"If you have a secret, people will sit a little bit closer." ROB CORDDRY
By Alex P. Vidal
TRUST remains to be the most important aspect of any meaningful relationship.
"More specifically, it is a mutual condition that must exist between a manager and his subordinates, a husband and wife, and between friends," wrote Dr. Jan Halper, author of Quite Desperation.
Halper warned that a husband who doesn't trust his wife to listen and be supportive will not disclose his personal thoughts and feelings. If he doesn't trust her judgment, he will not confide in her.
"As a result, they will grow apart. A manager who doesn't trust his subordination will not delegate responsibility or authority. Instead he will resort to controlling them," Halper stressed.
"When employees don't feel trusted they are likely to become territorial, derisive, and antagonistically competitive."
SEARCH
In his book Man's Search for Himself, Rollo May discussed the destructive aspects of this attitude:
--this type of individual competitiveness--in which for you to fail in a deal is as good as for me to succeed, since it pushes me ahead in the scramble up the ladder--raises many psychological problems. It makes every man interpersonal hostility and resentment, and increases greatly our anxiety and isolation from each other.
Raised with a competitive spirit, where winning is more important than caring, competition more important than friendship, men search for their opponents' vulnerable points to be used as ammunition in the future, explained Halper.
Halper cited the case of investment banker Anthony Rich, who told him, "I store confidences away to be used at a later date, if it's to my advantage. Any bit of knowledge is fair game to be used against your perceived enemy in order to declare a victory." Although Rich did not admit it, Halper said the implication was there: "It's okay to betray someone you treat as a friend if it means winning or losing."
COMPETITIVENESS
Consequently, this intense competitiveness and desire to win breed fear and distrust between men, according to Halper.
Halper said in general, men are discouraged from "opening their kimono" with one another. They are told to never count on anyone but themselves. Halper found that when he encouraged men to talk with one another about their haunting conflicts and issues, that which was troubling them suddenly seemed less important or disappeared.
"They unburdened themselves of feeling vulnerable by exposing their private side and finding someone who understood them," he pointed out. "Most often the men I interviewed were shocked at how a simple step could alleviate their loneliness and pain and provide clarity and insight."
Although there is some truth to the assertion that men distrust others because they themselves can't be trusted, another important factor comes into play, Harped said.
CONTROL
"Men don't believe they are in control of their feelings, that they choose to feel as they do. Instead they think feelings are something that come over them, that they are made to feel as they do by a mysterious external force," explained Halper. "They attribute the power and ability to others, believing someone else made them feel fear, hurt, happiness, or anger."
Men fear getting close to anyone, women or men, because it's another way they might put themselves on the line, becoming vulnerable, asserted Halper.
"Countless men told me they longed to be close to others, but if it meant feeling out of control, they didn't want anything to do with intimacy," he noted.
Showing posts with label psychology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label psychology. Show all posts
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Monday, November 7, 2011
Jealousy
I didn't mean to hurt you,
I'm sorry that I made you cry,
I didn't want to hurt you,
I'm just a jealous guy,
JOHN LENNON
By Alex P. Vidal
JEALOUSY has been blamed as the No. 1 culprit in the break-up of many relationships--romantic, friendship, business; the collapse of marriages and partnerships, the deaths of those involved in love triangle--and even love rectangle (nowadays because of the power of social networks, this is possible--and is happening)!
Jealousy may be a cultural universal--found everywhere, according to Sex, Dating, and Love: 77 Questions Most Often Asked author, Dr. Ray E. Short.
Jealousy pops up in all kinds of patterns and places. A new dad resents mom's time with a baby.
Sister slugs the second child.
Siblings become rivals.
Spouses and sweethearts grow jealous if their beloveds show the slightest sign of fondness toward a rival--real or imagined.
Anthropologists find jealousy near and far, Short writes in Love, Sex, or Infatuation.
"No society seems to be without it, even those in which more than one spouse is the accepted rule, and those where adultery is fully permitted."
MONSTER
Even those with "open" marriages or live-in arrangements do not escape the green-eyed monster.
"True, there may very well be people who are secure enough within themselves not to be threatened by their spouse's openly having a sex relationship with another person," observes James McCary.
"But, as Gracie Allen used to say, 'There are a lot of people like that, but not many.'"
Very few relationships survive if one party finds out the other has "cheated" on them.
That almost always leads to intense jealousy, distrust, and rupture, explains Short.
Even Nena O'Neil, formerly an ardent advocate of sexually open marriages in her book, has changed her mind. She's found that open marriage has not worked for couples who have tried it, due to jealousy. She now advocates "one sexual partner for the rest of your life."
"So you too may well feel jealous, whether you're in love or infatuated, if the 'object if your affection' shows even the slightest romantic interest in someone else," explains Short. "Jealousy will be especially strong if the couple is having sex with each other."
INSECURE
Some authorities say jealousy is a sign that we are insecure and unsure of ourselves; we have a "low self-image."
