Love Is Life
So I am officially a Yoga teacher.
I was way too busy to write any posts during my month-long Yoga teacher training, and after the training ended... Well, these past few weeks have been packed full for me. Honestly I felt like I had so many thoughts and so many emotions that I would never be able to actually write them out.
I'm going to try anyway.
Lately I've been watching this video series called Homecoming by a man named John Bradshaw. He's in recovery too, and he talks about dysfunctional and addictive family systems. I feel broken open and raw and like I'm standing on stage in front of millions of people with all of my secrets, all of my dreams on display. Bradshaw talks about the rigid roles that people in addictive families fall into... the "hero," the "lost child," the "scapegoat," etc.
Without a doubt my role was the "scapegoat." I was always drinking and doing drugs too much, getting into altercations with the police, making bad grades, not playing tennis or other sports good enough... Basically constantly getting into trouble or disturbing someone or something. I always had a lot "potential" but I never quite got where I was supposed to be. Bradshaw says this role is usually the most sensitive person in the family, the one with the deepest feelings, the deepest hurt, the deepest shame.
To change this role, Bradshaw said to ask myself four questions.
1.) Did I help my family with the role I played?
I don't think I "helped" anyone in the sense that I improved anything. But I believe I distracted my family with my shenanigans enough to keep their relationships together. They could band together in the face of my destruction and ignore their own feelings. I was someone to gossip about, to fix, to save, to work on, to complain about... someone to blame their shitty feelings on. One of the most painful memories I hold is of being around fourteen or fifteen and sitting outside of my parents bedroom. I listened to them gossip and say horrible things about me, things that not even the girls at school that hated me would say. I wrapped my arms around my knees and cried in that dark house, but I couldn't get up, I couldn't stop listening.
2.) What feelings did I have to give up?
As the scapegoat, I could not feel self-love. How could I possibly be proud of myself? What was there to love about me? "Nothing." There was someone I was supposed to be and I was never going to be that. I had no reason to feel anything except for shame. I also couldn't care about others. If I did that, I might have to let them love me. I might have to depend on them, or they might have to depend on me. That would mean opening up, exposing my vulnerable dreams and fears... No way was I going to do that! So, instead, I rebelled. I wasn't going to let anyone get near me. I believed I had nothing to give and love was pain anyway. I had to give up joy and peace. How could I be happy when I was such a bad, incomplete person?
3.) What are the life-damaging consequences?
I was never able to truly love another person, let alone love myself. I could only blame other people for my problems while shaming myself. I couldn't face my feelings, so I turned to alcohol, drugs, food, travelling, shopping and sex to continue the delusion that everything was okay. I have never been able to commit to someone, whether romantically or in a friendship or a business relationship. I've just hated myself and been scared of everyone else for so long. I felt like I had no right to ask for help, no right to depend on anyone. To this day when people are kind and loving to me, I can't help but to cry. Hugs make me cry too. Even just a comforting look and a smile can send me to the edge.
I'm not writing this post to be depressive or negative. But I'm not going to pretend that everything about my childhood was fine and dandy. There were many, many good parts and my family did their best. I am not blaming! But I'm not going to ignore the memories of abuse and continue with the illusion that I sprang from the womb a shameful addict. Addictions are trained and learned behaviors. Someone taught me, and it wasn't the family dog.
So, here I am. A Yoga teacher, a chef, an author, a surfer... a niece, a friend, a lover, a student... I'm becoming who my Higher Power always meant for me to be, and who I always wanted to be... an honest, happy, playful, hard-working woman. Of course I've still got some character defects I'm working on, but I make a little bit of progress each day. I'm practicing new behaviors and new styles. I'm discovering who I am.
I like that word. Discovery. It's the perfect way to describe my new life. I'm discovering that I MATTER, and that other people MATTER too. I'm discovering that it's okay to love. Love is not pain. Love is life.
I was way too busy to write any posts during my month-long Yoga teacher training, and after the training ended... Well, these past few weeks have been packed full for me. Honestly I felt like I had so many thoughts and so many emotions that I would never be able to actually write them out.
I'm going to try anyway.
Lately I've been watching this video series called Homecoming by a man named John Bradshaw. He's in recovery too, and he talks about dysfunctional and addictive family systems. I feel broken open and raw and like I'm standing on stage in front of millions of people with all of my secrets, all of my dreams on display. Bradshaw talks about the rigid roles that people in addictive families fall into... the "hero," the "lost child," the "scapegoat," etc.
Without a doubt my role was the "scapegoat." I was always drinking and doing drugs too much, getting into altercations with the police, making bad grades, not playing tennis or other sports good enough... Basically constantly getting into trouble or disturbing someone or something. I always had a lot "potential" but I never quite got where I was supposed to be. Bradshaw says this role is usually the most sensitive person in the family, the one with the deepest feelings, the deepest hurt, the deepest shame.
To change this role, Bradshaw said to ask myself four questions.
1.) Did I help my family with the role I played?
I don't think I "helped" anyone in the sense that I improved anything. But I believe I distracted my family with my shenanigans enough to keep their relationships together. They could band together in the face of my destruction and ignore their own feelings. I was someone to gossip about, to fix, to save, to work on, to complain about... someone to blame their shitty feelings on. One of the most painful memories I hold is of being around fourteen or fifteen and sitting outside of my parents bedroom. I listened to them gossip and say horrible things about me, things that not even the girls at school that hated me would say. I wrapped my arms around my knees and cried in that dark house, but I couldn't get up, I couldn't stop listening.
2.) What feelings did I have to give up?
As the scapegoat, I could not feel self-love. How could I possibly be proud of myself? What was there to love about me? "Nothing." There was someone I was supposed to be and I was never going to be that. I had no reason to feel anything except for shame. I also couldn't care about others. If I did that, I might have to let them love me. I might have to depend on them, or they might have to depend on me. That would mean opening up, exposing my vulnerable dreams and fears... No way was I going to do that! So, instead, I rebelled. I wasn't going to let anyone get near me. I believed I had nothing to give and love was pain anyway. I had to give up joy and peace. How could I be happy when I was such a bad, incomplete person?
3.) What are the life-damaging consequences?
I was never able to truly love another person, let alone love myself. I could only blame other people for my problems while shaming myself. I couldn't face my feelings, so I turned to alcohol, drugs, food, travelling, shopping and sex to continue the delusion that everything was okay. I have never been able to commit to someone, whether romantically or in a friendship or a business relationship. I've just hated myself and been scared of everyone else for so long. I felt like I had no right to ask for help, no right to depend on anyone. To this day when people are kind and loving to me, I can't help but to cry. Hugs make me cry too. Even just a comforting look and a smile can send me to the edge.
I'm not writing this post to be depressive or negative. But I'm not going to pretend that everything about my childhood was fine and dandy. There were many, many good parts and my family did their best. I am not blaming! But I'm not going to ignore the memories of abuse and continue with the illusion that I sprang from the womb a shameful addict. Addictions are trained and learned behaviors. Someone taught me, and it wasn't the family dog.
So, here I am. A Yoga teacher, a chef, an author, a surfer... a niece, a friend, a lover, a student... I'm becoming who my Higher Power always meant for me to be, and who I always wanted to be... an honest, happy, playful, hard-working woman. Of course I've still got some character defects I'm working on, but I make a little bit of progress each day. I'm practicing new behaviors and new styles. I'm discovering who I am.
I like that word. Discovery. It's the perfect way to describe my new life. I'm discovering that I MATTER, and that other people MATTER too. I'm discovering that it's okay to love. Love is not pain. Love is life.
