Another Damn Life Lesson

All my life, I thought it was a virtue.  Parents pushed it, rewarded it, praised it.  Friends, colleagues respected it.  Our country reveres it.  Independence.  Family folklore is that I came home one day from second grade and announced that I no longer wanted or needed help with my homework.  Independence.

If one of the kids asked my dad what a word meant, he'd point to the dictionary or encyclopedia and maybe help you look it up.  More likely, he'd sit and wait until you figured it out on your own.  Fostering independence, a presumed virtue.

On a first date eons ago, the guy asked me to describe myself using only 10 adjectives. I should have said "difficult and done", but I didn't. I don't remember the 10, but I'm confident "independent" was near the top of the list.  A virtue.  I was proud of it.
Same guy, long past the first date, told me I was several standard deviations from the mean for independence in women.  (Yes, I dated a guy who talked like that).  But again, I felt complimented; I'm sure I said "thank you".

Independence. It enabled me to run a pretty high risk company; it meant I could tromp around Europe, Asia, and  the Middle East with a sister or two; land in the scary Cairo airport in the middle of the night. I can buy a house by myself. I could make myself dive again the day after my scuba equipment failed 118' down in Belize's Blue Hole.  I could go to Law School at 50.

But then, the bubble burst.  After Sudden Cardiac Arrest, we examine everything.  Last week, I read something on independence as an expression of fear.  That we create an armor with independence - we fend people off with it.  "Independence" is code for "I don't trust people" or "I don't trust that I am valued enough that people will be there when I need them".  We announce in hundreds of ways that we don't need people.  That what we are actually saying is "I don't deserve people".
Is this why I have always found it excruciating, nearly physically painful, to ask for help? The reason I would much rather pay someone to do something than ask for help?  Because I don't believe I deserve the help - they must  have something better to do?

All of a sudden, my self-talk and self-image went haywire.  Independence can be a bold expression of a deep belief in unlove-ability?   Bizarre.  Planet gone wobbly again. Is this frigging TRUE?  Argh.

Uh-oh.  Then I look back at my men through this lens. Uh-oh.  Perhaps we make this prophecy come true; we prove that we are, in fact, unlove-able---- by choosing to engage with the hands-down winner of the "emotionally unavailable" contest - the alcoholic.  And I have engaged with more than one, more than two, more than....  Trust me, you will always come in second.  Every single time - second.

I  must say I am getting pretty damn tired of all this food for thought, all these life lessons.
Difficult and done indeed.

Getting the life back - one drive at a time

Another milestone!

One of the most inconvenient things about the SCA (aside from the heart stopping thing) was that I was not permitted to drive for 90 days. Me being me, I was utterly compliant. I got behind the wheel of my car one day to put it in the garage (from the driveway).

It is trying, dependence. I hired a driver for appointments and some errands, but am just too cheap to have engaged him for things like "take me to the beach and watch me walk there for 30 minutes". I was lucky to have a pretty steady stream of visitors who were very generous with their time, but still ---- I also relied heavily on my new friends (I had only lived in Wilmington NC for 2 1/2 months when the SCA happened) --- I went anywhere someone would take me. And happily, I live in an area that is not just conducive to bike-riding, it is spectacular.

All that said, it is still so difficult to just not be able to go where you want to go when you want to go. And to go NOWHERE alone. Saturday, my sentence was up and I drove, drove, drove all day. I laughed with a friend that night that it was the first time I got into a car in 3 months without having to say "Hello".

Having spontaneity back and independence back are so liberating. It is joyous and marks yet another huge step in getting my life back. Or crafting my new life, as the case may be. (In the middle of all this, I ended a very long term relationship with the gentleman in my life - he has his demons who sadly seem to have won out; I can't live with those demons, so poof! he is now out of my life --- that process took months, so it is a huge relief to have that done as well).

I am so grateful for every one of these steps - from having survived the SCA against the 98% odds to regaining the exercise level - to even getting the MD to OK some scuba --- and now - driving . Gratitude is a powerful word, but it falls short here.