Others believe the roots of jealousy go back to childhood dependency when we tried to lay exclusive claim to our mother's love and care.
Some think that groups of two persons lend themselves to a jealous desire to hold on to each other.
"The sensitive union of two is always irritated by the spectator," even if the persons are mature and secure.
Whatever its cause, Shorts believes "the green-eyed monster provides us with the last clue to unlock the puzzle of love and infatuation. This clue is saved for last, not because jealousy is so important in itself. It is not. But its function can best be understood in the light of the two clues that precede it--ego response and overall attitude."
I'm sorry that I made you cry,
I didn't want to hurt you,
I'm just a jealous guy,
JOHN LENNON
JEALOUSY has been blamed as the No. 1 culprit in the break-up of many relationships--romantic, friendship, business; the collapse of marriages and partnerships, the deaths of those involved in love triangle--and even love rectangle (nowadays because of the power of social networks, this is possible--and is happening)!
Jealousy may be a cultural universal--found everywhere, according to Sex, Dating, and Love: 77 Questions Most Often Asked author, Dr. Ray E. Short.
Jealousy pops up in all kinds of patterns and places. A new dad resents mom's time with a baby.
Sister slugs the second child.
Siblings become rivals.
Spouses and sweethearts grow jealous if their beloveds show the slightest sign of fondness toward a rival--real or imagined.
Anthropologists find jealousy near and far, Short writes in Love, Sex, or Infatuation.
"No society seems to be without it, even those in which more than one spouse is the accepted rule, and those where adultery is fully permitted."
MONSTER
Even those with "open" marriages or live-in arrangements do not escape the green-eyed monster.
"True, there may very well be people who are secure enough within themselves not to be threatened by their spouse's openly having a sex relationship with another person," observes James McCary.
"But, as Gracie Allen used to say, 'There are a lot of people like that, but not many.'"
Very few relationships survive if one party finds out the other has "cheated" on them.
That almost always leads to intense jealousy, distrust, and rupture, explains Short.
Even Nena O'Neil, formerly an ardent advocate of sexually open marriages in her book, has changed her mind. She's found that open marriage has not worked for couples who have tried it, due to jealousy. She now advocates "one sexual partner for the rest of your life."
"So you too may well feel jealous, whether you're in love or infatuated, if the 'object if your affection' shows even the slightest romantic interest in someone else," explains Short. "Jealousy will be especially strong if the couple is having sex with each other."
INSECURE
Some authorities say jealousy is a sign that we are insecure and unsure of ourselves; we have a "low self-image."
Others believe the roots of jealousy go back to childhood dependency when we tried to lay exclusive claim to our mother's love and care.
Some think that groups of two persons lend themselves to a jealous desire to hold on to each other.
"The sensitive union of two is always irritated by the spectator," even if the persons are mature and secure.
Whatever its cause, Shorts believes "the green-eyed monster provides us with the last clue to unlock the puzzle of love and infatuation. This clue is saved for last, not because jealousy is so important in itself. It is not. But its function can best be understood in the light of the two clues that precede it--ego response and overall attitude."
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Believe in Miracles
"Every moment in our lives is a miracle we should enjoy instead of ignoring." Yoko Ono
By Alex P. Vidal
THE doctor tried to break the news as gently as possible.
"You know how when you're little and you ask for a pony, you pray and hope for it and you never get it? Well, this is that same type of situation. Sometimes you don't get the pony."
The doctor was trying to tell Chris Wood's parents that the situation was hopeless, even beyond their prayers.
Chris was 21 and stationed in the navy in San Diego that June of 1989.
After an afternoon drinking at a Padres game, he fell out of a pickup truck on the way home when the driver switched lanes.
After an afternoon drinking at a Padres game, he fell out of a pickup truck on the way home when the driver switched lanes.
After Chris landed on the four-lane highway, a car hit him.
He bounced into another lane and was hit by another car. Luckily, the next vehicle to come along was an ambulance. Chris had a broken pelvis, jaw, elbow, and knee.
He had massive head injuries and tire marks across his back.
He bounced into another lane and was hit by another car. Luckily, the next vehicle to come along was an ambulance. Chris had a broken pelvis, jaw, elbow, and knee.
He had massive head injuries and tire marks across his back.
For the next three months all the news on Chris from the doctors was bad news. "He will not live...he will be a vegetable...he will never walk...he will never have a meaningful life."
PRAYER
His family back in Akron started prayer chains. One night his sister was awakened suddenly.
She says it was God who whispered to her these words: "He will live and not die and proclaim the mercies of God."
She says it was God who whispered to her these words: "He will live and not die and proclaim the mercies of God."
From then on, that was the family's mantra.
It got Chris through 32 surgeries, a three-month coma, and years of treatment at the Veterans Hospital in Cleveland where he goes for rehabilitation.
At 29, Chris had the same bright blue eyes and sandy hair as before, but everything else had changed.
At 29, Chris had the same bright blue eyes and sandy hair as before, but everything else had changed.
