We are Challenged

 

Sit Anyway

 

We can often take for granted sitting comfortably… in a chair, on a couch, in any station we find ourselves in concerning this life. Sometimes, yes, everything is clicking just right. It is a perfect fit.

Kismet. Fate. Divine Plan.

Still, within our daily lives, often we are uncomfortably seated.

Felines love boxes; they love sitting in boxes. And not just the domestic Tabby Cat, either.

I have seen big cats- leopards, lions, and tigers enjoying a cardboard box, seeing its presence as an invitation to sit in it.

Easier said than done, however, for Big Kitty. I’m sure you’ve seen some of the adorable and humorous images online. Many a creature, large or small, has overestimated the cardboard box’s ability to contain their bodies effectively. The box is usually squashed. And often, this is the caption that follows…

“If I fits, I sits.”

Awwwwh.

Yet, if you and I engage in sitting situations, like these fuzzy creatures, it seems to be, or, at least, feels, less adorable. The experience we have is awkward, ill-fitting, humiliating, or chaotic. It goes beyond just a squashed cardboard box. Yet, despite its unpleasantness, much of it seems inevitable, unavoidable. We cannot escape it.

What can we do about it?

“If I fits, I sits.”

But we don’t fit. One way or another, we don’t. There are numerous, unique ways this shows up for us. And maybe it can be better addressed by a theory on answered prayer; the Divine answers our prayers one of three ways:

Yes.

Not yet.

I have something better for you.

Let’s just explore that possibility a bit.

When “If I fits, I sits” is a fail for us, it probably speaks to the educational process of living ill-fitting. Such as…

When we haven’t quite grown into something…

“If I fits, I sits.”

The problem here isn’t that we crushed some proverbial cardboard box because we’re too big for it. We haven’t grown into its space. There’s extra room all alongside of us. If we tried to wear it as clothing (as certain avant-garde fashion designers have insisted on in many of their runway shows), it’d probably fall off.

We want something. We need something. We desire something. We aspire to or strive towards something. And, the first prayer answer option, “yes,” hasn’t popped up for us.

Now, it seems, we are in the realm of option two, “not yet.”

You can hear the bloodcurdling, frustrated screams, can’t you?

Being told to wait. Being in limbo. Being put off.

It feels like there are hurdles and obstacles, roadblocks, all while feeling that “not yet” is simply a cop out. Just code for “no, and I don’t want to deal with you further, so I’ll just leave you hanging.”

That’s fun. That’s enjoyable.

So, what are we supposed to do? Well, what if we consider the felines’ perspective?

“If I fits, I sits.”

Translation?

Sit anyway.

I know. It’s uncomfortable, embarrassing, even.

You and I feel stupid, like gluttons for punishment. We do not want to be here. Between sitting in this ill-fitting situation and standing, with some modicum of dignity, it seems we’d rather stand, right?

But there is beauty, meaning, significance, and answers in staying put. There’s a bigger picture to us staying put concerning a situation in which we feel way out of our depth. Overwhelmed. Ill-equipped. On hold.

However, just look what is happening, just look at what is being developed during all of this waiting!

We are becoming who we are supposed to be, altered versions of the pre-sit experience. “Not yet” is where we discover. Discovery doesn’t always equal fun, but it informs us in a way nothing else can. Make the mistake. Flub. Have a crisis. Flail. Look like an imbecile. It’s temporary. I give you some advice from Sir Winston Churchill…

“Success is never final, and failure is never fatal; it is the courage to continue that counts.”

The courage is found in sitting in the “not yet.”

“If I fits, I sits.”

Need more? Well, Winston gets no-nonsense blunt about it…

“If you're going through hell, keep going.”

That only happens if you and I are like the felines, who, despite not achieving the perfect fit, decide they are sitting, nonetheless.

“If I fits, I sits.”

And then, you and I need to decide for ourselves what value can be gleaned from this uncomfortably seated situation. There is value. It’s not fun. But the proverbial cardboard box didn’t promise us it would be fun. It is just there. We take it up on its offer of being there… and go from there to a different place.

And no, we don’t know what that place will be. But it is there for us. Just not yet.

Can we stayed seated and develop, in the meantime, understanding that?

