Living with someone who has turbulent emotions and constant mood swings is challenging. On any day, at any hour, you can never be quite sure what to expect; what 'issue' may have cropped up in their minds which requires them to emote into their atmosphere. There appears to be a sense of things buried in their bones that their problems need to be shared. There's an expectation that one is there to listen; that the carrying of life on their sleeve is the ways things must be and that it's normal for them, that they have the right, to alter the feelings of those around them according to the way they are feeling at any given moment. To break it down, it can look like the thought in their head is 'If I'm not happy, then you can't be happy either.'
I certainly can't speak for women with a disposition similar to mine but I can say that I have been caught in this vice more times than I can remember. For a few years there, my reaction to this sort of attack on my state of well being would be to take myself as far away from the circumstance and as quickly as I could; to move and keep moving.
I was profoundly aware of my physical sensations. My heart would be thumping in my chest, my head pounding with tension, and my gut and throat would feel alarmingly constricted. The anger I would feel in being put upon, in having my sense of calm disrupted; my sense of frustration that someone would have the gall to be rude because he felt a lack of harmony within himself, would explode inside me as might a volcano that does not spew out lava but contains the eruption within. At its worst, this sense of upset could last hours.
It wasn't until it was suggested to me that I actually should be physically contained when angry (and boy, did that set my emotions aglow) that I started to consider the idea of staying quite still when angry. Very quickly, this strategy helped, because unwittingly I'd enabled my breathing to recover; to slow down and begin to recover from the 'flight or fight' reaction that had been induced in me.
I've come to see that I can't necessarily really have any effect over another person, regardless of how angelic or submissive my behavior. If a person wants to be unhappy, sad, mad, angry, or frustrated; if he wants to remain in denial as to his issues, or sit in a room on his own; whatever; there is nothing I can do about that. I say this as a person who has tried to have effect and failed. There is no denying the fact that I hate to fail at anything and this scenario isn't comfortable for me, especially when I have been in pursuit of solutions for so long.
However, what I have come to see is that that person is not responsible for the pain I am feeling. If I can find a quiet place to sit with my eyes closed I can get in touch with the pain I am feeling in my body. Am I carrying the pain with tightness across my skull, or do I feel constriction in my neck? I can place my hands over the painful parts of my body and quite literally 'hold' the painful experience. "It hurts here," I tell myself.
These are my feelings. Even if they were intended, they still belong to me. I have the choice to respond to painful situations in creative ways. By taking responsibility for the feelings I have the power to make the pain melt away. I'm no longer blaming anyone for the painful response so I have the power to make the pain go away. Even when turbulence encircles me it doesn't have to overwhelm me, because I have the power to ensure that it doesn't hurt me; or if it does, that I can make it go away.
There is huge personal power in this school of thought. For me, it is a way to return to the peace and calm that I routinely seek in spite of the challenges of my life. It's a strong reminder of the simple fact that the peace resides in me and that I don't need to run off and find it.
I certainly can't speak for women with a disposition similar to mine but I can say that I have been caught in this vice more times than I can remember. For a few years there, my reaction to this sort of attack on my state of well being would be to take myself as far away from the circumstance and as quickly as I could; to move and keep moving.
I was profoundly aware of my physical sensations. My heart would be thumping in my chest, my head pounding with tension, and my gut and throat would feel alarmingly constricted. The anger I would feel in being put upon, in having my sense of calm disrupted; my sense of frustration that someone would have the gall to be rude because he felt a lack of harmony within himself, would explode inside me as might a volcano that does not spew out lava but contains the eruption within. At its worst, this sense of upset could last hours.
It wasn't until it was suggested to me that I actually should be physically contained when angry (and boy, did that set my emotions aglow) that I started to consider the idea of staying quite still when angry. Very quickly, this strategy helped, because unwittingly I'd enabled my breathing to recover; to slow down and begin to recover from the 'flight or fight' reaction that had been induced in me.