His speech is slurred, as if he's been drinking. The breathing tube damaged his vocal cords.
The head injuries slowed his thinking. His face turned crooked from his jaw healing incorrectly.
A purple zipper scar runs up his left arm, which dangles at his side. He must concentrate to be able to open his hand.
The head injuries slowed his thinking. His face turned crooked from his jaw healing incorrectly.
A purple zipper scar runs up his left arm, which dangles at his side. He must concentrate to be able to open his hand.
HARDWARE
Chris is a walking hardware store. There's a crew in his elbow, a brace on his leg, a hinge in his knee, and a plate in his head.
His brain no longer works the same. He used to excel at math but now struggles with the basics.
When he enrolled at Kent State University six years ago, he got D's and F's even in the simplest classes.
One of his rehab workers urged him to drop out.
His brain no longer works the same. He used to excel at math but now struggles with the basics.
When he enrolled at Kent State University six years ago, he got D's and F's even in the simplest classes.
One of his rehab workers urged him to drop out.
He gave it some thought. "My mind would say, You're wasting your time," he told me.
But instead of listening, he would turn to his favorite Scripture passage, Proverbs 23:7: "For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he."
But instead of listening, he would turn to his favorite Scripture passage, Proverbs 23:7: "For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he."
"It means what you believe is what you're going to be. If you think you are second and a failure or number one and front of the line, that's what you will be," he said.
He credits his mother for his successes. Linda coached him along using the Bible as her playbook.
Chris now has three jobs: he interns at Edwin Shaw Hospital working with head injury patients; he does computer design work for Living Water Fellowship Church in Akron; and he is an usher for the Akron Aeros baseball team.
Chris now has three jobs: he interns at Edwin Shaw Hospital working with head injury patients; he does computer design work for Living Water Fellowship Church in Akron; and he is an usher for the Akron Aeros baseball team.
LICENSE
It took three tries to pass his driver's test, but he finally got his license.
It took six years of therapy, but he put away his wheelchair and can now move with a walker.
It took six years of therapy, but he put away his wheelchair and can now move with a walker.
He still struggles to come up with the right words when he talks.
He pauses, squints hard, trying to force his brain to remember how to work.
He pauses, squints hard, trying to force his brain to remember how to work.
It works fine enough. On graduation day, Chris Wood gave a commencement address without saying a word.
He walked across a stage at Kent State University and picked up his bachelor of arts in psychology to a standing ovation.
He walked across a stage at Kent State University and picked up his bachelor of arts in psychology to a standing ovation.
He wasn't the smartest one there.
He wasn't the most talented one there.
But he was there.
His mother never lived to see it. She had died the previous June of a heart attack.
But she lived long enough to know that the doctor who said it was too hopeless to even pray was wrong.
But she lived long enough to know that the doctor who said it was too hopeless to even pray was wrong.
The doctor got a postcard from Chris's dad letting him know how it all turned out.
It simply said, "We got the pony."
(Lesson 33 of "God Never Blinks" by Regina Brett)
Thursday, October 6, 2011
The most important sex organ is the brain
"When it comes to sex, the most important erogenous zone is between your right ear and your left ear."
By Alex P. Vidal
THIS is the second "lesson" from God Never Blinks, a compilation of essays written by Regina Brett, a veteran journalist and a breast cancer survivor.
When she turned 50, she reflected on all she had learned through becoming a single parent, looking for love in all the wrong places, working on her relationship with God, battling cancer, and making peace with a difficult childhood.
Then she wrote a column for the Cleveland Plain Dealer on the 50 lessons life had taught her.
It became one of the most popular articles the paper ever published, crisscrossing the globe via e-mail to hundreds of thousands of people, and shared at weddings, graduations, Sunday schools, Bar Mitzvahs, anniversaries, and more.
Now Brett expands the 50 lessons into essays that are inspiring, deeply personal, sometimes funny, and often poignant. They're sure to strike a cord with anyone who has ever gone through tough times--and is there anyone who hasn't?
ESSAY
Let's hear from Brett in her essay, "The Most Important Sex Organ Is the Brain."
My friend Sheryl wanted me to meet her friend.
I don't do fix ups, I told her.
It's just a party, she said.
She didn't tell me much about the guy. He had a beard, he was divorced, he was in public relations. That's it.
Had she told me more, that he smoked, that he was an agnostic who loved jazz and sushi and big city life, that he was a Virgo who was never home, I would have never given him a chance.
I was a nonsmoking Catholic vegetarian Gemini who loved country music and small towns and nesting most nights. On paper, we were no match.
At the last minute, I decided to go to that party back in 1992.
Sheryl introduced me to Bruce and we never stopped talking. We sat on the couch for hours.
He loved his work and was passionate about making a difference in the world.
He had beautiful warm brown eyes that made me feel safe, yet they were alive with excitement. There was something going on behind those eyes.
He called the next day and we talked for three hours. I learned that he sang in the shower and cried at movies.
