Tag Archives: relationships

Being Connected – Cannot Be Anything Else.

One of the key tenants of the school of philosophy to which I vaguely give allegiance (Existentialism) argues effectively that there is no such thing as the “autonomous individual” – that all Being is intrinsically  “Being-In-Relation”.

At the heart of every one of our cells is that truth – our dna is half the code of one human that is “in relation” with half the code from another human.  At our chemical core we are a community of two but also the expression of a community of survivors stretching back roughly three billion years.

Being-In-Relation.   That is our Being.  Intrinsically connected.  Our development from newborn to adult requires connection – the quality of the connection we are given has a powerful impact on how we develop and how much of our genetic potential is undermined or supported and released.

In strange ways we are also in relationships with our self.

We are “self aware” – we are aware that we are thinking, we even “watch” or “listen” to our self think.   Have you ever thought about how wonderful and strange that is?   If I am listening to my self think,  who is the “I” who is listening?  Of course some argue that this is just a verbal trick and that the grammar we use to construct such sentences mislead us into thinking some actual reality is being expressed, when it is not.  Huh,  personally I am not convinced by that argument, but I can’t disprove it either. 🙂

If we are lucky we get to share connection with awesome people who inspire us, feed us, enrich us and empower us.

It is a nice moment when someone experiences ME as the person who inspires, feeds, enriches or empowers THEM.  It is never expected but it is truly sweet and wonderful when it happens.

Being-in-Relation  is not a one way flow – we are all part of an astonishingly complex web of relationships, we are putting our gold out into the web, where it flows far out of our sight, and the gifts that others have released into relationships far from us come to us humble, nameless and no less enriching for that anonymity.

Our different cultures will probably have many similar but different and different but similar  models and concepts of how to relate together.   When I travel, this is one of the areas I am always curious about – so much to learn about what is possible for me as a human by watching those who are not like me.

Peace,

Mikel.

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one day at a time…still

Hi, everyone. This is my very first posting here. Thanks to Mikel & David for allowing me to enter the fold, so to speak. I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Alma. I’m a 36 year old, single woman living in Denver, Colorado (soon to be the Bay Area). I’m an INFP and HSP as well. I wanted to chat with you guys about my weekend. I had planned on writing about something else, but I guess this relates–so I’m going to start here and meander into my original idea next time. As an introvert, I relish being alone. I mean–to me–there are few better things. My mother used to brag about how I always kept myself entertained. I was always off in my inner world. But I am also a person of extremes. When I do something, I don’t do it halfway. I do it to excess. I’ve joked a lot about how I’m a hermit. If given an opportunity, I can go long stretches of time without speaking to a single soul–and be quite happy about it. Over the last month or so, I’ve had that opportunity. My roommate is living between here in Denver and in the Bay Area while he finds us an apartment out there. So, I’ve been here alone, mostly–herding cats. It’s actually been really good for me. It’s been years since I’ve been able to let it all hang out. Living with another person, I’ve had to modify my behavior a lot, and it’s been nice to just be by myself once I’m done with work. Around the same time all of this happened, I quit my job that I hated and took on a new job with a great company in my industry. It’s the same kind of work, but different in its expectations. My job is kind of an introvert’s nightmare. While I work from home (win!), I also have to talk on the phone ALL DAY LONG. I’m in an industry of extroverts, and I’m expected to perform all day long. Part of my job–a big part–is getting people to talk to me. I make a lot of outbound calls. And I have to bug people all day. To say it’s exhausting is putting it mildly. I enjoy it, but–when people are being…well…people, it can be the most thankless job in the world. In any case, this past week was rough. I had volunteered to help on a nightmare project. No one was calling me back. People were piling on the pressure, and I was just getting fed up. I like being left alone, but I hate being ignored. And it seemed like I was getting it from everywhere. Work, people helping me with personal things, and friends not responding to me. Now, I don’t really react well to such situations. It’s childish, really. My response is usually to get really angry and basically to mentally make a note to ignore the person ignoring me–ad infinitum. Of course, I can’t do that with work. But I can do it with everyone else. Ignore me–I’ll ignore you so much, you’ll be erased from my memory altogether! Or so, the self-talk goes. It doesn’t last long. But it does produce massive hurt feelings in me. People usually aren’t even ignoring me. In my crazy brain, I’ve somehow made myself the center of the Universe. And–surprise–I’m not! Ha. People are just living their lives. Or they can’t respond for whatever totally valid reason. Or there’s noise in the channel we’re swimming in. Or no one got the damn text. It all gets explained, and I forgive. Easily. The problem, of course, is that I jump to conclusions about people and their care for me. I make it about my worth to them. It fails my expectation for our relationship–and instead of them just being busy or held up–it’s about how much I mean to them. So, a lot of times, when my needs aren’t met–I find that I’m really angry. And it’s all based in my own lack of self-worth. I know–this is heavy for a Sunday. But it gets better, I promise. I learned this stuff in childhood. These toxic coping mechanisms that allow me to push people away while also wallowing in rage. These things that reinforce the idea I have–if only sub-consciously–that I am not good enough to deserve basic respect or love. That my needs don’t matter, fundamentally. It’s an insidious, sick dance I do. And I mostly don’t even know it’s there. Recently, I started to notice it. A lot. Mostly because I noticed I’ve been depressed for a little while now–since having emergency surgery. I’ve been hermitting ever since–tricking myself into the too busy for social stuff lie–while keeping most of my friends at a distance. Getting mad at people for pressuring me to hang out when they never said happy birthday. Finding ways to isolate and control relationships by withdrawing emotionally. I didn’t even know I was doing it. But this stuff also goes hand-in-hand with my perfectionism and anxiety. All of a sudden, I was having crises of confidence about things I am so secure with. It’s been going on for months. But this week, I suddenly became aware of all of it. And it was because I started telling myself, “I’m never speaking to him again.” I’ve been in therapy for about a year now–working on these things. I recognized this avoidant behavior. When everything in my body tells me to run away and not let people in, I know that’s the time when I most need the people who love me. And I realized that I missed people. Like soul-achingly missed them. And I was the reason we hadn’t talked. So, I started reaching out to the people who love me–to the ones who never write me off–to the people who see all the goodness in me, in spite of myself. And I told them I sucked, and I missed them. And we talked. I’ve done it all weekend, and it felt so good to not keep my distance. I talked so much that I almost legit lost my voice. I feel like–little by little–I’m finding my way to the life I need. It means reprogramming my brain, in many ways–doing the opposite of what my life has taught me to do. I have to remember to keep reaching out, no matter how hard it is. It matters.

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