We really seem to be getting in a groove now. Instead of me spilling my guts when my therapist asks me how my week went, I can generally give a brief vent about something in particular and then she asks “Do you want to continue diving into that, or transition to EMDR?” After my vent I’m generally ready to switch gears.
Today’s vent was about my green eyed monster. I told her about my irritation with my husband when he tells me about the success he’s having, and my bigger frustration with myself for having these feelings at all. She said she sees a pattern in me. When I feel like I *shouldn’t* feel a certain way and try to suppress it, it tends to make things worse. She suggested that I open up space to allow myself to feel my feelings and not tell myself I’m doing something wrong. I know this on a logical level. It’s much harder to actually implement. (Back to this later.)
We then transitioned into EMDR. This go ’round started out very confusing. The first images I saw didn’t feel like memories of mine. I could see trees and a cliff and someone trying to climb the rocks, unsuccessfully (I don’t think it was me?). I then saw a trail and sunset, a fox or coyote nearby. But no people. Eventually it morphed into the kitchen of my childhood home. My mother was serving dinner to the rest of us (sister, brother, dad, and me). It didn’t take long before everyone was arguing and I was curled up in a ball, crying and covering my ears.
I then saw myself curled up on my bed in the midst of my VERY messy room, hugging a stuffed animal. I started to clean my room by putting everything from the floor onto the bed, then walked down the hall amongst the piles of boxes that lined our hallway (my parents were/are pretty much hoarders). I went into the backyard and laid on the trampoline to stare at the sky. A friend came over and we started jumping on the trampoline, but I got winded way sooner than my friend and had to sit out on the swingset, feeling very much alone even with my friend over.
We then transitioned to the swimming pool and I felt the bubbles all around me as I jumped into the deep end of the pool. It felt peaceful. Then I was at swim lessons, learning various strokes. This swim lesson was for medical necessity. My sister had started taking these lessons because of her arthritis and my mom decided to enroll me because of my heart. I could not keep up with the “normal” kids and got winded very quickly.
I then found myself sitting by a lake with my dad, fishing. My brother and his friend were running around, but my dad and I sat quietly. I caught a fish and he taught me to clean it and cook it over a campfire. I sat next to the fire with him eating and feeling content.
When the session was over, my therapist asked me about my dad. She hasn’t heard me talk about him (or my brother) much, mostly my mom and my sister. I told her that I’m probably the closest to my dad of my siblings and remember that when he and my mom would fight, he would get in his car and leave. Whenever I could, I would go with him. Probably out of fear that he might never come back. I remember going to a local pond to fish, though we never caught anything. We’d just sit together without talking.
I told her that I love my dad, but feel badly because I rarely think about him. I don’t know if that’s because he moved out when I was in highschool or what. I said that I used to talk to my mom all the time, but actually talk to her less than I did prior to the pandemic because I feel like her anxiety has gotten worse and that I tend to pick absorb that and get anxious as well. Her pointing out that I rarely talk about my dad or brother makes me curious.
I mean, I’m fairly certain a lot of my people pleasing comes from my dad’s example. And my brother could be downright mean and my parents spent a lot of time focused on him when he would have his fits or run away. My mom says she believes that he was trying to take the focus off of their fighting, especially since he became much nicer when my dad moved out (which actually coincided with my sister moving to college and a piece of glass that had been stuck in his foot for years finally worked its way out). So I’m not sure why they don’t come up in sessions more. Maybe because my mom and sister’s opinion mattered so much to me. And I never felt like I measured up.
Anyway, I said I’d circle back to the green eyed monster issue. After my session was over, I went to Panara Bread and sat at a table in a hidden corner to have a light lunch and work on writing. I’ve enrolled in a couple of prerecorded writing workshops lately, but haven’t gotten around to watching them. After I finished my writing session today I decided to watch the one about The Introvert Writer (from Lauren Sapala). I took so many notes because everything she said resonated SO much! And this is where things clicked into place.
My envy of my husband’s “success” as compared to mine has everything to do with the fact that I am INFJ and have been conditioned to think that I am doing life “wrong.” She said that INFJs and INFPs process things slowly and internally, have deep emotional ties to our work, and are big picture thinkers. But the creative world pushes the idea that writers (or other creatives) should work fast, cultivate a “thick skin,” and get constant feedback. This is not how intuitive thinkers work, but that doesn’t make it wrong. However, due to the messages we receive from school and life in general, we end up with an inner critic that tells us we’re too slow/stupid/weird, and that we don’t have what it takes.
The feelings I’m having about my husband have everything to do with the shame of feeling like I’m doing something “wrong” because I can’t approach the things I’ve always thought were my “thing” the same way that he does. But I will never be able to do that, because I’m just not wired that way. Lauren said that creating an awareness of how we process and work best isn’t going to change things overnight, but will work towards letting go of that shame.
Hearing her talk about how INFJs work best is so very freeing. All of the things that I felt I was getting wrong are exactly the things she talked about. She said that introvert writers need to give themselves permission to work slowly, keep their work private at least until they’ve done several revisions, let go of editing until they’ve completed their first draft, and explore alternatives to traditional publishing. It really does make sense.
So I’m going to try very hard to remind myself that I’m not doing things wrong, I’m just in the minority. And the fact that my husband doesn’t do things the same way doesn’t mean that he does it better than me, just different. With enough practice, maybe my inner critic will give me a break.
Leave a Reply