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Tales from the Red Couch

Barb & Allan

TIGHTROPE

Stevie Ray Vaughn

Caught up in a whirlwind can't catch my breath

Knee deep in hot water broke out in a cold sweat

Can't catch a turtle in this rat race

Feels like I'm losin' time at breakneck pace

Afraid of my own shadow in the face of grace

Heart full of darkness spotlight on my face

There was love all around me but I was lookin' for revenge

Thank God it never found me would have been the end

We've been walkin' the tightrop tryin' to make it right

Walkin' the tightrope every day and every night

Walkin' the tightrope bring it all around

Walkin' the tightrope from the lost and found

Walkin' the tightrope stretched around the world

Walkin' the tightrope save the boys and girls

Walkin' the tightrope let's make it right

Walkin' the tightrope do it do it tonight

When we fall in love, and there is mutuality of feeling and desire, the rewards of that relationship seem obvious. But when the relationship dies and hearts are crushed or broken, it is harder to see the benefits that can be potent catalysts for growth. Barb shared this story of her relationship revelation that literally changed her life. If one can get beyond the hurt of a failed relationship and be open to patterns of meaning, it is possible that the gift being offered by a lover is unexpectedly transforming. We sat in Barb‘s cozy living room watching the cold rain slide down the windowpanes in a sheet that distorted our view of the world. We commented on the interesting metaphor, knowing that perception filters the experience of reality through distortions created by wounding.  There is no solid, concrete reality, only personal interpretation of it. We sat on the floor, supported by large pillows, sipping tea.  Barb stabbed at the keyboard of her laptop in a halfhearted effort to review profiles on Match.com until she started to speak.

“This is exactly the way it started.  A little over a year ago I had been searching the data base of possible matches and ran across Allan. His picture grabbed my attention. It looked like it was taken at a dinner party and clearly others had been cut out. I was curious who they were and what had happened. The profile ran on with every clichéd poetic image ever invented, obviously designed to lure a woman in by appealing to every romantic longing. Aside from that, there was something I found intriguing. It is really amazing how my brain can be so rejecting when some other part of me urges me forward.

Anyway, we winked, exchanged a few emails, then phone calls. The usual routine. No red flags flapped in my face so I agreed to meet him. We arranged to meet outside his therapist’s office building. Not exactly romantic, and for many a turn off, but I considered it a positive aspect of Allan’s character that he took care of his psychological health. I never asked why he was in therapy and have since made a mental note that it might be a good idea to check on that in the future.  I waited on the hot summer sidewalk, nervously picking at my cuticles and pacing. I was early, I am always early, which just gives me more time to fret. Would I like him? Would he like me? As I was fretting, I failed to notice a tall, nice looking man had appeared and was standing near by.

“Barb?”

“Allan! I would know you anywhere!” I lied. He didn’t look like his picture, but unlike some meetings, that wasn’t an entirely bad thing.  He was taller than I expected, grayer, clean-shaven and dressed casually in a black shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbow and well worn jeans (the male version of the little black dress). We shook hands, and he expertly steered me by the elbow down the street.

“I thought it might be nice to sit and have a cold drink while we talk. Do you mind?”

Not waiting for my answer, he lead the way to a small bistro that had seating outside on a deck with a semi-tacky Tuscan motif. We settled in and Allan waved over a waitress that seemed to know him. I wondered silently if he met all his Match dates here and he compares notes with the waitress afterward.  My nerves jangled as I fumbled with my purse, trying to find someplace to put it that wasn’t awkward or in the way. He seemed cool and comfortable, like he had done this a million times before and always with great success. Damn, I hate these first meetings and would much prefer fast forwarding to the comfortable familiarity that time together affords. God, I was thinking about time together before I even got to know this man. I made myself breathe. 

I ordered a cold Corona from the waitress he referred to as “darlin’” and Allan ordered an iced tea. Small talk commenced, leading to another drink and then the invitation to dinner. I accepted and we walked down the street to a quiet Italian restaurant that Allan swore had the best scampi on the planet. The heat and the beer were getting to me, so the cool dark interior mixed with the aroma of Italian cooking was very welcome. He seemed to have everything figured out. I relaxed and let him lead. I let him lead me through dinner and then back to my house and into my bed. That was how it started. The middle of our relationship wasn’t especially note worthy, mostly pleasant. Allan had everything planned down to the minute and I always felt a little uncomfortable. He took great care of me, like an orchid on his windowsill, but I never really felt he cared.

Six months later found us in a quiet, rational stage of letting go. No scenes, no ranting, nothing but opening our fingers and letting what we had run through them. Letting go of the dream and the hope that this would be the relationship we both wanted was harder than letting go of each other. It happened unexpectedly for me. I thought we were perking along fine, getting into our own personal routine, when something shifted.  It snapped like a dry twig cracking under my foot. Something changed. Thinking back, neither of us seemed very invested in the other. He became distant, less emotionally available. I felt abandoned and refused to admit it, adjusting myself, because that is what I do.

After one particularly lukewarm weekend together, I opened the conversation.

“We either want this relationship or we don’t Allan.” I spoke slowly and carefully from my side of his bed. He was silent and I didn’t push him. My body felt the sickening feeling of knowing what’s coming while my brain refused to acknowledge it.  I remember slipping out of the bed, padding on bare feet to the bathroom, where I did normal things like brushing my teeth and washing my face. When I slipped back between the sheets Allan was already feigning sleep.

In the morning I packed up my things, kissed him on the cheek and drove away. No words said, just that heavy, lingering feeling of disappointment.

