So, it’s time to do the cycle I’ve been promising. I came up with a list of some typical 2+2=5 beliefs that we bulimics may have complete faith in – if only subconsciously, and I let you choose which one most resonates with you. Turns out this one “won” by just a hair:
#5 If I fall behind or make a mistake, I’ll never recover. This makes me think of what I observed in my mother: she just got further and further into poverty, isolation, and despair. I still don’t know how she could have dug herself out had she survived. This makes me very afraid of making mistakes or risking too much.
I’m really glad you picked this one, since I need to do a cycle on it for myself anyway. The educational CD I’ve been listening to this week asked me to consider my 3 greatest fears and what I’m doing every day to overcome them. Turns out that this is definitely one of my 3 greatest fears. My others are 1) regret and 2) circumstances of overwhelm where I have so much to do that I end up feeling panicky and paralyzed.
I believe that my fear of somehow making a mistake and not being able to recover is my absolute greatest fear. In many ways, it’s a fear of hopelessness – that once things become “hopeless,” I may as well lie down and die. That sounds awful, huh? I guess for much of my life, I was always just on the brink of hopelessness, but there was always SOMETHING for me to hold on to, besides the ever present, but horribly unappealing, option of suicide. Ugh. You can see how this fear definitely clouds my interpretations of the world in very bad ways. I’m sure it’s still affecting me, my feelings, my decisions in subtle, unconscious ways. Let’s use a cycle to get to the bottom of it, fight it’s irrationality with clarity, and get rid of this old emotional garbage . . .
Thinking Journal: As a child, I felt like my family (my mother, my sister and I) were always just on the border of hopelessness due to our poverty. My mother may, in fact, have been beyond hope. She was a chain smoker even though she suffered with emphysema and could really not afford her expensive habit. I tried my best to get her to stop – I tried educating her; I tried begging her; I tried being mean to her; I even used my health as a weapon to make her feel guilty enough to quit. Since I was allergic to the smoke, I was sick an awful lot. But, she continued. She couldn’t keep a job for whatever reasons, so we stayed completely dependent on my father’s child support checks, which never came on time and sometimes didn’t come at all when he was in a bad mood or trying to manipulate us or whatever reason he had. I lived, even as a child, knowing that just one problem could send us over the edge into that dark place where there was no escaping from. If the car broke down, if I got sick again, if mom’s bad teeth started bothering her again, if one of us had an accident, it would all be over. We would get kicked out on the street; my sister and I would have to go live with my father (I would have run away for sure if they tried to force that upon me); we would have to give up our dogs; I would have to quit school; we would lose the car; we would end up in a shelter somewhere downtown; Leslie and I would end up uneducated, angrier than we were, and probably end up in jail or dead of the cold in a gutter somewhere. I would have to watch my mom die an even slower, more painful death than she was now, with her cigarettes, regret, and desperation. I remember when my mom died, I believed (though certainly didn't like thinking about it) that it was probably good that my mom died because she was so far into poverty, poor health, and bad circumstances, that there would be no way for her to catch back up. And, the rest of her life would be just awful.
I’m feel angry . . . I feel angry that I truly believed it would be better for my mom that she died! I feel angry that I had to live with such fears all the time as a child. I’m angry that we lived so close to the edge. I’m angry that my mom continued to do nothing to help us out. I feel angry that the tub was sinking! I feel angry that the electricity and phone went off regularly! I feel angry that the damn car was always breaking down on us when we seemed to need it the most! I feel angry that not once she did demonstrate any creativity in solving any of our problems. I feel so hopelessly angry that not once did I see her actually solve ANY of our huge and growing number of problems! I feel so hopelessly angry that I learned that problems don’t get fixed – they just breed other problems. Once problems creep up, you’re doomed.
Which makes me sad. I’m so sad that mom couldn’t cope with all that was on her plate. I’m so sad she had all these growing problems to deal with all on her own, except for her 2 angry, whiny daughters who offered her no assistance whatsoever. I’m also so sad that she did nothing to make me feel safe. She did nothing to alleviate the persistent pressure on the household. Didn’t she realize how trapped I felt? Didn’t she care? I’m so sad that I learned that I’m not worth any effort to deal with a hopeless situation. I’m so sad that I learned I’m not worthy of effort.