When we have outgrown something…

We feel the winds of change. Something is different. Something is scary. Something is life-altering. Like many of the feline images of cats trying to reside in a too-small box, we sense we no longer fit a situation.

“If I fits, I sits.”

This is, by no means, about us remaining in something that no longer fits us. Rather, it’s about possessing the awareness, instead of fighting it, that we have outgrown something in our lives. Before we take any kind of healthy and beneficial action, we must, first, be aware that our lives need to change. No small thing. It’s an intimidating cardboard box to behold.

Sometimes, we need to become so uncomfortable, be in so much pain, by resisting the pain that persists, that the fear takes a backseat to the agony of having outgrown something. Growing pains. They don’t call them “Growing Pleasures,” now, do they?

Wherever we are in this seating arrangement, each of us needs to decide for ourselves the question of how much is enough. How much is too much? Some of us have ridiculous thresholds of pain. Some of us can tolerate a lot of abuse, disorder, and dysfunction.

But there is a saturation point. Sooner or later, each of us reaches the awareness of what that is.

Sitting in this circumstance, we, again, are often in “not yet” territory when it comes to any answered prayer or yearning.

“If I fits, I sits.”

Sit anyway.

Okay, so maybe we’re not moving now.

Maybe we feel paralyzed, stranded, confused. Maybe it’s stagnant right now.

But this feeling is not without its own merit. We need to remember this paralyzed, stagnant, stuck feeling; use it as fuel to not remain the limitation of who we were. We are in the process of becoming; we are constantly changing. We need look no further than our high school yearbook photos. We are not now who we were then. Thankfully. Because some of those hairstyles were atrocious!

But seriously, look at yourself, say, fifteen years ago. See any differences? Of course, you do! That was a different age and stage and time than where you are now. You changed. And you’ll do it again.

We all need to reassure ourselves of that.

So, in the meantime…

“If I fits, I sits.”

Sit anyway.

And know the unfolding plan and change will reveal itself.

Be “Big cat in a tiny box” confident of that.

When we have been told/we believe we shouldn’t have something…

Here is where we, perhaps, finally get to the third answered prayer option: “I have something better for you.”

Yes, we may be waiting in “not yet” limbo, but this core belief, kicking around in many of us, can threaten to defeat us, all because we assert, somehow, we do not deserve something good, healthy, or loving. We can be completely unconscious we are operating from this perspective too. It’s subtle. It’s just a way of being from some early experience that wrongly taught us we are undeserving, no matter what we do or don’t do, no matter who we are. That’s a painful, lonely, and difficult thing to overcome in life.

Let’s revisit the felines for a bit.

The mentality of them is claiming rightful ownership of a cardboard box, however how ill-fitting it may be. Felines are all about dominion, aren’t they? Couch, bed, person, they “claim.” They “own.” There is no self-doubt.

“If I fits, I sits.”

Too small? Too big? Not quite “ours?” No problem!

“If I fits, I sits.”

Sit anyway.

Sit anyway.

I know, yet again, it’s easier said than done. Believing we are worthy. How does that become organically engrained in our being? How does it become an automatic thought we don’t need to reach or try so hard for?

Perhaps, it starts by recognizing and admitting to ourselves that we have been fed wrong information about our worth. We were lied to, misled, and ill-prepared to accept that which we deserve. Those wrong lessons came from someone; the origin of that harmful misinformation has often been in the form of a person or persons. Often, those individuals have believed the lie or the information several times over for themselves. And, because they don’t know any differently, they pass it on to us. Sometimes, it is of malicious intent, but most of the time, there is an unawareness of self-worth. There is only the acceptance of settling for less than what a human being deserves. And one way or another, we all settle.

Some of us dare not sit, because we believe it is not an available option to us.

Some of us dare not sit because we believe that standing, crouching, or lying down, symbolic of very specific “answers” are the only solutions OVER sitting.

Some of us dare not sit because we believe the box is for someone else, never for us.

We question, self-doubt, disqualify, maybe, even more so, because we and/or life circumstances are not “perfect enough” yet. So, we settle for something only being as good as a certain level, while never believing there could ever be a better way. It’s not about FOMO or “Bigger, better deal.” It’s about not valuing ourselves at all. It’s about not believing we are entitled to rest, to sit, to experience a respite of a good thing in life.

