Posts Tagged: proactive


5
Sep 16

When An HSP Goes No Contact

clinging to summerWhen an HSP goes No Contact, it will take some time for calm to seep back in to daily life. Many things that had been a struggle – things that didn’t need to be – become easy again.

Once you’ve gone No Contact, the first time you go to a restaurant, you’ll relax with the realization that you won’t feel the need to catch the waiter’s eye to express a silent apology for the inexcusable way he was treated. Remember how you would wince when the wait staff approached the table? Would your dinner date be friendly, or dismissive? Would she talk down to the waiter, or would he flirt with the waitress?

Even for an HSP, going out in public will be easier now that you don’t have to try to anticipate your partner’s mood.

 

Pins and needles will find their rightful places in craft projects. You won’t be walking on them any more. Continue reading →


23
Mar 16

Convictions

Please pass the saltI just walked over to the dining room table intending to write “chicken” on my grocery list.  I wrote in block letters and put a box around the word, but when I put down the pen, I realized I’d written the word “convictions.”

 

Have you heard the one about the husband sitting at the dinner table?  He intends to say, “Please pass the salt,” but instead he blurts out, “You’ve ruined my life.”

 

Those messages rise to the surface for a reason. Continue reading →


13
May 15

How to Say “No”

If every shell represented a no ...“So why don’t you just say “no”?”

I put my cell back in my pocket and exhaled loudly as we continued our walk.  “I dunno, Jen.  My knee-jerk reaction is to always try to accommodate – if I can.”

“When they asked you, did you know right away what your answer was?  Did you know right away that you wanted to say no?”

“Well, sure I knew I didn’t want to say yes – my stomach clenched.  Yikes.  That’s a pretty good indication that I want to say no.  I don’t need more on my plate.”

She moved me closer to the sidewalk as a car approached – ever the protector, that one.  “How come you don’t just say no right away?” Continue reading →


8
May 15

On Reversing the Damage Done by a Narcissist

tools for creatingUnderneath her best face is the face that tried to smile through the belittling comments, the dismissals and the personal attacks.

Years later, long after she’d stopped sharing the narcissist’s bed, she could still see signs of that other face.  Now, when she puts her makeup on, she tries to ignore the lines she earned back then.  She brushes her hair and tells herself that now she could wear her hair any way she likes.

She selects an outfit, and remembers how she used to worry that he wouldn’t approve of what she wore.

Now she goes about her day and laughs at the thought of ever having had to ask for permission to come and go as she pleased.  She takes one last look in the mirror before heading out the door, and marvels at how far she’s come.

  Continue reading →


30
Apr 15

Narcissist for a Day

narcissist for a dayToday I’m going to be a narcissist.  I’m going to put myself first.

 

I need to get something done – for me.  In order to do that, I need to put all your stuff aside.

You know I love you.  Right?  And all day long, while I’m making myself a priority, I’ll still be loving you.  But – just for today – I need to make some progress on my* list.

  Continue reading →


23
Jan 15

The Only Survival Skill an HSP Will Ever Need

the only survival skill an HSP will ever needThose dear souls flock to your door.  They can’t help it.  You draw them in with your counselor/helper/listener magnet.  (Think moth to flame.)  You’ve probably tried leaving the magnet on the dresser, or stashing it on the top shelf of the closet, thinking that if you hide the magnet, you won’t ooze that helper vibe.  That helper vibe clings to you the way hurting souls cling to an HSP.

That’s our lot.  We listen.  We counsel.  We comfort.  We care.  That’s who we are, even if/when we pretend we aren’t.

And so you open your door, pour the wine, stoke the fire and fluff the pillows.  Their shoulders relax, the furrows in their brow release and the flood gates open.  And you sip wine and listen.  You refill their glass and listen some more.  You offer them sustenance or a hug and most certainly a tissue.  You do this automatically.  You’ve done it all your life.  You don’t have to remember how to be compassionate.  You don’t have to refer to your cheat sheet on how to be kind and caring.  This treatment defines your character and drives your actions.  It flows from you the way their story flows through those flood gates.

When they leave – after they’ve purged and cleansed and lightened their load – you are left holding their big mess in your hands.  But more times than not, you’re still holding another person’s mess in your hands.  So you end up standing at the door, saying goodbye, juggling 2 or 10 or 100 different messes from souls who came to your door for comfort.