Which makes me mad again. I’m so fucking pissed that my father continued to play games with us, which just made my mother worse. I’m so fucking pissed that he made her spend her precious little energy taking him to court to get our tiny little child support money to keep our heads above water. I’m so fucking pissed that she continued to live in complete dependence on him. I’m so angry that she let us sink deeper and deeper into poverty and dependence and hopelessness, and she did nothing. I’m so angry that I continue to live with this fear long after she died.
But, that makes me sad because I don’t see how she possibly COULD have done better. I was sick all the time, so she had to be able to pick me up from school and take care of me. She had no teeth left in her head, so she had no confidence to go out and look for work. She had no clothes to wear to a decent job even if she did get one. Our car was a wreck and completely undependable. I was scared to have to rely on it, particularly during our severe New England winters; I’m sure she must have been scared, too. And, this makes me sad that I’m STILL unable to see any alternatives she had. I’m sad that I’m STILL unable to see any opportunities and help-lines that I’m sure she could have made use of. I’m sad that I’m STILL unable to think creatively about big problems.
And, this all makes me feel SO incredibly afraid. I know too well how easy it can be for people to get in way over their heads. This makes me very afraid of the unexpected little problems that always seem to crop up when I have the fewest resources (energy, strength, money, help) to deal with them. I feel so afraid since nothing in this life can be totally predictable – except that there WILL be problems and things WILL let you down and I WILL get sick and hurt and things WILL require a LOT of money, energy, and time. I feel so afraid of these things because I just don’t know how I’ll deal with them. I never had a role model of how the hell to climb back out of our holes and make a safe, decent life again. This makes me feel so afraid and alone and vulnerable.
Which makes me sad. I feel sad that I never got to see my mom make things better again. I feel sad that I never got to see my dad reach out and correct the horrible family life he made for himself. I feel sad that I never got to see my sister fix her problems, either. I feel sad that I KNOW I’ll be challenged in my life, but I have absolutely no self-confidence that I’ll find the courage, strength, and creativity to fix my problems and move on. I feel so sad that my sister, too, desperately needed a role model of change. I feel so sad that my sister felt so hopeless in her problems and circumstances that suicide seemed like the only option. I feel so sad that she fell into that bottomless pit of hopelessness. She never saw anyone fix things once they got bad, so she, too, believed it was impossible to recover once you hit a certain point. I feel so sad that we both always lived our lives on the verge of hopelessness and that once you crossed that line, it was all over. And, for her, it was all over just a month and a half after her 34th birthday.
I feel afraid that I will never have the confidence to tackle the problems that crop up in my life. I feel so afraid that I won’t be able to do any better than my mom (who basically killed herself with her cigarettes) or my sister (who committed suicide). I’m so afraid that I’ll never have the skills to fix my life. I’m so afraid that I will fail. I feel afraid that one day I’ll look up and all my little problems will have grown into a monster that I’m completely incapable of fighting. I feel afraid that I’m going to live the rest of my life afraid of problems that may or may not ever actually happen. I feel afraid that I will let my problems get so out of control that I will end up with no options, no alternatives, other than suicide. And, that alone scares the shit out of me, because I can’t imagine ever actually planning to take my own life. But, yet, I CAN imagine things getting so bad, so hard, so hopeless that I would WANT to give it all up, to end it all.
I feel guilty . . . I feel guilty that I blame my mother for not taking any action. I feel guilty because her inaction allowed me to continue to attend our local schools, which were quite good. I feel guilty because her allowing us to continue to fall behind on the mortgage allowed us a big yard, with our dogs, in a great neighborhood, near our great friends, who were an incredible source of comfort to us when my sister and I were growing up. I feel guilty that had I been making the decisions, the children would have gone to school in the neighboring city which wasn’t as safe, wasn’t as strong academically, wasn’t as good for young kids who have plenty of trouble at home and who need support and opportunities in their neighborhood and school. I feel guilty because I’m angry at her for her decisions, because of all the fear I have now. But, yet, I know in my heart that had we moved, I would have a whole different set of problems. I feel guilty because I know she did the best she could.