But I was cautious. I had given up on men for a while, stayed celibate for almost two years.
After a few years of intense counseling to deal with childhood issues, I wanted to break the pattern of attracting unavailable men who struggled with intimacy and commitment.
I wanted someone to love me, to want me for the long haul.
Like every wounded woman, I wanted someone who would never hurt me, never let me down, never reject or abandon me.
It was an impossible order.
FIRST DATE
I didn't know what to do with Bruce, so on our first real date, I gave him three choices: we could see a movie, go out for dinner, or drive to the town he grew up in and do a tour of his homes, school, and points of interest so I could learn more about him.
He turned the tables on me and suggested we do the tour in my hometown.
We drove around Ravenna, population 12,000.
We drove past my grade school, junior high, high school, places I worked, my old home, and my church.
We ended up at the cemetery where my grandparents are buried.
We sat in the car watching a fingernail clipping of a moon rise over the scarlet sky and naked trees.
He declared that moment with me was as good as sex.
This man was certainly different from anyone I'd been with.
Later that night, we ended up at a restaurant talking about what we were looking for.
Would he ever marry again? Would I ever marry at all? We agreed on one thing: if we did, we would choose not a husband and wife, but a life partner, a best friend.
That night I started to trust loving a man. Bruce was bright, funny, and honest.
I learned he was Jewish but loves to sing Christmas carols outside cafes in December.
That he gives the Little Rascals high sign to kids, has tons of books in his living room, and would quit smoking for the right person.
WAVY HAIR
He loved my wild wavy hair, my skinny nose, my hands, my feckles. He showed me pictures of his mom, grandma, sons, and siblings.
He even took out his cell phone, turned it off, and said, "I never do this."
He mailed me a cassette tape of romance and jazz on one side and his favorite Christmas songs on the other.
He said he sent it to seduce me. It worked.
All his words and acts of kindness made me feel safe. He acted like a child, so happy to see me.
He held my hand and we sat talking on the couch for hours.
He was like having a sleepover with a best friend. Bruce became my buddy.
We didn't have sex until we had The Talk. His idea, not mine. One night we sat up all night on the couch talking.
He wanted to know about my past relationships, all the detours and broken roads that led me to him. He'd been married for 15 years, divorced for two.
I had never lasted more than a year with the same guy.
Lots of dad issues, lots of men who resembled my dad and brought their mother issues. Not a good combination.
Bruce joked that he liked a woman with a past. We laughed but we also cried as I talked and he listened to the challenge of loving me.
There was still so much healing to be done. In my entire life, I'd never felt completely emotionally and physically safe with a man.
I was barely aware of my own intimacy needs. I grew up believing that a woman performed for a man and if she got something out of it, fine, but if not, it didn't matter.
Bruce encouraged me to speak up about everything, to say what I liked and didn't.
I didn't know what I liked or wanted in a relationship because I never got the chance to figure it out.
Most people emerge into a sexual being. When you are abused sexually as a child or raped as a teenager as I was, your sexual identity is stolen.
You don't get to gradually come of age. When someone else's sexuality is forced on you, it stunts your own growth.
I spent my adult life trying to please a man by doing all the things I guessed he wanted, but didn't have a clue as to what made me feel good.
KEY
Bruce wouldn't have that. He told me the key to our relationship was building and keeping a friendship, that sex wouldn't make or break a relationship.
He taught me a great eternal truth: friendship comes first.
That is the soul of the relationship, he said.
Before I met Bruce, a girlfriend in recovery had shared how she created new ways to relate to men by using the "Big Book" of Alcoholics Anonymous. The writers of it must have had a sense of humor, because the sex advice starts on page 69.
The book advises one to take a personal inventory, to look at resentments and fears, but also at one's sex life, what worked and what didn't.
Then create a sane and sound ideal between you and God about what is right for you alone.
I need to trust God with my sexuality. I had to look at sex as a gift that springs from a God who made me with desires and longings and passions.
I needed to know and believe that God was creative enough to design men who would not abuse or abandon me in a relationship.
LARGER
Sex had to be part of a larger, whole relationship. This time, it was.
Before we ever got to "home plate" we sat and talked for hours.
At one point, Bruce pointed to his head and said, "Sex is up here."
It's not about performing for each other. It's not your job to please anyone.
"Not that much of sex is about having an orgasm," he said. "That's the icing. All the other ingredients make up the cake. Let's make the cake."
So we did. A decade later, we're still having a great time baking.
Our sex life has never been dependent on our bodies alone. Good thing, because age comes along and changes them.
In my case, cancer did. After I lost my breasts to cancer, it took a while to feel sexy again.
Bruce kept telling me it would just take a little time for my brain to rewire itself. He was right.
When it comes to sex, the most important erogenous zone is between your right ear and your left ear.
By Alex P. Vidal
THIS is the second "lesson" from God Never Blinks, a compilation of essays written by Regina Brett, a veteran journalist and a breast cancer survivor.