As you close the door, you wonder how you will clean up the wine glasses, re-stock the firewood, and go about your day while still holding the messes from all those hurting souls. Continue reading →


16
Jan 15

Confessions of An Ex-Facilitator

ski trailsWill thought if we left a little later, the timing would be off and we wouldn’t run into him, but when we pulled into the parking lot, we saw him getting out of his car.

Crap.

In my optimistic, nothing-will-ruin-our-day voice I said, “It’s okay.  He knew we were going to be here.  He knows we don’t get to do a mid-week escape very often.  He hasn’t asked to ski with us.  This will all work out.  Trust me.”

Will said, “I just wanna ski with you two today.  We never get to ski just the three of us.”

I lifted a pair of skis to my shoulder and said, “It’ll work out.” Continue reading →


8
Aug 14

Random Thoughts at the Five Year Mark

starting overwow.

This blog is five years old.

wow.

 

Things have changed a lot in five years.  We not only survive, but we thrive on a mostly daily basis.  The health of my kids (and myself!) is testament to the power of connection, the awesomeness of being heard, the cathartic healing found in knowledge and the magic of friendship. Continue reading →


25
Jul 14

Make a New Bed

make a new bedIf you’ve spent any time in these parts, you know how I feel about making beds, but this morning I had an “epipha-me“.

I was thinking about choices, plans, wrong turns, course corrections and new directions.

There’s an idiom that goes like this:

You made your bed, now lie in it.
 

My INFJness had my wheels spinning on that one.  Mostly I was thinking about the individual who penned that classic phrase.  How stuck was she, or I suppose it could have been a he?  How dismal to go through life thinking, “This is it.  This is where I am.  This is what I planned for.  I’m here.  Better stick with it.”

How many decide that since they invested so much time in this relationship, or spent so much money on that degree, that they can’t make a choice to do something else?  Even if they aren’t happy in that relationship or with the job that degree landed them, they stick with their choices.

I wish I could have told the person who wrote that idiom,

“If you can make one bed, you can make another.
It’s okay.
Really.
Make a new bed.”

 

 


28
Apr 14

Let Go

let go

Let go or be dragged.
          – Zen Proverb

 

She read the quote again.  She closed the laptop and walked over to the peely-paint cupboard that held art supplies and construction paper.  What color should she pick?  She settled on purple.  She looked for a marker in the Kerr jar on the kitchen table.  She wanted something bold – a marker that would yell.  She found a juicy dark blue and purposefully wrote the quote.

She taped the quote next to the others that read:  That is not my journey, NMP – not my problem, and No steamrollers!

As she re-read the quotes, she visualized a thick twisted rope.  The strands of rope were different colors, twined together to make a rope as thick as her wrist.  Each color represented something or someone that she’d allowed to drag her to where she found herself today.

 

The black represented every one-sided, caustic, demanding, life-sucking relationship she’d ever been in – the narcissists.

The charcoal symbolized her limiting self-talk.

The brown represented her expectations – going as far back as childhood – about what she thought her life would be.

The grey stood for definitions of who she was – assigned to her by others.

The burnt orange represented her lack of self-confidence.

The dark green was every negative, gossip-filled conversation that she hadn’t had the guts to excuse herself from.

 

She looked back at the quote.

 

Let go or be dragged.

 

She wondered where she’d be if she hadn’t allowed that rope to drag her where she is today.  She laughed and told herself, “Well, that’s a waste of time.  You could spend the rest of the day wondering where you could have gone, or you could pull out a pair of scissors and cut that rope apart.”

The burnt orange was the first to go, followed by the grey and the dark green.  The brown was the most fun to cut.  She ceremoniously snipped the brown and felt her mood brighten.  There would be new doors to open once she locked the door on expectations.

The charcoal would take some effort.  She’d have to sharpen the scissors for that one.  Limiting self-talk had been her constant companion.  With sharper scissors, she began to snip the threads of the charcoal strand.

She snipped – “You’re not good enough.”
She cut – “You’re an inconvenience.”
She removed – “Why aren’t you more like everyone else?

She saw charcoal threads scattered on the floor at her feet.  She noticed that the charcoal strand was tightly connected to the black strand.  She kept cutting.