And so, we accept the unfulfilling plan, marriage, relationship, expectation, and opportunity because, after all, being disappointed and unfulfilled IS something that we have coming. We can sit in misery. That’s a familiar cardboard box. But joy? Peace? Contentment? Acceptance of who we are? Well, we can never inhabit THAT space.

We decide that is not our rightful space.

Only, it is.

Just look at the decidedness of the feline choosing its box. Boom!

“If I fits, I sits.”

There is no second guessing, no waffling. No awaiting perfection. There is no attention being paid to naysayers.

Sit anyway.

Sitting into, settling into, our authentic, valuable lives is an inherent right. It’s about taking up rightful space. There will always be an argument and reasons not to do so.

But there will also always be proverbial boxes, extending the invitation to feel like we’re not quite ready, to get uncomfortable, to grow, to stretch, to sit in the process of all that “sitting anyway” means.

In this regard, you and I do “fit.” Therefore, because we fit, we can agree with and practice that same assertion:

“If I fits, I sits.”

Sit anyway.

Sit anyway.

Sit anyway.

Copyright © 2022 by Sheryle Cruse

Go Ahead, Wild Thing, Feel Sorry For Yourself!

 

Self-Pity gets a bad rap, doesn’t it? We are discouraged and shamed for participating in it. We are made to feel guilty, self-indulgent, selfish, and wrong if we feel sorry for ourselves. This culture, in particular, emphasizes independence, grit, and pulling yourself up by your bootstraps. If we don’t…or can’t, we are often viewed as weak and the embodiment of personal failure.

Pretty bleak, huh?

Cue D.H. Lawrence for still further feel-good edification…

"I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself."

Great, now we’re talking about death as the alternative to self-pity. Sounds like a winning approach.

I love D.H. Lawrence’s poem, “Self-Pity.” Like any good Type A, perfectionist people pleaser, I wanted to improve. I wanted to do better in life. And part of that plan involved attempting to adapt this poem to my life. Struggles, and I had a lot of them, could, somehow, be overcome if only I could subdue all expression of self-pity.

Sounds really doable, doesn’t it?

Yeah.

So, I tried to master the poem in this vehicle called my life. I wanted mastery. I wanted to be bulletproof. I wanted to be immune to hurt.

Also doable…and so realistic.

Terminal Uniqueness (I am the Only One Suffering):

"I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself…”

It’s only happening to me. No one else.

I saw that in the abuse I survived. I saw that in my eating disorder behaviors. I saw that as I went through my breast cancer paces. I am alone.

Only, as I silently said those words to myself, I didn’t fully realize, at the time, what I really meant was, “I am ashamed.” The shame of going through whatever I was going though hijacked the “aloneness” of my situation.

Where did the shame come from? Well, childhood conditioning played a significant role. But I became my own jailer from there.

I was ashamed, and perhaps, too myopic in it to see that that there have been countless others, throughout history, who have have similar experiences to mine. I was not the only one. And that triggered a special shame of “how dare I be miserable and feel sorry for myself” with that fact in place? It was kind of the equivalent of “Clear your plate. There are people in Africa starving.”

And the shame equivalent feels like it smacks that of “You should not be okay with yourself unless and until everyone else is okay and has all of their needs met FIRST!”

Big, big sigh exhaled here. Around and around I went.

And I wanted to be the poem’s “wild thing.” I wanted to be the strong creature, valiantly enduring even with a hurricane’s wind whipping in my face.

Doesn’t it sound romantic? Brave? Inspiring?

I could just muster up feeling like it was “windy” instead.

An “And” World:

Terminal uniqueness. Shame. Shame about the shame.

Come on. You’ve been there with that in your life. We are not immune from suffering these slings and arrows. And there’s the key word in that Shakespearean phrase, a little, itty-bitty word, in fact: “and.”

“And” covers any struggle or pain; “and” covers feeling sorry for ourselves.

You and I are unique human beings AND the life experiences we deal with and suffer through are not solely, entirely unique to us. Someone else, right now, is going, or has gone through what we are experiencing.

“I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all.”

Ecclesiastes 9:11

Just because we have shared like human experiences does not disqualify our inherent preciousness and our ability to be strong or courageous. It is not a case of one or the other. It’s both. At the same time.

