
Anxiety…
Addictive behaviors…
Broken marriages and relationships…
Deterioration of one’s physical health…
And, while I was impacted by much of the above listed, what, again, got my attention the most was that last one, via my cancer diagnosis.
Now, to employ church terminology, my “temple,” my “vessel,” was at risk.
Translating Codependency:
I wish I could say that my epiphany was one distinct moment. It wasn’t, even with my diagnosis. Rather, it was a subtle awakening, like slowly coming out of anesthesia.
I think that’s what it can be like for most of us codependents. We often don’t know what we’ve experienced until, perhaps, years- even decades- after the fact.
Hindsight, 20/20 stuff.
But, sooner or later, we come to recognize the dysfunction, the pattern. And, sooner or later, we recognize it’s not working. Our way of dealing with life must change.
People pleasing and being viewed as “nice” can bombard us with guilt and obligation. But we need to look closer at what those connotations are all about.
And, within the framework of codependency, it’s about others’ needs being more important than our own. Each of us needs to recognize our needs, wants and desires are JUST as valid as someone else’s. And sometimes, they take priority over that other person’s situation.
It’s the cliché example of the Oxygen mask on an airline flight. You need to put your own mask on FIRST before you can help anyone else.
And, even if there is no one else around to help, you are worthy enough to pay attention to.
That is the translating we codependents need to be doing.
All by ourselves, without anyone else’s needs or demands, we are worth it.
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
The Hiss of Nice
It can be oh, so quiet. Stealth. Unassuming. It winds it way around to you. You barely hear the tail rattle, or the “S-S-S-S-S-S” emanate from its forked tongue.
And why would you?
There appears to be nothing to it. You give “nice” people the benefit of the doubt.
I once confronted someone about a reoccurring issue. I mentioned how a deadline kept getting missed.
This person normally was quite jovial, pleasant, charming. Therefore, their response to me was startling. Instead of acknowledging there was an issue, taking responsibility for it, and then following through with changed action, they sharply spat back…
“I think I’ve been very nice about this.”
And still, following that pointed remark, there continued to be inconsistencies, for which they avoided ownership of their failings.
It was then and there I received a gigantic lesson in “nice.”
Nice isn’t always so nice.
Often, at best, “nice” is passive-aggressive… and weaponized.
“I think I’ve been very nice about this” is the nice response.
Nice is all about pointing out just how wonderful it is.
Look at me.
But “Kind” says nothing about how kind they are. Kind just is.
It has nothing to prove. It has no one to please. It is largesse. It is freely given love, grace, acceptance, forgiveness, without keeping score.
Yes, concerning “I think I’ve been very nice about this,” there, indeed, was a keeping score element attached to it.
From my vantage point, it felt like this person was awaiting my congratulations on just how nice they were to me, this mere mortal. Forget about staying on topic. I felt like it was my job to tell this person how fantastic they were… for failing in their responsibilities.
Nice has a superiority to it, a judgment.
“I think I’ve been very nice about this.”
Translation, perhaps? “I am a better person than you. Look at how I’m tolerating your behavior, daring to address what you think is a problem. You should be ashamed.”
Now, to be fair, I cannot say, for sure, that’s exactly what this person meant. But that’s how it felt to me, on a gut level, in the moment.
And, again, you stack “Nice” up against “Kind,” and you see a dramatic difference.
Kind is about decency, for decency’s sake, not getting accolades for doing one’s job.
Kind minds its own business, does its own work. It’s not interested in being repeatedly told how wonderful a human being they are for doing their job.
If talk is cheap, then Kindness is priceless.
Nice has strings. Agenda.
“I think I’ve been very nice about this.”
Did you catch it? It’s quite subtle, but it’s there. There is an expectation of getting something from us. It’s implied that because “they” scratched our backs, we’ll be obligated to do the same concerning them.
Nice is agenda-laden: control, power, sympathy, “perks.”
Nice hisses with being owed something. Nice places us in a debtor’s prison. We can, all too easily, feel trapped, like we have no choice but to respond according to specification.
But “Kind” is not transactional.
Kind gives because the spirit and the heart are willingly engaged in doing so. And there’s the key word: willingly. No obligation, no strings, no expectation. Kind is not interested in making a purchase. Kind, literally, is charity. There’s no pay off expected. There’s nothing to earn. It’s about freely receiving.
Nice is concerned with appearances.
Perhaps you know a person who is always involved in the good causes. They’re constantly volunteering at their church, their kids’ school. They regularly attend fundraisers and walkathons. And they have the photos, plaques and adulation to prove it.
A segment of toxic individuals out there is collectively known as “Communal Narcissists.” It’s probably a safe bet that many “nice people” are, indeed, these kinds of Narcissists. They are the do-gooders, not for doing good’s sake, but for how other people view and acclaim them.
There’s nothing wrong with worthy causes and volunteering. The key is the motive for doing it. Is it to help others? Or is it for a photo op or the esteem others lavish upon this person?
“I think I’ve been very nice about this.”
It is about image. The “nice” person my be overrun with the internal question, “How does this make me look?”
But, again, Kind is different; it gets messy and doesn’t care what it looks like.
Whereas a “nice” response is looking for every camera, every bit of attention and publicity, the Kind response is trying not to garner unnecessary attention. The Kind person recognizes that would be a distraction to the cause and the work they’re trying to do. There’s an element of anonymity involved. The phrase, “Never let your right hand know what your left hand is doing” captures that spirit beautifully.
Kind is too busy to worry about the appearance. Doing the worthwhile thing is what matters most to them.
Nice is a double standard.
There is a hypocrisy within this state of being. In a certain toxic “nice” person, there exists both the preferential treatment of some people over others, those deemed “more valuable,” and the unfair expectation the nice hiss demand of us. Not just expects. Demands.
Returning to the person who uttered, “I think I’ve been very nice about this,” I experienced both that preferential treatment and the spirit of demand from them, determining I should defer constantly, no matter what the situation was.
I was treated in an abusive, dismissive way by this individual.
Yet, I repeatedly witnessed their capability to treat someone else in a radically different manner. It wasn’t about unique personalities or someone having a bad day. Rather, it was the intentional assessment of how I was disposable, whereas another specific person was someone assigned the value of opportunity and gain. Hence, the different treatment.
To the outside world, I encountered them, via fake cordial pleasantries. But, behind closed doors? I got the real deal: disrespect and abuse.
But Kind is consistent.
It responds with universal respect to all. That doesn’t mean the kind person is perfect. It simply means that their determination, from the start, is to view life and humanity as precious. And then, that person acts accordingly.
There’s no preferential treatment, no sidling up to a person for opportunistic gain. There’s no “angel in public, devil at home” component to their natures. What we see and experience of them is truly what we get.
They don’t hiss with “nice” because “kind” speaks with dignity, humility and equality.
I once heard how the great boxer, Muhammad Ali made it an intentional point, at any of the high-publicity events he attended, to purposely go out of his way, to go to the back kitchens and to the “lesser rooms,” to meet the “common people,” over the celebrities.
He preferred spending time with these people. Why? Because they were real; they were kind. He didn’t need to worry about Narcissistic, “yes men” hisses emanating from them.
Kind doesn’t hiss. It doesn’t need to.
So, it’s in our best interest to discern what we hear and experience of a person. If we feel “nice” is coming at us, what’s behind it? We’ll know if something is off. The “nice hiss” trips our gut check. We can detect it. Just like we can detect genuine kindness.
The homework then? Start detecting.
Do we hear that hiss?
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
