Cinderella runs deep

Still searching for my true identity at this age? Not any more.

Writing a blog and making YouTube videos (more on the way) have been courageous steps for me. Why? Even though I'm an exceedingly open and honest person, there was one thing I always wanted to hide: my self-centeredness. Not that a person can really hide such a thing, but believe it or not, I spent most of my life trying.

Being centered is a virtue. And, in fact, there is really no other way to be centered than around self, but to me self-centered had another meaning. At a young age I dubbed it bad, selfish and exclusionary--as in leaving somebody out on purpose (suspiciously like the portrayal of the mean stepsisters in Disney's Cinderella). I could be nothing of the sort, and had to be the opposite, (Cinderella), because that's what worked to get the prince; or so I thought.

However, through the years I developed a new respect for self-centered behavior. In children. I even teach that establishing a clear sense of self is a good and necessary thing for them to survive and thrive as an individual who is part of a greater whole. It creates problems only when kids feel they have to fight for the right to "be" or prove who they are. When they have established who they are and have a firm grasp on their identity, self-centered is no longer an issue. They can consider other people's wants and needs without feeling like it threatens theirs. We call this maturity.

So recently a new thought popped out: "Sandy, if you are still struggling with being self-centered at this point in your life, you must have a very fragile identity -- still fighting for the right to be you." I got a big nod from myself on that one and knew it was true and important, but I didn't yet know why.

So I consulted my coach, Eva Sim-Zabka, listener extraordinaire. Her unique validation skills were just what this self-centered person needed to figure things out "all by myself." She noticed right away that even though self-centered and exclusion came up at the same time for me, they were not necessarily related. Since being "left out" has a very child-like, physical world ring to it and "self-centered or selfish" is more conceptual, we looked for where they might have first become associated in my childhood; actually more than associated--collapsed.

That was easy. It was age 8 when I moved next door to this one little girl with red hair, braids and freckles. As Eva listened, I recounted the years of our triangular friendships--first with a best friend then later with a first love where this same girl kept being chosen over me. Eva voiced my stifled years of distress and the pattern became clearer--self-centered was always associated with someone being left out.

Seems that when my best friend first invited the red-haired girl over instead of me, I felt left out and decided that for her to take my place with my best friend and not care, the red-haired girl was self-centered like the stepsisters. With that decision, I actually turned her into a mean stepsister in my mind, and lost touch with who she really was.

I also tried to be nicer and more inclusive than her at all costs, (more Cinderella-like), to get my best friend to choose me instead. I remember being puzzled each time my friend chose her and thinking I must just be the wrong person. In effect, right there, I excluded me. Of course, the same scenario came up over and over throughout my life.

Over time, I became quite a martyr. I never allowed myself to feel jealousy or hatred. I worked hard to stay friends with the red-haired girl, and as we grew older even became a mediator between her and the boy I liked to keep them together when they would have fights. Pure Cinderella, or so I thought. But in giving up the right to express what I liked and didn't like, unlike Cinderella, I gave me up.

I sat with that level of awareness overnight, and the next morning I really "woke up." I saw that even though as a kid, I watched the stepsister strategy work better at "getting" the friend than my Cinderella one did, and then later the prince, time and time again I remained steadfast. If my identity had really been fragile, could I have held onto it as firmly as I did with the costs as high as they were? No. As a matter of fact, I couldn't have constructed a better test than that to gain the kind of proof I needed that my identity was not fragile at all. But until now I couldn't see it.

Here's why: saying what I like or want and making choices was off-limits to me most of my life. When I realized that my identity wasn't fragile, I also realized that I chose it. What I mean by that is, I liked my identity. Pure and simple--when I saw Cinderella, I wanted to be like her. It had nothing to do with "getting" the prince after all, or I would've changed strategies when I saw it didn't work. It was actually just that I liked Cinderella and wanted to be like her.

And with that breakthrough, two things happened. I instantly got back the image of the little red-haired girl at age 8 as I first met her--smiling and actually looking like a friend, not a mean stepsister. Plus, I finally got to fully claim who I am. I am nice, inclusive, generous, open and honest because I like to be, not because it works or because I have to be in order to avoid being selfish, but because I choose it.

So now, as it turns out, I find I actually am the person I always wanted to be. I no longer have to fight to protect my fragile identity, I just am. Simple as that.