“And.”

So, go ahead, Wild Thing. Grant yourself permission to feel sorry for yourself in whatever challenging life circumstance you are facing. And, while you’re doing so, please remember you are strong; you are brave. This is tough stuff, whatever it is for you.

You are too valuable of a creature; honor that, even with the painful struggle. You are worth it.

Unhealthy Instead of Pity:

“…A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough…”
Ah, yes. It’s inevitable in this classic poem. We introduce the concept of death. And it only took the second line of the poem to get there. Fun.

Years ago, when I first encountered “Self-Pity” by D. H. Lawrence, I was struck by the stoicism of our little feathered friend. I romanticized it and I idealized it. I was also no stranger to “near death” as well. Everything from almost dying as an infant, to suicidal thoughts, to emaciation from anorexia. And this was WAAAAY before my breast cancer diagnosis.

And I had been repeatedly told- shamed- that what I was going through “wasn’t that bad.” Yeah, sure, I almost lost my life a few times, but, hey, it could have been so much worse. I made a mountain out of my circumstances when I should have taken a cue from “small bird” here to, instead, drop dead, frozen from my bow, and make that sucker a mole hill already!

What WAS my problem, anyway?

I had a severe case of turning to the unhealthy instead of the sorrowful pity of my reality. I chose to berate myself instead of love myself. I made the death of a frozen bird my answer to my pain and my life.

That’s a dangerous thing to do to any of us who are more on the results/achievement-oriented side of things. It’s dangerous because it removes all grace, all humanity, all wiggle room to make mistakes. Hell, in my case, I didn’t even want to be me? I wanted to be a bird, a frozen dead bird?

Something’s screwy with that notion.

Stay Thawed Out:

As much as it pained me to realize, going through all of my “near-death” situations, I was more valuable dead than alive. I give you an excerpt from Neil Gaiman’s “The Graveyard Book:”

“…‘They are for the most part, done with the world. You are not. You are alive… that means you have infinite potential. You can do anything, make anything, dream anything. If you can change the world, the world will change. Potential. Once you’re dead, it’s gone. Over. you’ve made what you’ve made, dreamed what you’ve dreamed, written your name. you may be buried here, you may even walk. But the potential is finished.’”

Go ahead, Wild Thing, keep your blood flowing, your heart beating. It is not time for you to go yet. Even if it feels like it is.

Part of us staying thawed out is being messy, upset, unkempt,but, nonetheless, we are still tweeting on a branch somewhere. Even if it’s a pathetic, near silent tweet, we have a voice and we have a life and, as long as we keep living, we have the opportunity to use it.

Use it, Wild Thing! Don’t die frozen.

Only Perfect is Acceptable:

“…without ever having felt sorry for itself."

Line three: perfectionistic expectation.

You can imagine how little old me ran amuck with this concept.

It’s an impossible standard to set, uphold, and accept.

“Suck it up.”

“No pain, no gain.”

“Pain is temporary. Pride is forever.”

“Go hard or go home.”

Ever encounter these phrases? They can often be found in high school locker rooms. I have seen my fair share of banners made by the Varsity cheerleaders.

Well, of course, I added Lawrence’s poem to that collection. But I did more that that. I convinced myself of the lie that EVERYONE ELSE was completely, thoroughly, and perfectly executing it, while advancing to such extraordinary results in their own lives. Success! EVERYONE ELSE was achieving it, repeatedly, daily, with the best attitude, and a pleasing smile on their faces. I was the only loser who was failing constantly, because I wasn’t tough, strong, cheerful, or disciplined enough to achieve those exact same results.

(Oh, and by the way, “those exact same results” were always an ever-moving target. And here was an extra fun fact: I was the major person doing most of that moving!)

Everyone’s Flailing and NONE of It is Perfect OR Pretty:

So, go ahead, Wild Thing. Flap those wingers and flail spectacularly!

Once again, there seems to be this unrealistic expectation and pressure placed upon us to not only do incredible feats perfectly, but also do them with the most wonderful smiling attititude that ever existed on Planet Earth.

Be that perfect little birdy.

I couldn’t do that. I could do ugly, embarrassing, ridiculous, pathetic, messy, undignified, and sorrowful, but I couldn’t swing perfect little birdy.

