Freeing The Inner Hostage

When did I get to be so timid, so cautious, so afraid to stand up and say something raw and real, something that might make others uncomfortable?  

With awareness comes choice. I am overwhelmingly grateful for the book sales that allow me to write. But I've recently discovered that I've been holding myself hostage to this unexpected boon. Because the truth is, with the book sales and the “fame” (albeit a one on the one-to-ten scale of this kind of ephemeral “known-ness” that brings both blessings and strangeness) I’ve become. . .  cautious. 

When something you offer goes beyond the local circle that knows you personally, it invites projection because. . . . well, because that’s what we human beings do: we project the best and the worst of ourselves- onto others. It’s such a consistent thing in the human family that I have to assume it’s a feature, not a bug. It lets us see qualities that we are not ready to own (or aren’t even aware of) in ourselves, helps us see our reaction to and work out our relationship to these qualities.

We've all experienced the difficulties with  projections- the confusion and hurt of realizing that the other has not seen us for who we are or doesn’t like what they see when our humanness emerges; the anguish when our projection onto another drops and we see the human being before us and are less than thrilled with what we see (and with whom we may have intertwined some aspect of our life.) 

My default survival strategy as a child was to take responsibility. For everyone. And everything. All the time. Yes, as crazy as it sounds (and is) I decided (although that sounds far more conscious than I could have been) that the only response to my existence being an on-going disappointment to my mother, was to work hard with every breath to make everything alright for everyone. Impossible, but it kept me moving, trying, working, striving for more than a few decades. Until my body collapsed. And then, with a lot of help, I learned (and am still learning) about self-love and care, about the limits to my ability to respond, about what is and is not mine to “fix” or “save," about how we co-create what is -together.

It’s an on-going healing, and one I have come to appreciate for the consciousness it requires and cultivates. But the old default strategy is wired into my limbic brain. Most of the time I can see it, catch it, sit with it. But one of the things that sometimes triggers unconscious terror in me is feeling or anticipating others' disappointment.

And nothing breeds disappointment like projection.

So, the reason I get all antsy and ambivalent about doing public speaking or teaching (aside from my soul-deep need to spend my time writing) is 1) I know (and hope) some folks will come because they have read my books; 2) not knowing me personally they will project all kinds of wonderful qualities they have onto me; and 3) as they see me and get to know me they will be disappointed. It's inevitable, although probably not as consistent or ubiquitous as I imagine in my worst moments. And as much as I dread seeing or feeling others' disappointment, what really scares me is what I have done and might unconsciously do again to avoid it-  censoring myself, hedging on the truth as I know it, or taking on impossible responsibilities that are simply not mine. 

Oh, it's not all about self-preservation. When I have an opportunity to offer something I want to ensure that (to the best of my ability) I do no harm, that I offer something that encourages us to be compassionate and kind. But compassion and kindness has to include room for our human frailty and  shadow- those qualities we might want to deny even in our own minds.

Because I am every bit as human- as contradictory and inconsistent and messy in my thoughts, feelings and actions- as anyone else. Sometimes, at the end of a long day in the midst of a week of conscientious self-care, I eat six popsicles. Yep, six! Don’t ask me why. Some days, within minutes, I swing from feeling genuine compassion for people who are clearly having a hard day, to wanting to verbally lop off a few heads for bad behaviour. Some days I wish the best for my ex, and some days I hope he is tortured by living in the house I bought and furnished with things I'd either carefully purchased after saving for years, or inherited from my grandmother. 

I try not to feed or act on the popsicle-craving, head-lopping, vengeful aspects of self. And some days I succeed. But that doesn’t mean those aspects aren’t there and won't at times, be all too apparent. That's just what it is to be a human being. And when (not if, but when) my humanness disappoints another, well. . . that's also just what is. Another’s disappointment may feel momentarily life-threatening, but that’s an echo of an old reality that has passed. 

And even this- this failure to consistently maintain (or pretend to maintain) the awareness that others’ reactions are theirs and are not about me- well it’s yet another part of the messy magnificence of me.

So, look out. There's no telling what might come out of me now that I am no longer being held hostage to the unconscious desire to avoid disappointing people- both those I know and those I don't. 

Oriah (c) 2012