Being in a relationship that involves absolute honesty and requires me to share my every insecurity can be a bit unnerving. Over the weekend my lover did something that I felt was inconsiderate, so I told him so. Not rudely, I wasn't angry, but he had committed to spend some online time with me and didn't show up. No matter how long I do this, I think the old programming will still echo in the back of my mind. At the point that I typed the words, "It was inconsiderate of you not to let me know that you came home to company and couldn't chat with me.", there were butterflies in my stomach.
And, of course, there's the fact that he was caught up visiting with his friends and didn't reply. That was Saturday night. Sunday I knew he wouldn't be online because of work and gaming, but by the end of Sunday I found myself worrying. Had I offended him? Was he angry with me? Was I being naive thinking that this whole honesty thing would work? Was I deceiving myself into believing that I could trust him? Once I stopped and thought about it, all of these thoughts ran through my mind, at which point I took a deep breath and distanced myself from them. I call it compassionate observation of myself (I don't know where that term came from originally, but it's a good one!), the point at which I realize I'm about to have an emotional reaction to something or that my emotions are running away with me and I just stop. Taking a mental step back from the process allows me to assess my reactions instead of lashing out at the person(s) causing the emotions.
Having grown up in a household where lashing out was the norm and I was told that I knew what would happen if I angered someone, I learned that it was my responsibility not to do so. The consequences of that lesson were that I didn't know who I was, other than a referee to people with little to no self-control. I had to move thousands of miles away to sort it all out, and I'm forever thankful to a wonderful man who will always be in my life who encouraged me to go, even though it meant that he and I would also be thousands of miles apart. Recently someone on Polyamorous Percolations and I had a deep discussion of my philosophy of integrity and I found myself having to practice compassionate observation when she said that it seemed boring and kept reiterating that she was a passionate person. My gut reaction was indignation at the implication that I'm boring and cold, but I knew the root of my reaction was my own insecurity and fear of being average, so I didn't lash out at her for saying it. I realize it's foreign to many people, but that doesn't make it wrong.
Anyway, in the end we talked Monday and everything was OK, but it left me pondering the degree of trust it takes to have this type of relationship. I know from past experience that if the other party isn't offering the same degree of openness and honesty it can quickly go awry, but I won't let that stop me from offering something that I know can be beautiful and fulfilling, giving me a deeper connection with my loved ones than I've ever known before.
And, of course, there's the fact that he was caught up visiting with his friends and didn't reply. That was Saturday night. Sunday I knew he wouldn't be online because of work and gaming, but by the end of Sunday I found myself worrying. Had I offended him? Was he angry with me? Was I being naive thinking that this whole honesty thing would work? Was I deceiving myself into believing that I could trust him? Once I stopped and thought about it, all of these thoughts ran through my mind, at which point I took a deep breath and distanced myself from them. I call it compassionate observation of myself (I don't know where that term came from originally, but it's a good one!), the point at which I realize I'm about to have an emotional reaction to something or that my emotions are running away with me and I just stop. Taking a mental step back from the process allows me to assess my reactions instead of lashing out at the person(s) causing the emotions.
Having grown up in a household where lashing out was the norm and I was told that I knew what would happen if I angered someone, I learned that it was my responsibility not to do so. The consequences of that lesson were that I didn't know who I was, other than a referee to people with little to no self-control. I had to move thousands of miles away to sort it all out, and I'm forever thankful to a wonderful man who will always be in my life who encouraged me to go, even though it meant that he and I would also be thousands of miles apart. Recently someone on Polyamorous Percolations and I had a deep discussion of my philosophy of integrity and I found myself having to practice compassionate observation when she said that it seemed boring and kept reiterating that she was a passionate person. My gut reaction was indignation at the implication that I'm boring and cold, but I knew the root of my reaction was my own insecurity and fear of being average, so I didn't lash out at her for saying it. I realize it's foreign to many people, but that doesn't make it wrong.
Anyway, in the end we talked Monday and everything was OK, but it left me pondering the degree of trust it takes to have this type of relationship. I know from past experience that if the other party isn't offering the same degree of openness and honesty it can quickly go awry, but I won't let that stop me from offering something that I know can be beautiful and fulfilling, giving me a deeper connection with my loved ones than I've ever known before.
Powered by ScribeFire.
No comments:
Post a Comment