Perhaps, a good illustration of that reality was when I was violently bulimic, dumpster diving just outside of my college apartment. I was not stoic as I dumpster dove; I was desperate. I was in despair. I choked back tears as I rummaged for half-eaten pizza crusts.

“…without ever having felt sorry for itself."

Nope. I was despairing the entire time. I felt I was only a weak failure.

Years have gone by since that time. And I now see that I needed to be in that dark place and, yes, feel sorry for myself. It’s probably not a popular thing to say, but, had it not been for that big time “bottom” experience, there would be no book I wrote about it later on. There would be none of the life I experience now. It’s cliché, but life is often that. The lesson comes, many times, after you and I have disgraced ourselves, after we have been disgusting and filthy.

Perhaps there can be no true cleanup if you and I were never dirty in the first place.

We need to remember not to buy the lie that stoicism is constantly, perfectly achieved by the entire humanity, that it is the only way toward success, answers, happiness, love, and life’s meaning. It is not.

Sometimes, we find the answers, the help, the heart’s desires as we are the exact antithesis to “Self-Pity.” Fraility, vulnerability, and humility serve us much more than the hardened stiff upper lip. Don’t equate stoic with strong. Strength shows up looking like its exact opposite, more often than not.

You are already the Wild Thing. You have nothing to prove.

You are strongly weathering your life right now, feelings aside. We need only look to the pandemic to see how we all are enduring some harrowing events and issues. You and I are doing so, right now, while also, yes, often feeling sorry for ourselves. Don’t underestimate its power. We are, via the vehicle of this misery moving closer to who we are meant to be, and to the lives we are meant to live.

Wild Thing, be assured, that is a wild and incredible thing!

Copyright © 2022 by Sheryle Cruse

 

Mosaic of Beauty

 

“May all your broken pieces which feel so scattered now be reassembled into a mosaic of beauty. May your healing reveal the art of who you really are.”

John Mark Green

Picasso isn’t for everyone.

Some of us see a monstrosity; some of us only see an elbow sticking out of an ear.

Some of us see his work as art at its finest.

They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Extraordinary things can arise from the ashes.

They say all of that. But is all of that truly true?

Pain is beautiful.

No one gets out of this life unscathed. And, generally speaking, no one really enjoys pain. But pain is inevitable. It reoccurs, wearing many different faces. It can be abuse, trauma, death, loss, divorce, failure, and change, just to name a few of its manifestations.

Now, I’m not talking about having an unhealthy dependency on dysfunction. We should seek to get help in mind, body, and spirit. Therapy, learning healthier coping tactics, and accepting ourselves unconditionally should be employed, but not at the expense of denying how much the pain, whatever pain it was, has affected and shaped us.

Nope, we are not “all better” lickety split. We are bleeding and scarred, sometimes lifelong. And we can often view that as moral failure and a defect in our character.

It is not.

It is pain. And pain is difficult, excruciating… and beautiful BECAUSE we have survived the pain. We got out. We made changes. We simply kept breathing.

Pain often gets associated with ugliness because it assumes the worst- case scenario will be the only, final word for us.

But there is beauty from the ashes. There is.

Think about how you have blossomed, and, if you are struggling to see that in yourself, please remember the Lotus Flower. It blooms in the mud. The incredible, delicate, commanding creation blooms in spite of. The flower is not supported by a loving gardener, in a tranquil rose garden. It is not spoken lovingly to by that gardener, affirming it of its inherent beauty and worth. Its beauty is non-negotiable, and flourishes in muddiness, in dirtiness, in filth.

How many of us have grown in mud?

How many of us have felt nothing but dirty our entire lives?

You are not filth. You’re a Lotus Flower.

And your pain can be transmuted into healing, first, for yourself, then for others who believe they are alone in their suffering.

There is a reason you painfully bloomed. There is a reason.

Mistakes (sins) are beautiful.

This one makes us all squirmy, doesn’t it? Especially for us “people of faith” out there. We are shamed for sins and imperfections, repeatedly told how we are nothing but wrong, hopeless, and unacceptable. Love, forgiveness, mercy, and grace seem to be in short supply, sometimes, nonexistent.