"Wrong" Finale

I finally got it!!! I'm so excited!!!

Eva Sim-Zabka, my dear friend, colleague and possibility coach, coached me through the final piece of this last night. She is so good!

After my youngest sister was born, we moved, so I can place the creation of this life-long issue at age 8. At that time, I remember lying awake at night terrified. I had never been afraid of the dark or sleeping alone before, and I am sure that by age 8, my fear of going to bed alone would've been dismissed by my parents as unfounded. Still, I remember crawling into bed with my mom sometimes at that house, but have no memories of doing that at any of the other houses we had lived in. (Funny how I never before realized that the nighttime fears started here.)

That was also the period of time when I became unable to ask my Dad for help with homework (math) without bursting into uncontrollable tears. Up until now, I never knew why.

I also remember worrying that my mom & dad might get a divorce. I had probably seen Parent Trap, so I knew what divorce was. It was not very common back then, and I can't imagine having to choose between parents, especially with my need for my dad's approval. My older sister still says she wasn't aware that the folks were having problems. Later, as adults, we learned they definitely were. So, since my room was adjacent to theirs, I must've been close enough to hear them argue at night, but I have no actual memory of anything they said. Still, I can't imagine a kid in the next room missing the tone of voice or the rumbling sounds of anger.

Eva pointed out that since during the day no one talked about it, and my mom & dad pretended everything was fine, I would've felt isolated. That was so true! I'd finally been heard and understood!

Right then I got that's why I have to do everything myself. And if everything (survival) depends on me, I can't be wrong! There it was: "You can't be wrong!" The threatening mandate, or "program" that ran my life until now. And I can see why--an 8-year old kid who can't be wrong? That's so scary! Wrong instantaneously became collapsed with dangerous (wrong =dangerous), and wrong became my biggest fear.

Now, here's how right kids are: Back at that time, I started deliberately opening my curtains at night. That is so symbolic! Even though I was terrified of what might be outside in the dark, I would force myself to open the curtains. It was scary, but I had to know. After I would look, I remained watchful of the window, but could at least go to sleep. As a kid, I knew what I needed--concerning my fear of the night, my fear of divorce, and my fears in life. Now that I get it, I can see that I continued to act out the communication, "I need to know," throughout my life.

No wonder I had to know everything! No wonder I became a fretful perfectionist! No wonder I had to do everything myself! No wonder I had to be right and couldn't stand criticism! No wonder I went into my own world! That's too much power for a kid--dangerous to be wrong!

Crazy. Here I was at the ripe old age of 8--dangerous. No wonder I had a thing about safety! "I" wasn't safe. One of the reasons I married my husband was because I felt safe. It's no surprise I had a focus on safety in my art conservation career and PTA work, and Language of Listening: SAY WHAT YOU SEE and Power Playtime make it safe for kids to "be."

My new thoughts today are: "I am not afraid," and "The only way to be wrong in writing the second half of the SAY WHAT YOU SEE book is not to write it at all."

The threat "You can't be wrong!" shifted to the relief "You can't be wrong!" because that kind of wrong (wrong=dangerous) doesn't exist in the first place. Same words, completely different meaning. Nice!

Wrong 5

Wrong continues to show up in how important it is for me to "make people right." I can't tell you how often I reword my statements, even in short little emails, to avoid any hint of criticism. I've gotten so good at it, that some people think it comes naturally to me. With kids it does, but not with adults. And so what do I do? Teach parents and teachers how to see that kids are always right somehow! And I use extreme acceptance to coach myself through breakthroughs.

Acceptance and right are closely linked to me. I wonder if that's a collapse, too. If right=liking=acceptance=happy, that would be consistent with wrong=not liking=rejection=anger. Why not? I spent most my life with the collapse anger=rejection inherited from my mother whose dementia is revealing all sorts of family belief patterns. Anger=rejection is a big one; she now threatens to push people down when she gets mad at them -- a pretty physical display of rejection. It seems to me that anger and "wrong" are completely tied together in my family. Nothing will tick me off faster than "wrong" things.

Next?

Wrong 4

You should read tchow's response to "Wrong 3:"

"...At this point, there is no concept of 'right'or 'wrong' in one's head. The challenge of deciding between the two is gone and all I'm left with is raw, unaltered and pure experience..."

That's exactly what I would like to do here--provide a public forum for sharing of breakthroughs and insights, and in so doing deepen our insights and generate more breakthroughs like that for us all.