An email waited for me when I got home confirming my fear. We were finished. He was sorry. There was nothing wrong, just a lot that wasn’t right. I agreed although being the one left behind, the one not chosen, stung badly.

Pain crushed me, which I found surprising considering the lukewarm nature of the relationship.  Every loss reminds me of other losses and they tend to pile up, I rationalized. Yet the feeling I was having seemed familiar, difficult to define, and way more important than just another loss. What was this about?

It took some time and help from my therapist, to realize that the situation with Allan brought back my greatest childhood pain, the perfect storm of experience, wounding and awareness. I was first born, special, adored and indulged until my brother arrived on the scene when I was four. Suddenly, my world came to an end and I was persona non grata, too old to need love, to big to be held, too much trouble. I remember feeling as if I was alone in the world. The betrayal of being loved so much and then to be demoted to an annoying obligation was painful and infuriating. My four-year-old body literally shook with rage that I could do nothing about. My brother and I fought, he becoming the victim and I the bad big sister. Even now in our mature adult years we still play it out and our parents support that ridiculous reality. I wish I had a dollar for every time my mother has asked me what I did to him this time!

The break up with Allan came at the perfect time in my life to help me see how I habitually attempt to regain my “special” position as the one chosen.  What better arena than dating! Men that loved and cared about me, which was what I thought I wanted, couldn’t hold my interest. But a man that loved another, whether they were together or not, was absolutely irresistible.  Allan had fallen deeply in love with a woman who had left him and his confession that he might never find that kind of love again was all my unconscious needed to hear.

When I was young I saw how my brother worked my parents with his good, kind child persona, often gleefully setting me up to take the fall. That observation combined with the fact that I had some not so positive experiences as a spiteful, angry kid helped me decide that being nice was the way to get what I needed. It was a ploy, a seduction and a means to an end. If it worked for my brother it would work for me. Now I can remember that decision clearly as a turning point.  Life went on and I apparently tucked the wounding, and that decision carefully into my unconscious where it could influence me without interference. I really didn’t have a clue how this affected my life until the breakup with Allan. My unconscious mission was to seduce the world with my goodness, doing whatever it took to get lovers, employers, and friends to choose me over the other. I cringe when I think of how ruthless I was at times. Allan had been searching for the love of his life and I was driven to be that special person. When that didn’t happen, it brought me to my emotional knees, a surrender point that thankfully, with help, is freeing me from a destructive and painful pattern.

The more I explore this, the clearer it becomes; my childhood was being replayed over and over again.  My inner four year old was running my life, trying to get needs met that had long ago reached their expiration date.  The motivation behind my drive to seduce others and the crushing pain when they didn’t give me what I wanted, was clear.  On the other side, there were times when my ploy worked and I was chosen, but the expected thrill, the pleasure I remembered as a child, wasn’t there as I imagined it would be.  I wasn’t four anymore.

This scene played over in my life in so many different ways, pain on top of pain, betrayal and disappointment.  So much of how I related to everyone came from that unconscious childhood hurt.  It seems so simple and obvious now. Tears of recognition, grief and acknowledgment flowed and a lot of my anger dissolved. Once I understood, the pieces fell into place and this gift continues to offer me new awareness. 

I was so excited to have this new awareness that I called Allan to tell him about it. He didn’t really get it and that was actually ok with me. I feel liberated for the first time in a very long time, and can make new choices without being locked into the old unconscious patterns. Halleluiah! That is the gift that being with Allan gave me and I am so grateful. Since then, my relationships are more honest and authentically loving, and even though I still have the wounding from childhood it doesn’t control me any more. I know what it is when I feel it and make choices that come from a deeper awareness. I am still looking for that relationship, and I know that each man I date, each foray I take into love, will offer me more awareness of who I am if I pay attention.  Believe me, I am paying attention!”

Your invitation to Explore:

I have always believed that if you line up 10 attractive people of the opposite gender and ask a person to choose the one they are most attracted to, there would be a lot more going into that selection than appearance. The psyche and spirit has an intention to keep us on a growth track.  When growth prompts us to be stronger, more fully present and in contact with others without fear, we feel competent, confident, and strong. Relationships are a primary tool for accomplishing that.  People are hard wired to select the perfect person to urge them toward that personal growth. Working with our experiences, growing with them, is liberating and creates healthy, conscious relationships with others and also with the self.

1. Make a list of the important relationship(s) you have been in.

2. Close your eyes, and sit quietly, bringing each relationship, one at a time, to mind and heart. Recall what happened, how you felt, what you thought, how they ended and anything else that rises to the surface of your awareness.  Let what ever wants to come lead you to the next piece.  Try not to force or interpret…let the experience unfold and perhaps surprise you. Jot down a few notes if it is helpful for you. Repeat this experience with all the relationships on your list. It may not be possible to do this all in one sitting so take as much time and space as you need. When you are ready, go to the next step.

4. Look for patterns and new awareness. Are these experiences similar? How? In light of what you remember and feel from your exploration, be curious and open to new ways of being with yourself and others. What are the questions that come up? Allow your curiosity to lead you. What are you feeling emotionally? What does it mean to you? How does it feel in your body?

5. What have you learned about yourself as a result of this experience? How might it change the way you relate? Think? React?

6. Repeat this exercise as often as is useful. Each time take it deeper and be open to the unexpected.  Notice the effect it has on your life and how you relate to others. Get support from a healer, or other therapist if you get stuck.

 Tales from the Red Couch ©2010 by Hillary Gauvreau. All rights reserved. May not be used without written permission from the author.