I suppose sin is ugly for the pain and the harm it inflicts. And, whether or not you and I view sins and mistakes as one and the same, there seems to be such emphasis in the sin or the mistake as being an inevitable, irrevocable, punishing death sentence. We can absorb lies that tell us we are forever bad, forever ruined, forever wrong, and forever shameful.

We are human beings. We make mistakes. We sin. And while we’re doing all that, we still have value. We do not need to forfeit love and redemption, because we’ve “gone too far.”

No one avoids doing things that are wrong, pathetic, shame-inducing, of poor judgment; no one avoids doing things that are hurtful to others.

Just because we have wound up “there” (in the place of whatever debauchery or evil we think is just too damning to recover from), doesn’t mean we will stay there our entire lives.

All things are subject to change. That includes you and me. Our shortcomings have devastated and changed us. But we are more than any one mistake or sin.

We are the whole mosaic, not just a colorful piece that appears to only look awful.

There is more. We are more.

Growth is beautiful.

Anyone who has ever tried to grow out their hair knows all about the struggle of the awkward stages. Whether we grow out the entire mophead we’re wearing, or simply intend to rid ourselves of our fringy bangs, so we can see our naked foreheads again, these awkward growth stages can appear ugly to us. We can grapple with a no man’s land of being neither here nor there. We don’t quite have short hair; we don’t quite have long hair. Gone are the obvious tidy bangs; but they don’t steer clear of our foreheads completely, often flapping annoyingly against our faces, like the wings of a rabid bat.

(And don’t get me started on trying to wear a ponytail).

Growth is beautiful. But there is a major difference between that assertion and the feelings which are attached to the process. That often feels ugly, painful, difficult. We can often associate beauty with ease. Therefore, we can believe that if something is not easy, it is not beautiful.

We can view the struggle as negating. Beauty is not solely about joy, giddiness, and effortlessness. We do ourselves a disservice if we believe that premise.

If we see the struggle, the hard work, and the tenacity, instead, as the true beauty, regardless of what it looks like, we can take stock in how far we have come, even if it doesn’t look like a beautiful, promised land destination.

We are getting there, nonetheless.

The getting there, not the arrival, is the thing of beauty.

And, since we are not finished human beings, we are constantly beautiful. That is the ongoing mosaic.

(With or without bangs).

Acceptance is beautiful.

I am 5 foot, 4 inches tall. I will not get any taller. There are no more growth spurts in my future (believe me, I checked).

With time and age, I will only shrink,

 (Sigh).

I once had a dream in which I kept standing on chairs and some judge-y chair-type panel of “experts” kept telling me, “Nope, still not tall enough.”

“Not enough.”

We are driven by those two words, aren’t we?

And, when we are not, we seem to be harangued by the words’ evil twin, “Too much.”

No matter which voice is coming at us, it pummels us with how we need to reject, not accept, ourselves.

We do it in big and small ways. We do it, perhaps, because we want beauty in our lives. We want to possess it, control it, activate it, and believe it will always be there. We don’t want to be abandoned by it.

We seem to attach so much power to the enough of beauty. It represents perfection, doesn’t it? And, often, this elusive beauty guarantees that we will finally be worth accepting.

Unless and until, however, that happens, we are obligated to reject ourselves.

After all, how dare we believe we are enough when we look at our lives, and only see the ugliness of shortcomings, failures, and what we deem to be personal ugliness?

What is screaming or whispering to you that you need to reject yourself?

What is preventing you from accepting yourself RIGHT NOW?

A body size? A skin color? A physical characteristic? An income? A relationship status? An achievement? A fear?

I will not be a tall woman. I will not be statuesque, unless, of course, it’s a short statue.

Over the course of my life, thus far, I have learned it’s not important in the grand scheme of things. I have almost lost my life a few times to bring that point home. Eating disorders and breast cancer were some attention getting lessons that taught me I need to appreciate my “vertically challenged,” breastless, imperfect, vulnerable, sometimes irritating, and frustrating self, while I still have the breath to do it.

And I still have the breath to do it.

So, I am tall enough. I am enough, even when I struggle with the “too much/not enough” voices that tell me otherwise.

I accept all the flaws. I’m still breathing.

That’s powerful, because many people are not.

I’m still here, and if I’m too short to reach something, I’ll stand on a chair.

