It’s Not Them, It’s Me

Hugging Them Less Sincerely

Lately, when I meet one of what I now think of as my old crowd, we still exchange the requisite, hugs, but it’s not the same. I feel like they’re no more than a conditioned habit; all action, no feeling. At first, I attributed it to their response to the huge step backward I took in November, until I realized it’s all me. I’m the one who hugs as a matter of habit rather than a true desire to give and receive hugs.

In stepping back, I re-erected the walls that are my old friend, trauma response, to protect my soft, mushy heart. I’m not allowing myself to offer my usual warmth and affection after having it thrown back in my face by a few. In essence, I’ve closed my heart, not only to those who let me down, but to the entire community they represent. It’s reminiscent of the virtual mirrored ball I encased myself in back in my twenties to protect myself from an ex-boyfriend who was flinging all sorts of negative energy my way.

It took me decades to learn that mirrored ball didn’t protect me as much as it insulated me from all feelings; both good and bad, so I lived in a kind of emotional vacuum while marinating in my own toxic blend. It didn’t begin to shatter until a couple of years before I filed for divorce when I inadvertently began letting all the wrong people in, and flinging a lot of pent-up negative energy myself. It was another few years before I learned to filter more than shield.

Back Into the Shell

While detaching from everyone again is not what I intended, I realize my normal response to being hurt, let down, or betrayed is to pull back into my personal turtle shell and force everyone back to arm’s length. My all-or-nothing tendencies aren’t entirely bad though. I’m learning it’s OK to throw up those 12-foot, barbed-wire topped walls for a little while, but only as long as it takes to get my bearings, and re-engage the more discerning part of my heart which performs energetic litmus tests to determine where, and with whom I can let my guard down a little, and those rare cases where I can let it down a lot.

As time goes on, I become less of a turtle, and more of a crab; again for a little while, lashing out with my claws if someone gets too close, while scampering around sideways, scouting out the next safe place to land. At times, I may burrow down into the sand to rest from all the emotional energy I’m allowing myself to taste before emerging to scamper around again, legs waving, claws clacking and moving to the music, even if it’s only in my head.

For a little while, I had minimal contact with any of the old crowd as I frequented different places where I was, if not anonymous, less known, and disconnected from any particular group. I knew it wouldn’t remain so simple for long, with old places closing, new ones opening, and people discovering the further out places I’d been choosing to go. There’s also the added problem of having been dancing for over 30 years, making me a recognizable face over a pretty wide, geographical area. But it also means somewhat warmer hugs (on my part too), when I run into people I don’t see very often.

Emerging as a More Discerning Me

As I’ve said before, being aware of the problem or situation is the first step in changing or correcting it. Knowing I’m holding back a huge part of myself right now gives me the opportunity to consciously choose when to be a turtle, or a crab, or to allow the warmer, softer part of me to come through on those hugs which are so popular amongst the dance crowd.

I learned the other night that even people I wasn’t seeing often on a regular basis noticed when I wasn’t around at all for awhile. They might have only seen me once or twice a month, but my absence was noticed since my presence was consistent for so long. While it warms my heart to know I’m missed, I’m not ready to be incautious with my heart right now. I’m ready to go out into the world more often again, but not without my filters firmly in place, and my defenses ready and waiting, and set on stun…just in case.

Those who I am able to hug fully and sincerely may not notice they’re unicorns in my world right now, nor will they be likely to know how much I appreciate their presence in my life after the upheavals of the last year and a half. I’m OK with that. Opening up is further down the line as I emerge from my cocoon, spread my new, slightly damp wings, and learn to fly once again. It’ll be awhile before I’m willing to risk being battered and bruised again for the sake of testing the emotionally energetic waters.

Taking Whatever Time I Need

In some ways, I bounce back more easily now, in part because I don’t fall as far, and in part because I’ve learned a few tricks along the way. In others, I need to nurse my wounds for a little longer, and reinforce the cushioning around my heart before risking another shot to it. Like all that came before, the last ones didn’t take me all the way down, but the memory is still fresh, and some of the wounds are still raw.

I do miss hugging with all my heart. It had become such an integral part of my social world. But I’ve learned not everyone deserves to be hugged that completely; often because they can’t handle the responsibility of giving and receiving on that level. I will continue to learn to choose wisely, as I’m a long way from mastering the skill.