 

The black strand was the thickest – requiring more than a pair of scissors.

 

As of this writing, she’s still hacking away at the black strand.

 

Let go or be dragged.


25
Oct 13

The INFJ and the Narcissist – Part 2

The infj and the narcissist 2Those INFJ traits make for a tenacious individual when it comes to working on relationships.  She would never run out of the desire to try.  She’d contort herself into whatever shape he needed in order to make this work.

If he wanted an outdoorsy woman, she’d happily put on hiking boots.

If he wanted a woman who only had time for him, she’d quit returning the calls from friends and family.

If he wanted a companion who followed his dreams, she’d tuck her dreams away in a box on a shelf in the closet.

  Continue reading →


30
Jul 13

You’ll Get There

 One day you’ll be sitting at your computer and you’ll open your inbox.

You’ll see your ex-husband’s name and you’ll think, “Crap!”

You’ll take a sip of coffee and think to yourself, “Geez, this day started out so well.  It’s not too hot out this morning.  The coffee’s excellent.  The kids are still sleeping and I have a bit of time to gather myself for the day.  And then this – an email from him.”

“Damn.”

  Continue reading →


17
Jul 13

A Survivor’s Cheat Sheet

The green index card in my purse is my backbone fortifier. The card contains notes on how to handle verbal attacks. A friend on Twitter sent me a link to Martha Beck’s post on the subject. I had to create a short-hand version of Martha’s approach so as to fit it on one side of the card.  I wanted a quick cheat sheet to refer to when necessary.

(No, I haven’t actually pulled the card out in front of an attacker.  Not yet.)

I refer to this card when I’m standing in line at the grocery store.  I re-read this card when I’m in the parking lot waiting for Will to finish 18 holes.  Looking in my purse to find chapstick, I see the green of the card and I’m reminded of the key points.

Here’s the version that has helped me.

1.  Fighting Stance. Continue reading →


13
Jul 13

Passion-Driven

I whisper as I nudge his shoulder, “It’s 6:30, honey, time to get up.”

He rolls over to pull the covers over one shoulder, “Okay.  I’ll get up in a second.”

I walk out to the kitchen and put some water on to boil.  It’s hard for me to be up this early on a Saturday.  I don’t know how an almost 15 year old does it.

This is his fourth day in a row.

 

As I sprinkle coffee into the filter, I can hear rustling coming from his bedroom.  I marvel at the fact that most days, I don’t have to nudge him more than once.

He’s got it down to a system.  He gets his clubs ready the night before.  He lays his clothes out, gathers his wallet, phone and golf journal.  In the morning, he needs enough time to shower and get dressed.   I can be seen following him around nagging him to take another bite of bagel or drink more water.

We get in the car and we are off.

 

Depending on whether he golfs 9 or 18 or 27, I won’t hear from him again until he calls to tell me he’s on the tee box of his last hole.   This from the boy whose hip has been connected to mine for 15 years.  This from the boy who likes to know where I am at all times.

 

Golfing is his passion.  When he’s golfing, he is in his zone.  (When he’s not on a course, he’s practicing his swing, Googling other golfers’ swings, learning about new equipment or making a tee time.)

When he’s in his element, he isn’t worrying about what I’m doing, what’s for dinner, whether he has disappointed his dad, or what his sister might be getting that he isn’t getting.

When he is in his zone, he is free to be who he is without the influences of his life.

 

Who wouldn’t get out of bed at 6:30 on a Saturday to get to a place where you can feel like that?


15
Mar 13

“How Can I Help You”

I was stirring the fettuccine as the door closed behind him.  I looked over and noticed she didn’t look up. She didn’t speak.  She kept her head down as she focused on her project.

Dinner was almost ready to hit the table.  I turned to Will and said, “Buddy, dinner is close, but I’ve gotta talk to Jenny first.”

So what if the pasta was going to be mushy.

I pulled my stool next to Jenny and quietly asked her to look at me.  When she did I said, “Honey, I want you to know that I remember how that feels.  I know what it’s like to be in a room with my dad, have him talk to my brother, and leave before saying a word to me.  I know how that hurts, but I don’t want to project my feelings on to you.”

“What does project mean?” Continue reading →