Putting the Puzzle Together: Mosaic…Masterpiece… Me:

How about you?

Want to accept yourself, as is, right now?

Want to embrace your mosaic?

The flaws, the “too much/not enough” of your experience, and the learning of your enough-ness, however long it takes to learn, are all beautiful artistic mosaics, as a most important creation.

“May all your broken pieces which feel so scattered now be reassembled into a mosaic of beauty. May your healing reveal the art of who you really are.”

John Mark Green

Thank you, Mr. Green. I pray your words for ALL of us!

Copyright © 2022 by Sheryle Cruse

Why Not?

 

My Soul Deserves Peace

 

Effort

 

Frenemies?

 Spot Those Frenemies! The importance of identifying and recovering from toxic relationships | elephant journal

Nice To Meet You?

 

I came across this humorous post online:

“Stranger: Nice to meet you.

Me: Give it time.”

I laughed and cringed. I time travelled through my range of dysfunctional relationships, all starting off with one or another version of “nice to meet you.” From being called “the C-Word” from a friend I thought least likely to hear that from, to being insulted while I was simultaneously flirted with and asked out (all because I was being groomed for that treatment by a toxic person), to being stranded at a stranger’s place because a friend didn’t think I appreciated her enough, I have had my fair share of experiences in which I regretted the early “nice to meet you” relationship origins.

And, before I sound too high and mighty, I have also been my own version of a regrettable (and unstable) “nice to meet you” situation myself. I have been “the needy chic,” waiting by the phone, following a guy around constantly. Back in my severely disordered, anorexic days, I was so out of control, I stole, binged on, and threw away my college roommates’ “forbidden” food, all because I couldn’t have that temptation in my presence.

I believe the clinical term for my behavior is “hot mess.”

Seriously, when it comes to “nice to meet you” situations gone awry, I cannot throw stones. I dwell in a glass townhouse with an attached garage.

Concerning these “nice to meet you” situations, why do they sometimes go so badly?

Perhaps it is because…

We operate under the assumption of pleasant:

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Casablanca

Okay, okay, okay, maybe not every relationship is like Casablanca’s epic-ness, but we generally start off with good intentions, don’t we?

Yes, we often operate under the assumption that this new interaction or relationship will be pleasant. Unless we have been so burned to the point of suspicion and bitterness, typically, when we encounter someone, we give them the benefit of the doubt. We believe this time, this person, this experience will be harmless, innocent, and even great, depending upon, perhaps, positive first impressions, our unmet needs expressing hope that we will be loved, heard, seen, and valued, and, of course, good ole’ naiveté.

We want to believe there is nothing nefarious; there is no hidden agenda or ulterior motive. We want to believe we can trust in the certainty interacting with this person will go well.

And sometimes, it does. And sometimes, it can become more nightmare than realized dream.

So, what’s the game plan going in? Employ realistic expectations… and time. Wait and see. Look at the actions, not just the words. Every cliché, yes.

If we are codependent, in any way, however, that is not second nature to us. We have a tendency to expect the nice to show up.

And that places pressure, not only on the situation or the other person, but on us as well.

Therefore, if we’re not careful, the nice can become hellish, because we are not looking at anything beyond “nice to meet you.”

And we need to look in more than that one direction.

We insist on lasting BFFs.

I once impulse bought two adorable stuffed puppies, joined together, with “BFFs” written on both of their puppy chests.

Those stuffed animals spotlight how much and how often we use that phrase in our culture.

BFFs.

Before it took hold of us the way it has now, it was often written in many yearbooks, high school notebooks, and diaries. There’s much emphasis on females, especially, to pair bond with a certain female who will magically qualify as that “Best Friend Forever.”

And, while it is possible to remain best friends with someone from grade school or high school, most of the time, it is more of a rarity than a common occurrence.

BFFs. It screams “Acquisition,” doesn’t it? Like Pound Puppies, Bratz dolls, or whatever the current toy craze is currently going on now, there seems to be this latching, demanding pressure to “Collect them all!”

The basis of a sound, healthy friendship.

We do seem to hoard when it comes to people. We have more difficulty releasing people which may be toxic. We struggle to realize we have outgrown some individuals. Some “friendships” are not built to last. Some are temporary.