I feel exhausted, and I still feel sad. I think I got it all out because nothing new is coming to mind. I’m going on the Limits part of the cycle, so I can begin to climb back up to feeling good:
Are my expectations reasonable? As a child, my expectations that people (at least my mom, my sister, and me) could never recover once their problems got to a certain point were completely reasonable. I never saw my mom fix anything for herself. I never saw anyone “change” themselves or their circumstances. It seemed we were completely at the mercy of our circumstances: whether our car would continue to run, whether dad felt like sending money at time, whether I would sick get again and how sick, whether or not people liked us and were kind to us, whether inflation kicked in or not. If any of these things occurred, our lives would take a turn for the worse and would only improve if our circumstances somehow magically changed themselves. I had no role model for change or growth. I had no role model for thinking creatively or interpreting a problem as a challenge or anything other than a direct threat to our survival. We lived our lives on the edge, blown this way and that by circumstances no one seemed to be able to control. So, yes, my expectations were completely fucking reasonable: if circumstances get really bad, it’s all over and you may as well close up shop and head home cuz there’s nothing you can do about it, buddy.
What is a reasonable expectation now? A reasonable expectation now is that I CAN do something about my circumstances! I can think creatively! I can use my storehouse of resources: energy, money, help from others, and time if I need to make it. I am NOT powerless over my circumstances. I can CREATE a life very far from the edge of hopelessness. I can CHANGE and GROW and CREATE safety for myself. I HATE that line of hopelessness, and I INTEND to get as far away as possible. I will NEVER allow myself to become hopeless! As long as I can think, I can find a solution to whatever problem comes along. I WILL survive, and I will survive well. I will NOT lose hope. I will NOT give up. I will find or create a solution. I can ask for help. This is my adult expectation, and it is reasonable, rational, valid, and CORRECT. I create my own safety. I will NOT be a victim of circumstance any longer. I will NOT fear it; I will NOT cower in its name; I will OVERCOME all circumstance and create the safety I need and want and deserve.
What is the essential pain? The essential pain is that I learned I was helpless over my circumstances. The essential pain is that I had no role models for change or overcoming adversity. The essential pain is that problems will come up that may frighten me and may seem larger than I can handle.
What is the earned reward? The earned reward is that I will use my creativity to overcome and solve my problems. The earned reward is that *I* will be my role model for change and overcoming adversity. I’ve done it before, and I’ll continue to do it! The earned reward is that I will no longer fear the problems that life will throw at me. I will no longer fear falling over the edge into hopelessness. I will no longer be afraid of falling and being unable to get up.
Then, I stay on a roll with the good feelings of power:
I feel grateful . . . I feel grateful that I had my coach to show me the road to change. I feel grateful that I learned how to do this cycle so I could remove this horrible, ugly, old garbage clogging up my heart and soul. I feel so grateful that I have so much more time in my life in which I will be fearless and powerful and strong. I feel so grateful that every day I trust myself more and believe in myself more and feel safer in my own care. I feel grateful to feel this feeling of safety in my own care.
I feel happy . . . I feel happy that I am only 35 (almost 36!), and I have so much more to look forward to in a life free from this fear. I feel so happy that I am stronger today than I was yesterday. I feel so happy to have you to share this all with. I feel happy to have the opportunity to see you learn to feel like this.
I feel secure . . . I feel secure that this trash is out of me, and now all I have to do is tend to the sore spot left by this little surgery. I feel secure that this particular 2+2=5 belief is now powerless over me.
I feel proud . . . I feel proud that I did this cycle today, even though I had to shut my office door and get it done in the middle of the work day. I feel very proud I prioritized myself and my purpose over my day job. I feel very proud that I said, "I’m worth this time, and I’m taking it for myself!" I feel very proud that I opened up to myself like this. I feel very proud that I could trust myself and feel safe enough with myself to let all the garbage come tumbling out without judgment, censorship, denial, or shame. I feel proud of my growth today.