Things "Bob" can't do

I was talking to a  friend the other day about relationship stuff. She has told me, multiple times, that she just doesn't understand polyamory, and that it seems way too complicated and complex. So, the other day, she asked if I'd met "Bob". It took me a minute to catch up to the fact that she was talking about "B.O.B"...Battery Operated Boyfriend.

She extolled Bob's virtues...saying that Bob is wonderful, and can solve all sorts of problems. My answer was something along the lines of "if that's all I was looking for, then yeah, Bob would be great. But I'm not."

So this morning, my brain started working through the things that Bob can't do...

1) Bob can't make me laugh.

2) Bob can't hold me when I cry.

3) Bob can't talk me through an anxiety attack.

4)  Bob can't encourage me when I feel like I'm failing.

5) Bob can't congratulate me when I finally succeed.

6) Bob can't squeeze my hand when I feel like I need strength.

7) Bob can't help with my kids when I need it.

8) Bob can't tell me that needing help doesn't make me a bad mom.

9) Bob can't just be there with me, when I need someone, but am so burnt out that I can't engage with anyone.

10) Bob can't love me.

"A named thing is a tamed thing"

 There is a common theme in the older lore of several cultures that knowing a thing's name gives you power over it. In some places, that meant a baby's name wasn't spoken until it's Christening, when it was then firmly under God's protection. In some fae lore it leads to creatures being called my nicknames describing what they do, "Spoon-Licker" or "Skyr-Thief", instead of by a "true name".

A named thing is a tamed thing.

Fears can work like that, too. Naming them may not fully tame them, but it can at least help bring them into the light where they can be fought much more easily. 

So...what am I afraid of?

1) I'm afraid of being alone. 

I don't mean that I'm afraid of not having a partner, or that I'm scared being the only one in my house...I mean that I'm afraid of being alone, where there is no one to lean on when I'm weak, no one who actually knows me, and no one who cares if I'm ok or not.

There are times I can't deal with being around people. It feels like nails on a chalkboard to have people talk to me, or for me to have to engage and talk to them...but I still need to know that someone is there when I'm ready to come back out. Facebook helps a lot with that. While I sometimes worry that my posts seem like pleas for attention, they're not, quite. They are more a "I'm still here". I can do the same thing via instant messenger orvtextvwith some people. I don't need an actual conversation, just a "touch" or smile, to know that I'm not alone.

2) I'm afraid of being trapped. 

I'm afraid of being told I have to act/dress/be/think a certain way. I need to be able to be whoever I am at the time. I need to be able to explore things, at my pace, and decide whether or not I like them without other people's judgement getting in the way. 

3) I'm afraid of not being able to support my children and myself. I'm afraid of being dependent on someone else.

This might be two fears, or just one. They're so tightly mixed together that I can't tell. 

I'm afraid of selling myself short to keep a roof over our heads. I'm afraid of making choices that aren't the most healthy for me, because of the worry that the girls and I will end up homeless.

5) I'm afraid that the example I set for my girls isn't the one I want them to learn from.

I have very intelligent children, who are growing up to be strong women. I want them to learn that it's ok to not always be ok, and that sometimes things like housework will slide because self-care and a social life are important. I'm already glad, and sad, that they were able to point out yesterday that my leaving them home in the evenings so I can have a social life means that I'm happier and that we have a higher quality of time together.

I know there are more fears still to be named, but this is a good start.

A named thing is a tamed thing. 

Wooden Indians

When I was little, we used to go eat at an outdoor fish and chips place in Santa Barbara. There was a life size wooden statue of an Indian in a full feathered headdress...and I was terrified of him. (Yes, I know the politically correct term is "Native American", but I grew up afraid if a wooden Indian. It was the eighties.)

At some point, my mom told me that to get over my fear, I needed to walk up to him, knock on the wood, and say "I'm not afraid of you". That became part of the ritual any time we went to eat there. It is the first lesson I remember on facing my fears. 

Lately, I've had huge problems with anxiety. I have anxiety medication that I'm taking far more often than I like, but it keeps me much more functional. I'm learning to recognize the physical signs of anxiety, (knotted stomach, tight jaw, rushing pulse, whooshing sound in my ears), and now, finally, realizing that sometimes "anxiety" is another word for "fear". 

My world is suddenly filled with giant wooden Indians.

Often, what I need to calm the anxiety is information. I need to eliminate the fears of the unknown possibilities, and work with what is really going on. (Turn on the light and let me see that it is just a statue, not someone waiting to attack me.)

Sometimes, the information I need is already inside me. I need to stop, look at what I'm afraid of and fully admit it. Sometimes I need to write it out, so I have it in front of me. Sometimes, I need to tell someone. Sometimes, I just need to tell myself...repeat it over and over in my head. Admitting it seems to relax the knots in my stomach, at least for a time.

I am a grown-up, but I still need to walk up to those Indian statues, knock on them, and say, with confidence, "I am not afraid of you".

And someday, maybe I'll even believe it.

Thoughts from a Wonder Woman exchange

This started as a Facebook status, but has grown to the point that I think this is a better place for it. At least to keep track of it for later. 

Quotes from the Wonder Woman trailer that catch me every time I see it:

"I can't let you do this"

"What I do is not up to you"

There is so much truth, and strength, in those words, that goes so far beyond the film. 

I've run into the problem lately that when I make a choice by myself, for myself, it is taken as my telling someone else "this is what I'm going to do and fuck your if you don't like it."

This is not how healthy, loving, supportive, relationships are supposed to work. 

"You choosing to do this scares me. I'm worried about you. I want to help."

"I know, but I need to do this for myself, alone."

(Ideally, this would be followed by a hug, not someone sulking away.)

That would seem like a much healthier exchange. No, it wouldn't fit with the movie, but for real life? That's what I want. That's what I need.