When she turned 50, she reflected on all she had learned through becoming a single parent, looking for love in all the wrong places, working on her relationship with God, battling cancer, and making peace with a difficult childhood.
Then she wrote a column for the Cleveland Plain Dealer on the 50 lessons life had taught her.
It became one of the most popular articles the paper ever published, crisscrossing the globe via e-mail to hundreds of thousands of people, and shared at weddings, graduations, Sunday schools, Bar Mitzvahs, anniversaries, and more.
Now Brett expands the 50 lessons into essays that are inspiring, deeply personal, sometimes funny, and often poignant. They're sure to strike a cord with anyone who has ever gone through tough times--and is there anyone who hasn't?
ESSAY
Let's hear from Brett in her essay, "The Most Important Sex Organ Is the Brain."
My friend Sheryl wanted me to meet her friend.
I don't do fix ups, I told her.
It's just a party, she said.
She didn't tell me much about the guy. He had a beard, he was divorced, he was in public relations. That's it.
Had she told me more, that he smoked, that he was an agnostic who loved jazz and sushi and big city life, that he was a Virgo who was never home, I would have never given him a chance.
I was a nonsmoking Catholic vegetarian Gemini who loved country music and small towns and nesting most nights. On paper, we were no match.
At the last minute, I decided to go to that party back in 1992.
Sheryl introduced me to Bruce and we never stopped talking. We sat on the couch for hours.
He loved his work and was passionate about making a difference in the world.
He had beautiful warm brown eyes that made me feel safe, yet they were alive with excitement. There was something going on behind those eyes.
He called the next day and we talked for three hours. I learned that he sang in the shower and cried at movies.
But I was cautious. I had given up on men for a while, stayed celibate for almost two years.
After a few years of intense counseling to deal with childhood issues, I wanted to break the pattern of attracting unavailable men who struggled with intimacy and commitment.
I wanted someone to love me, to want me for the long haul.
Like every wounded woman, I wanted someone who would never hurt me, never let me down, never reject or abandon me.
It was an impossible order.
FIRST DATE
I didn't know what to do with Bruce, so on our first real date, I gave him three choices: we could see a movie, go out for dinner, or drive to the town he grew up in and do a tour of his homes, school, and points of interest so I could learn more about him.
He turned the tables on me and suggested we do the tour in my hometown.
We drove around Ravenna, population 12,000.
We drove past my grade school, junior high, high school, places I worked, my old home, and my church.
We ended up at the cemetery where my grandparents are buried.
We sat in the car watching a fingernail clipping of a moon rise over the scarlet sky and naked trees.
He declared that moment with me was as good as sex.
This man was certainly different from anyone I'd been with.
Later that night, we ended up at a restaurant talking about what we were looking for.
Would he ever marry again? Would I ever marry at all? We agreed on one thing: if we did, we would choose not a husband and wife, but a life partner, a best friend.
That night I started to trust loving a man. Bruce was bright, funny, and honest.
I learned he was Jewish but loves to sing Christmas carols outside cafes in December.
That he gives the Little Rascals high sign to kids, has tons of books in his living room, and would quit smoking for the right person.
WAVY HAIR
He loved my wild wavy hair, my skinny nose, my hands, my feckles. He showed me pictures of his mom, grandma, sons, and siblings.
He even took out his cell phone, turned it off, and said, "I never do this."
He mailed me a cassette tape of romance and jazz on one side and his favorite Christmas songs on the other.
He said he sent it to seduce me. It worked.
All his words and acts of kindness made me feel safe. He acted like a child, so happy to see me.
He held my hand and we sat talking on the couch for hours.
He was like having a sleepover with a best friend. Bruce became my buddy.
We didn't have sex until we had The Talk. His idea, not mine. One night we sat up all night on the couch talking.
He wanted to know about my past relationships, all the detours and broken roads that led me to him. He'd been married for 15 years, divorced for two.
I had never lasted more than a year with the same guy.
Lots of dad issues, lots of men who resembled my dad and brought their mother issues. Not a good combination.
Bruce joked that he liked a woman with a past. We laughed but we also cried as I talked and he listened to the challenge of loving me.
There was still so much healing to be done. In my entire life, I'd never felt completely emotionally and physically safe with a man.
I was barely aware of my own intimacy needs. I grew up believing that a woman performed for a man and if she got something out of it, fine, but if not, it didn't matter.
Bruce encouraged me to speak up about everything, to say what I liked and didn't.
I didn't know what I liked or wanted in a relationship because I never got the chance to figure it out.
Most people emerge into a sexual being. When you are abused sexually as a child or raped as a teenager as I was, your sexual identity is stolen.
You don't get to gradually come of age. When someone else's sexuality is forced on you, it stunts your own growth.
I spent my adult life trying to please a man by doing all the things I guessed he wanted, but didn't have a clue as to what made me feel good.
KEY
Bruce wouldn't have that. He told me the key to our relationship was building and keeping a friendship, that sex wouldn't make or break a relationship.