One other thing I would love to know from tchow and you is, "To what do you attribute your insights and breakthroughs?" While I have the same opinion of "right" and "wrong" as tchow, it currently rests as an awareness and requires conscious focus to disregard. Somehow he adapted his realizations to everyday life and now lives from them without effort. It's just how he sees the world. That's a breakthrough.

The best avenue for me is a kind of extreme acceptance and inquiry into how a belief works for me, as I'm sharing in my YouTubes (see sidebar -- more to come next month.) How about you?

Sometimes my unconscious beliefs peek out in conversations with others. For example, a friend just brought up independence. When I started to look at that one today, my first thought was, I don't have an issue with that, but what the heck, I'll look. I am already amazed at the awareness it has brought. And as suspected, it is related to my current line of inquiry into "wrong." So far I can see "wrong" as a super power I use to remain independent, but it's also my Kryptonite. More on that later.

BTW, if you're wondering what this is all about, this blog is far more than a mental exercise (though that's fun, too). It's about creating a world where we all can live together at ease and in mutual support with permission to be as great as we knew we were when we were small children, before "wrong" entered our minds.

Wrong 3

Applying more logic to the collapse equation -- if things have to be wrong for me to not like them, then clearly I believe I have to like everything. Dang-it! It's so true. Just like Betsyyyy said in her comment on the previous entry "Wrong!"

Funny how you can know you think something, but not really know you think it until you see it from another perspective.

Wrong 2

This morning I realized that not only do I not like everything that is "wrong," (of course, how could I?) but it goes the other way, too. Everything I don't like is just plain "wrong."

Here's the equation for the collapsed concepts: not liking = wrong. Interesting how completely true this is for me.

I've got to do a YouTube segment on this.

[Look at that! Mixed fonts. That's just plain wrong!]

Wrong!

I'm working on a new breakthrough around the concept "wrong." So far I've been able to see how it works in relationship to my childhood inability to say what I don't like. If I make something wrong, then I'm justified in not liking it. Ta-Da! That's as far as I've gotten, but I can see it's the core of judgment in my life.

Perhaps it will stir some thoughts in you that you could share, though I have to tell you, this one has been no fun. Everything is showing up "wrong" right now and guess what, "I don't like it!"

Normalizing and Amazing-ing

My new video posted on YouTube talks about how we can make normal things go from gray to amazing. Sorry Ohio--all those years I missed how amazing you really are, but I enjoy you immensely now, every five years when I go back for high school reunions. Especially the trees!

What have you made normal? What have you made amazing?

Efficiently Late

In Nov 2008, I was driving to a meeting, leaving at the time I should've been arriving, as usual. I thought about an example from my childhood I'd just written into my book about always being the last one in the car. What was I trying to communicate with this 50-year pattern of behavior?

I'd gotten as far as understanding that I liked to be prepared. Hearing that from my parents instead of the rhetorical question, “What took you so long?” would have helped, but that wasn't the whole thing.

Neither was my more recent awareness that I like to be efficient. Efficiency explained why I use every last minute to do "just one more thing" before I go and moved me in the right direction but didn't break the pattern. I still felt compelled to do one more thing before leaving. What was that about?

In the car it finally hit me. What I was trying to communicate since childhood was, "I have things I have to do first!" Simple as that. Notice the "have to?” That's what kids say when they think what they want doesn't matter.

But now I can see my real communication to the world has always been: "I have things I want to do first." There it is – breaking through my subconscious after years and years of denial. How better to express that what I want matters than to have it come up as a “have to” just at the time when I’m supposed to leave? It can't be missed when people are waiting.

I hated that, too, by the way. My first thought was always, “Just go on without me.” I never could deal with making people do things they didn't want to do, especially if it was "just" because I wanted something. My deep denial kept me safe from seeing my communication until I was ready to accept that what I want matters.

Now that I get it, I can see it was a brilliant unconscious strategy. When people don't leave or start without you, you get a glimpse that what you want matters. Forward natural movement by tiny increments is better than none at all, but figuring out your communication and SAYing WHAT YOU SEE to yourself works quicker!

You're "only" human

Kids wish they had wings. If birds could wish, first they would wish they could wish, then they would wish for fingers. Interesting that we tend to see our humanity as a limitation, not as a gift.