I decide EmergingVoices:I Listening to the voice in my head
Ginny Belden-Charles and Marcia Hyatt
It is hard to look down and acknowledge what we are doing is not working. And even if someone points it out, we won't see it until we are really ready to look.
by Marcia Hyatt
"Are they too short?" I asked my husband after I put on a pair of pants. He turned from his computer, looked and said, "Yes, they are, so just don't look down and you will be fine."
I was struck by the wisdom and silliness of this advice. It seems silly to tell me something and then tell me to ignore it. So what do I do, pretend I don't know? Well, I have done that before-for clothing and for more important things. I have pretended that everything was OK, when it wasn't. It is easier-or so it seems at the beginning.
One example is dating men who were not interested (or capable) of making a commitment. I used to start each new relationship thinking it would be different for me than the women in their past. It wasn't. Eventually, I could see the insanity of "doing the same thing and expecting a different result" (Rita Mae Brown). I looked down at the pattern and decided to try dating a different type of guy.
I know how hard it is to see for ourselves what is really going on. I watched my friend, as he was putting his third pork chop on his plate, tell me he was going to lose weight. He meant it, but he wasn't looking down at his plate to see the contradiction. It is hard to look down and acknowledge what we are doing is not working. And even if someone points it out, we won't see it until we are really ready to look.
The wisdom of my husband's advice is more subtle. Does it really matter if your pants touch the top of your shoes? It seemed he was asking, 'Who decides if you look OK?' For most of my life, I handed this power over to others. I was pleased to see I have made a little progress.
The other day, I heard about friends getting together. My husband and I were not invited. I was overtaken by that old, familiar junior high feeling of rejection. As the emotion filled the crevices of my being, another little voice came into my head. "You don't have to feel this way. Who decides you are OK? Why do you give them that power?" It was good to catch myself feeling this way and to deal with it right then.
I used to constantly live with a not-good-enough feeling. When did it retreat to the shadows, waiting for a moment of vulnerability to come out and stake its claim again? And how wonderful to have another voice in my head, a wiser one.
It was this new voice in my head that asked "How do you like the pants?" So, I looked down at my short (and tight) pants, decided I did not like how I felt in them. I changed.