He taught me a great eternal truth: friendship comes first.
That is the soul of the relationship, he said.
Before I met Bruce, a girlfriend in recovery had shared how she created new ways to relate to men by using the "Big Book" of Alcoholics Anonymous. The writers of it must have had a sense of humor, because the sex advice starts on page 69.
The book advises one to take a personal inventory, to look at resentments and fears, but also at one's sex life, what worked and what didn't.
Then create a sane and sound ideal between you and God about what is right for you alone.
I need to trust God with my sexuality. I had to look at sex as a gift that springs from a God who made me with desires and longings and passions.
I needed to know and believe that God was creative enough to design men who would not abuse or abandon me in a relationship.
LARGER
Sex had to be part of a larger, whole relationship. This time, it was.
Before we ever got to "home plate" we sat and talked for hours.
At one point, Bruce pointed to his head and said, "Sex is up here."
It's not about performing for each other. It's not your job to please anyone.
"Not that much of sex is about having an orgasm," he said. "That's the icing. All the other ingredients make up the cake. Let's make the cake."
So we did. A decade later, we're still having a great time baking.
Our sex life has never been dependent on our bodies alone. Good thing, because age comes along and changes them.
In my case, cancer did. After I lost my breasts to cancer, it took a while to feel sexy again.
Bruce kept telling me it would just take a little time for my brain to rewire itself. He was right.
When it comes to sex, the most important erogenous zone is between your right ear and your left ear.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Make peace with your past so it doesn't screw up the present
"A noise. A smell. A comment. Something so small sends you back into your own personal darkness, fear, and despair."
By Alex P. Vidal
REGINA Brett is a veteran journalist and a former breast cancer patient.
When she turned 50, she reflected on all she had learned through becoming a single parent, looking for love in all the wrong places, working on her relationship with God, battling cancer, and making peace with a difficult childhood.
Then she wrote a column for the Cleveland Plain Dealer on the 50 lessons life had taught her.
It became one of the most popular articles the paper ever published, crisscrossing the globe via e-mail to hundreds of thousands of people, and shared at weddings, graduations, Sunday schools, Bar Mitzvahs, anniversaries, and more.
Now Brett expands the 50 lessons into essays that are inspiring, deeply personal, sometimes funny, and often poignant.
They're sure to strike a cord with anyone who has ever gone through tough times--and is there anyone who hasn't?
Let's hear from Brett in her essay, "Make Peace with Your Past So It Doesn't Screw Up the Present."
Ever have one of those days where everything is fine and then suddenly it isn't?
Nothing on the outside has changed, but everything inside you just did. Something you can't name happened, and suddenly, you find yourself at the bottom of a hole deep inside yourself.
It's hard to figure out what sent you spiraling down. A noise. A smell. A comment. Something so small sends you back into your own personal darkness, fear, and despair.
It happens so fast, you don't know how you got there. Or sometimes you can feel yourself falling in slow motion but you can't stop it.
What sets it off? It's different for everybody, especially those who have suffered child abuse or neglect in some form or another.
For me, something as small as the smell of chalk and milk cartons will do it. The sight of tiny folding chairs like those we had in the first grade. The sound of a weeping child in a store. The sight of an angry parent dragging a toddler across a parking lot. The sound of flesh hitting flesh in a violent movie.
Some days, any one of those sends me into the hole. All at once, I feel scared and lonely and disconnected. I call them attacks of childhood. In a flesh, I'm suddenly not a full-functioning adult. I'm powerless and scared and can't figure out why.
One therapist who used to counsel Vietnam veterans told me that adults who suffered abuse and neglect as children can have post-traumatic stress.
Childhood injuries remain with us for years. Like shrapnel, the pieces keep working their way out of the body.
CLIMB OUT
It used to take me days to climb out of the hole. Meanwhile, I'd go to work, fix dinner, play with my child, try to function, but inside it felt like I was on the verge of an emotional breakdown.
If someone pulled one more string, I'd unravel in puddle of yarn and no longer be whole.
We all have childhood holes. Most people have a few here and there that are small enough to avoid and easy to get out of quickly.
Others have a lunar landscape of deep craters left behind from mentally ill relatives or teachers, encounters with domestic violence and sexual abuse, or beatings and rages by parents who were also once children who were abused or neglected by someone else.
Big things rarely push you in the hole. Big things you can see coming and avoid. If you see or hear a train coming, you step off the tracks and stay out of the way.
It's the small things that knock you down the hole. Things you don't see coming until you look in the rearview mirror.
One day I pulled my car into the garage as I do every day. My husband was standing in the driveway and told me to move my car up an inch. So I did. It still wasn't good enough for him. No, a little more, he insisted.
I could have easily smiled and moved it up or left it alone or handed him the keys to park it perfectly. Instead, I felt an instant rage come over me, like he'd lit a short fuse to a huge bomb. KABOOM!
I was blasted back to childhood. Why do I have to be perfect? Why am I never good enough? Why do I even bother?