A phrase I have given more thought to over the last few years is this:

“People come into your life for a reason, for a season, or for a lifetime.”

Our task is to determine and accept, which people go with each instance.

And then we need to act accordingly.

People are not to be collected and hoarded. People are meant to be in healthy relationship with one another.

That is much more powerful than the catchy phrase, “BFFS.”

Our immaturity (insecurity) needs to trump time.

It can often come down to one important issue, with a question attached to it.

Gimme: why?

There are many possible theories. Here are mine.

We don’t like to be alone.

Sometimes, we are desperate for connection; we are desperate for relationship. This can go beyond simply wanting to get married right now. It encompasses friendship and companionship.
We want anything… and anyone…anything EXCEPT being alone.

Enter, then, immaturity and insecurity. These factors can often drive us to become greedy and grabby. Like the famous Queen song, “I want it all… and I want it now!”

Come on, admit it, you have been there. Maybe you’re there right now.

Whatever the case may be, the concept of patience is not enjoyable to us. No, no, no! Gimme, instead! I want him! I want her! I want them!

We don’t want to wait, especially if it is for our own good.

We believe the lie that the absolute worst pain we could experience is being alone, without that spouse, lover, friend. But sometimes, aloneness is exactly what we need, accompanied by its buddy, time. Maybe we need to heal. Maybe we need to mature. Maybe it’s not the right time. Maybe, even, nothing about this situation and/or person is right.

Pressuring ourselves and rushing into something (or someone), however, does not provide the lasting fulfillment.

If that’s there, that is a cautionary red flag we would do well to heed.

And spend some alone time with ourselves, apart from everyone and everything else.

We don’t want to get to know ourselves, as ourselves.

With the prospect (or threat, depending upon how you view it) of all of this alone time looming for us, many of us struggle with getting to know ourselves.

Is it truly nice to meet ourselves? Is it?

A lot of us believe happiness is found in someone else. We don’t believe we are capable of making ourselves happy, in our own right.

Other people equal distraction, a/k/a, a reprieve from being left alone with our thoughts and the screaming question marks, asking us, “Who am I?”
We want any other noise to drown that out. And sometimes, a certain person comprises that perfect noise to keep the silence, the fear, and the hurt away.

However, as long as we are looking to and for someone else to tell us who we are and give us value, we are neglecting ourselves. We are refusing to know and accept ourselves. We are refusing to love and respect ourselves.

Like the fairytale premise of kissing many frogs to get our Prince Charming, we can become convinced that if we just encounter “the right” nice-to-meet-you interaction and person, then all will be solved.

And it doesn’t work like that. We kiss and kiss and kiss. We look and look and look. We ignore and ignore and ignore ourselves, waiting for someone else to solve us.

As long as we keep doing that, however, the riddle does not get solved.

We don’t want reality (truth) messing with our fairytales.

Prince Charming…Dream Girl… Friends Forever…“Happily ever after…”

That’s what drives all of the above, isn’t it?

“Happily ever after…”

What does that look like in those early “nice-to-meet-you” moments?

What truths would we be willing to overlook? What red flags?

What lies would we want to try to make true for ourselves?

After all, fairytales ARE prettier, easier, neater, more glamorous than imperfect reality.

Why do we need an escape valve? A fantasy? Why do we potentially see that in every new person we encounter? Why?

It’s about pain, isn’t it? Unless you and I are sadists (and one can argue that we all are, in our own unique ways), we generally try to avoid pain at all costs.

Rejection, loneliness, loss, failure, disappointment, frustration are all various points of pain. And they don’t feel good. We want to rid ourselves of them as much as we possibly can. Some of us find the remedy, the antidote, and the cure, therefore, in the meeting of someone new. And it’s exciting to think about, isn’t it? There is the rush, the possibilities, the promise, the hope that can be attached to any new person.

Who wouldn’t get intoxicated by that?

And we often do.

Is this whole thing something that is nice to be met?

It doesn’t matter how things look. It doesn’t matter how things should appear to be.

What IS?

What IS?

Can we look at it without flinching?

Is what you and I are meeting, indeed, something that is nice to be met? That can be another person; that can be ourselves.

How do we feel about- and respond to- that introduction?

Copyright © 2022 by Sheryle Cruse