Grateful for Evolving Coping Mechanisms

My gratitudes today are:

1. I’m grateful for warm, heartfelt hugs, and look forward to finding them again.
2. I’m grateful for the lessons which teach me to be more discerning.
3. I’m grateful for learning I can not only be a turtle, but a crab when I need to. A shell is a shell, after all.
4. I’m grateful for the few friends who truly can take me as I am, in all my messiness.
5. I’m grateful for easing back into the social world I know, and used to love without limits.

About the Author

Sheri Conaway is a Holistic Ghostwriter, and an advocate for cats and mental health. Sheri believes in the Laws of Attraction, but only if you are a participant rather than just an observer. Her mission is to Make Vulnerable Beautiful. In her spare time, she’s also an accountant with extensive experience in Government Contracting.

Pushing Myself Physically, Closing Doors Emotionally

Compensating with Excessive Physical Effort

According to most of my friends and fellow dancers, I’m a lot more active than most people so soon after major surgery. In my defense, I thought 3 months was excessive in the first place, though in some instances, it’s been spot on. I’ve increased my daily walks, albeit accidentally, to about 2.65 miles, but I know when I need to cut back.

Case in point: Thursday night, after walking 2.65 miles, dancing most of the line dances between 6 and 9, and spending about 35 minutes working on a couple of the new ones at home, I woke up after a mere hour of sleep with my legs complaining. This continued hourly until I finally took a couple of Aleve around 7, and finally, got up and moved. Clearly, I overdid the exercise, or underdid the stretching, or both after the plethora of exercise.

Friday began with 45 minutes of circuit training with my personal trainer who decided it was time to step things up a notch or twelve. Though my legs were tired afterwards, it meant they were well warmed up for 90 minutes of ballet an hour later. I’d already decided to go dancing again, so I knew I’d better respect the body that had already been well-worked by 2, and shortened my walk to about 1.5 miles instead of the usual 2.65. It’s not that I didn’t think I could make the 2.65 mile circuit. It’s because I knew if I did, I wouldn’t be dancing very much later. I may be pushing my limits every day, but I also know how far I can push them without being in complete misery for the next few days.

Overcompensating

There is a slight down-side to pushing myself to return to my normal (or better) activity levels as soon as possible. I’m allowing myself to feel a bit envious of the love and support being showered on someone else right now, who’s also in healing mode. I know it’s silly, but my feelings are my feelings. Eventually, I will work through them, and stop feeling sorry for myself, but for now, I need to sit with the feelings, and allow myself to have them without judgement. In the meantime, the more I move my body, the better for me physically, mentally, and emotionally. Right now, I might feel like it’s small compensation for the lack of support I feel I’m attracting, but I’ll be stronger in the long run.

I also know the outward show of strength I learned as a trauma response when I wasn’t supported as a child works against me at times…but it’s all I know after so many years of using it as a fallback whenever times got tough. I know I don’t easily allow people in, nor do I know how to ask for support in a healthy way. Before I can form complete sentences, the trauma response kicks in and chastises me for whining. Though I’ve learned to stop blaming myself for those trauma responses, I’m still working through the tendency to be overly responsible for everything that happens in my life. The healing journey continues, in spite of those areas where I’m still stuck.

Meanwhile, I continue to move my body in hopes I’ll ultimately cause all the stuck energy to move itself along until it pushes through the clogs, or I find a way to loosen them to improve the flow. I suspect pushing myself to get out of that sticky, stodgy comfort zone will start to make a difference as long as I’m persistent and don’t let up when it becomes harder. I understand I can’t help who I am right now, but I can make small changes to clear the way to become a better person inside and out. It begins and ends with gratitude.

Grateful for Another Round of Lessons

My gratitudes today are:

1. I’m grateful for learning to let myself feel the feels, even when they’re unpleasant.
2. I’m grateful for learning the me I am now isn’t the me I have to remain.
3. I’m grateful for understanding lack of support is a direct result of my own past actions and behaviors.
4. I’m grateful for learning I can wallow in self-pity for a short time, but then I need to get moving in one way or another.
5. I’m grateful for knowing I have a long way to go before I learn to let people get close to me, because each time I get burned, I fall back into old habits, even if I don’t go back as far, nor stay there as long.

About the Author

Sheri Conaway is a Holistic Ghostwriter, and an advocate for cats and mental health. Sheri believes in the Laws of Attraction, but only if you are a participant rather than just an observer. Her mission is to Make Vulnerable Beautiful and help entrepreneurs touch the souls of their readers and clients so they can increase their impact and their income.