But instead of exploding, I usually implode. Instead of yelling and raging, I cave in and cry. They're old tears.
I can feel them come from a different place in me. My face hurts, my sinuses ache, and afterward, I need to sleep.
INCIDENT
The incident with the car? Hours later, I was able to trace it back in time to the exact moment it triggered, decades earlier when I was 21.
I'm standing in my parents' driveway and my dad wants me to help him put a TV in the back of his station wagon.
It's heavy and awkward and I'm not sure how he expects me to carry it and squeeze it into the small spot he pointed to.
I grab my half of the TV and slide it in the car. He tells me to move it back. Back where? I don't know what he wants. He screams at me. My dad was either quiet or screaming.
I don't know why, but he'd go from zero to 100 in a flash. His rages were almost always accompanied by these words: "What the hell's wrong with you? Can't you do anything right?"
Standing there in the driveway holding the TV, he screamed them. I couldn't drop it and leave so I was stuck standing there as a target for his anger.
There was never an apology, never an acknowledgment that he was having a bad day or a bad moment.
Over time I learned how to get unstuck. First, you have to recognize that you're stuck.
For me here's my warning sign: whenever my emotions don't match what just happened, it's about my childhood.
I've learned to freeze the moment, just like you would pause a movie, and ask: Wait. Is this reaction about the present moment? Or is it about the past? I can't change the past.
But by changing my response to its leftovers, I can change the present.
One counselor helped me avoid falling in the hole by using this technique. Get an index card. Jot down proof that you are a functioning adult.
Write down your age, education level, degrees, job title, the fact that you can drive a car, parent, vote, and others things adult do.
When you find yourself teetering over a hole, take out the card and read it. Get grounded in today, in the adult you are, not the kid you were. It helps you regain your footing.
On the other side of the card, write down your search and rescue team. List your 911 friends to call to help you get out of the hole.
Choose people in your inner circle, people who love you the most, as is. People who aren't afraid to search in the dark for you, people who can yank you back into the light.
REWIRE
It takes work to rewire your thoughts about yourself, but when you do, everything in your life changes for the better -- especially your most intimate relationships.
If you don't do the hard work, you will constantly bump into your past and run into the worst of your mom and dad in every relationship.
Rewiring your thoughts won't get rid of the holes in life, but it can prevent you from falling in them.
My friends in recovery told me this story:
A drunk leaves the bar one night and on his way home stumbles and falls into a deep hole in the road. He can't get out. One passerby tosses him a Bible, cites a Scripture passage to give him hope, and leaves.
A counselor stops and tries to help him figure out why he fell in the hole. Finally, a recovering alcoholic hears the screams and stops. "Can you help, please?" the man in the hole cries. "Sure," the sober man says. He jumps into the hole. The alcoholic screams. "Oh, no, now we're both stuck in this hole!" The sober man smiles and says, "Don't worry. I've been here before. I know my way out. We climb out together."
The goal isn't to walk around the hole. Or get out quicker. The goal is to fill the hole so no one else falls in it. What do you fill it with? God. Which is to say, love: love of self, love of others, love of God.
The last time I climbed out of the "I'm not enough" hole, I prayed, "How will I ever believe that I'm good enough?"
The answer came in that small still voice from my heart: "By helping others believe that they are good enough."
By Alex P. Vidal
REGINA Brett is a veteran journalist and a former breast cancer patient.
When she turned 50, she reflected on all she had learned through becoming a single parent, looking for love in all the wrong places, working on her relationship with God, battling cancer, and making peace with a difficult childhood.
Then she wrote a column for the Cleveland Plain Dealer on the 50 lessons life had taught her.
It became one of the most popular articles the paper ever published, crisscrossing the globe via e-mail to hundreds of thousands of people, and shared at weddings, graduations, Sunday schools, Bar Mitzvahs, anniversaries, and more.
Now Brett expands the 50 lessons into essays that are inspiring, deeply personal, sometimes funny, and often poignant.
They're sure to strike a cord with anyone who has ever gone through tough times--and is there anyone who hasn't?
Let's hear from Brett in her essay, "Make Peace with Your Past So It Doesn't Screw Up the Present."
Ever have one of those days where everything is fine and then suddenly it isn't?
Nothing on the outside has changed, but everything inside you just did. Something you can't name happened, and suddenly, you find yourself at the bottom of a hole deep inside yourself.
It's hard to figure out what sent you spiraling down. A noise. A smell. A comment. Something so small sends you back into your own personal darkness, fear, and despair.
It happens so fast, you don't know how you got there. Or sometimes you can feel yourself falling in slow motion but you can't stop it.
What sets it off? It's different for everybody, especially those who have suffered child abuse or neglect in some form or another.
For me, something as small as the smell of chalk and milk cartons will do it. The sight of tiny folding chairs like those we had in the first grade. The sound of a weeping child in a store. The sight of an angry parent dragging a toddler across a parking lot. The sound of flesh hitting flesh in a violent movie.