I've come to see that I can't necessarily really have any effect over another person, regardless of how angelic or submissive my behavior. If a person wants to be unhappy, sad, mad, angry, or frustrated; if he wants to remain in denial as to his issues, or sit in a room on his own; whatever; there is nothing I can do about that. I say this as a person who has tried to have effect and failed. There is no denying the fact that I hate to fail at anything and this scenario isn't comfortable for me, especially when I have been in pursuit of solutions for so long.
However, what I have come to see is that that person is not responsible for the pain I am feeling. If I can find a quiet place to sit with my eyes closed I can get in touch with the pain I am feeling in my body. Am I carrying the pain with tightness across my skull, or do I feel constriction in my neck? I can place my hands over the painful parts of my body and quite literally 'hold' the painful experience. "It hurts here," I tell myself.
These are my feelings. Even if they were intended, they still belong to me. I have the choice to respond to painful situations in creative ways. By taking responsibility for the feelings I have the power to make the pain melt away. I'm no longer blaming anyone for the painful response so I have the power to make the pain go away. Even when turbulence encircles me it doesn't have to overwhelm me, because I have the power to ensure that it doesn't hurt me; or if it does, that I can make it go away.
There is huge personal power in this school of thought. For me, it is a way to return to the peace and calm that I routinely seek in spite of the challenges of my life. It's a strong reminder of the simple fact that the peace resides in me and that I don't need to run off and find it.
Ah, this fascinates me. My marriage - lengthy, as stated previously - /is/ a happy one, but my master is bipolar, and suffers from PTSD. So, it has been necessary for us to color outside the lines, so to speak. In our life, submission and caregiving have to be balanced, depending on the day, the mood. I have not yet found the quick and graceful way of switching off and on, but will try this approach. I like the concept of finding the physical place where the angst has perched, and addressing the angst through the body. Very sensible. Thank you for this, as well as your kind welcome last week.
ReplyDeleteGenuine Risk: It sounds clear to me that you have a diagnosis and this must make considerable difference in managing the situation. Unfortunately, all we really have are my observations and I believe with all my heart that my husband has had ADHD all his life. I have spoken with my doctor who has a very specific interest in ADHD and treats my two sons and my husband did, once late last year, go to him at my request. He was told that based on that long consultation it all pointed to ADHD. Unfortunately, my husband has been prepared to go no further with investigation or treatment that I feel sure would aid him (and us). At this time, it feels like a 'mental breakdown' or as my doctor would say, "he has hit the brick wall and he has nowhere to go". On some days, my husband has some clarity as to what has happened to us. I told him that I, and the children, are his "safe place" and he doesn't really want any more than that. His life is small right now as per his design. My reading suggests that I speak with him calmly, get him out of the house as often as possible, and of course, I gently encourage him to proceed with diagnosis and treatment. But, I'm deeply sad about it all. I am trying to find my peace in numerous ways and certainly the above is one of them because on some days he is most unsettled and this strategy helps me a lot. It's really lovely for me to have your presence on these pages.
ReplyDeleteIt's not surprising that those of us who identify as submissive find ourselves paired up with people like this. My ex-husband had similar behaviors. You are so wise to find healthy coping strategies for yourself and to take responsibility for the effect you allow it to have on you.
ReplyDeleteSusan aka July Girl
Susan: It's a form of 'self soothing', something I read about in 'Passionate Marriage' years ago. I've a friend who has not been well and she disassociates from the grumpiness of people in a similar way. She says she hasn't the time to allow it to interfere with having a happy day. At the same time, there is a sense of 'disconnection' in all this for me; as if I am trying to 'survive' the distress by taking myself off to be on my own, when I'm actually looking for the deepest sense of connection possible. People who create havoc by spraying around their discontent and anger find that people disconnect from them because there is very little choice. Certainly, when I express anger this alienates my husband so logic demands that the same thing will happen when his emotions are negative. It's just the way it works and people tend to need space to sort through these times of alienation to return to a sense of being at one.
ReplyDelete