Some days, any one of those sends me into the hole. All at once, I feel scared and lonely and disconnected. I call them attacks of childhood. In a flesh, I'm suddenly not a full-functioning adult. I'm powerless and scared and can't figure out why.
One therapist who used to counsel Vietnam veterans told me that adults who suffered abuse and neglect as children can have post-traumatic stress.
Childhood injuries remain with us for years. Like shrapnel, the pieces keep working their way out of the body.
CLIMB OUT
It used to take me days to climb out of the hole. Meanwhile, I'd go to work, fix dinner, play with my child, try to function, but inside it felt like I was on the verge of an emotional breakdown.
If someone pulled one more string, I'd unravel in puddle of yarn and no longer be whole.
We all have childhood holes. Most people have a few here and there that are small enough to avoid and easy to get out of quickly.
Others have a lunar landscape of deep craters left behind from mentally ill relatives or teachers, encounters with domestic violence and sexual abuse, or beatings and rages by parents who were also once children who were abused or neglected by someone else.
Big things rarely push you in the hole. Big things you can see coming and avoid. If you see or hear a train coming, you step off the tracks and stay out of the way.
It's the small things that knock you down the hole. Things you don't see coming until you look in the rearview mirror.
One day I pulled my car into the garage as I do every day. My husband was standing in the driveway and told me to move my car up an inch. So I did. It still wasn't good enough for him. No, a little more, he insisted.
I could have easily smiled and moved it up or left it alone or handed him the keys to park it perfectly. Instead, I felt an instant rage come over me, like he'd lit a short fuse to a huge bomb. KABOOM!
I was blasted back to childhood. Why do I have to be perfect? Why am I never good enough? Why do I even bother?
But instead of exploding, I usually implode. Instead of yelling and raging, I cave in and cry. They're old tears.
I can feel them come from a different place in me. My face hurts, my sinuses ache, and afterward, I need to sleep.
INCIDENT
The incident with the car? Hours later, I was able to trace it back in time to the exact moment it triggered, decades earlier when I was 21.
I'm standing in my parents' driveway and my dad wants me to help him put a TV in the back of his station wagon.
It's heavy and awkward and I'm not sure how he expects me to carry it and squeeze it into the small spot he pointed to.
I grab my half of the TV and slide it in the car. He tells me to move it back. Back where? I don't know what he wants. He screams at me. My dad was either quiet or screaming.
I don't know why, but he'd go from zero to 100 in a flash. His rages were almost always accompanied by these words: "What the hell's wrong with you? Can't you do anything right?"
Standing there in the driveway holding the TV, he screamed them. I couldn't drop it and leave so I was stuck standing there as a target for his anger.
There was never an apology, never an acknowledgment that he was having a bad day or a bad moment.
Over time I learned how to get unstuck. First, you have to recognize that you're stuck.
For me here's my warning sign: whenever my emotions don't match what just happened, it's about my childhood.
I've learned to freeze the moment, just like you would pause a movie, and ask: Wait. Is this reaction about the present moment? Or is it about the past? I can't change the past.
But by changing my response to its leftovers, I can change the present.
One counselor helped me avoid falling in the hole by using this technique. Get an index card. Jot down proof that you are a functioning adult.
Write down your age, education level, degrees, job title, the fact that you can drive a car, parent, vote, and others things adult do.
When you find yourself teetering over a hole, take out the card and read it. Get grounded in today, in the adult you are, not the kid you were. It helps you regain your footing.
On the other side of the card, write down your search and rescue team. List your 911 friends to call to help you get out of the hole.
Choose people in your inner circle, people who love you the most, as is. People who aren't afraid to search in the dark for you, people who can yank you back into the light.
REWIRE
It takes work to rewire your thoughts about yourself, but when you do, everything in your life changes for the better -- especially your most intimate relationships.
If you don't do the hard work, you will constantly bump into your past and run into the worst of your mom and dad in every relationship.
Rewiring your thoughts won't get rid of the holes in life, but it can prevent you from falling in them.
My friends in recovery told me this story:
A drunk leaves the bar one night and on his way home stumbles and falls into a deep hole in the road. He can't get out. One passerby tosses him a Bible, cites a Scripture passage to give him hope, and leaves.
A counselor stops and tries to help him figure out why he fell in the hole. Finally, a recovering alcoholic hears the screams and stops. "Can you help, please?" the man in the hole cries. "Sure," the sober man says. He jumps into the hole. The alcoholic screams. "Oh, no, now we're both stuck in this hole!" The sober man smiles and says, "Don't worry. I've been here before. I know my way out. We climb out together."
The goal isn't to walk around the hole. Or get out quicker. The goal is to fill the hole so no one else falls in it. What do you fill it with? God. Which is to say, love: love of self, love of others, love of God.
The last time I climbed out of the "I'm not enough" hole, I prayed, "How will I ever believe that I'm good enough?"
The answer came in that small still voice from my heart: "By helping others believe that they are good enough."
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