Olympic Issues

Women in the Olympics have relationship issues too. Here’s one story:

Marta was an ice-skater who fell in love with Bob, a speed skater. But he came too quickly and their relationship ended fast. Next she dated Bill who was a snow boarder but he always came home drunk, refused to dress up, and took risks driving. Next she started seeing Jason who was the ski mogul champ but the relationship was bumpy from the very start. Nothing with him was easy, nothing was ever smooth.

Then Marta met Tubor who was the luge champion. She really liked him but she couldn’t tell if he liked her too. He preferred to be alone and he always seemed to be speeding away from her. She finally started hanging out with Jerry and John, the bobsled team. But they were always together and if she dated either one the other one was always pushing her or egging her on.

One night she went to an Olympic party alone and she watched the crowd. She saw Derk, who was also a skater, twirling around with other girls. She has always assumed he was gay because of the sparkles and the sequins. But here he was in jeans. He was playing and laughing. Even the snowboarders couldn’t upset him. Then she saw a man enter the party with a gun. Everyone looked nervous till they realized it was Jeff from the biathlon who sometimes liked to stop and take a shot—even if he was just shopping or walking down the street.

Marta began to wonder if she should date a summer Olympian—maybe a long distance runner would be the kind of man who could go the distance. Or maybe a hurdler who would have the strength to get over the obstacles that show up in any relationship. Maybe a swimmer? No, she thought, the one she’d dated years before was all wet.

What she realized was the she needed to find a mate who had all these abilities: who was strong and flexible and fast and strategic. She wanted a man who knew that relationships are practice and who would push through disappointments and who could do what he needed to do no matter how he felt. A gold medal man; that was her goal.

Fatal Flaw Progress

Well, two more days to go in my new behavior practice I’m calling “No-Her”. So far so good but it’s not easy. What I’m learning from zipping my lip is that I am very judgmental, very opinionated and just chock full of ideas about how other people should live. This practice of not-saying makes it clear that while I’m not saying certain things I’m thinking them—a lot! Next practice is going to be quieting the voice in my head as well as the one connected to my mouth..

But I have to say, this is progress. This weekend we spent a lot of time with family where “her” was a topic of conversation and I was very worried heading into Saturday—I prepared though and had my strategies. And I prayed. I don’t want to miss that point: I prayed. And there was grace in that the usual chat was limited and I only needed to deflect one time to not be engaged in any gossip. I came home very very grateful.

Stages of Relapse

Every month I review this list of the Eight Stages of Relapse. It’s a kind of mini-inventory or mental tune-up and reality check for me:

1. The beginnings of secret dissatisfaction.

2. Boredom or frustration at home or at work.

3. Relationships change.

4. Return of denial.

5. Emotional drift—away from significant others, friends, AA people, meetings, sponsor.

6. Anger and resentment.

7. Depression and dishonesty.

8. Relapse.

More Practice on My Fatal Flaw

I’m at day 14 of practicing no “Her”—my new behavior to help me to let go of the “fatal flaw”. (See the post here on February 4th).  It hasn’t been easy. I have been able to change what I say but not always what I think, ah, but still. Progress not perfection?

I’m learning some things and here’s my surprise. While I knew all of this intellectually I would not been able to really get it in a visceral way without this experiment –changing MY behavior.

What I’m learning is this: When I focus on “her” or “him” or “them” it distracts me from me. It’s actually destructive—to me! When my attention is over there—“she should” “he shouldn’t” and “he should tell her”—I abandon myself. This is not new—I have been to AlAnon—I read all the self help books—but by keeping my mouth shut I had the chance to experience this.

The temptation of course is that by analyzing “her” and announcing what “he” and “they” should think or do—gives me the heady illusion that I am having some kind of control, but the truth is I am nowhere near myself—I leave me in the dust—when I do that. It’s distracting and destructive. To me. And oh yeah, I’m getting this too: The most selfish and loving thing I can do for me—is to take my attention away from “her”.

Chopin's Heart

Today, February 13th is the birthday of the Polish composer Frederic Chopin. When he died in 1849 his body was buried in Paris. But his heart, at his special request, was placed in the wall of The Church of the Holy Cross in Warsaw.

Where would you like your heart to be when you die?

Where is it now?

Sylvia Plath Bake-Off

Today is the anniversary of the death of poet, Sylvia Plath. In London, February 11th 1963, Plath put her two small children to bed, then turned on the gas stove in her kitchen, stuck her head in the oven and died. She was 30. She was talented. She was celebrated. She was heartsick. She was depressed.

Celebrate Plath today by baking something yummy. Make cookies for someone who loves you. Bake lasagna for dinner. Read a poem. Write a poem. Cherish your life.

Don't Name It

I heard an artist speak this week about making art and how what we think chnages what we see. He was talking about perception, and how thinking distorts what we percieve and hence what we believe.

He said, “The best way to see something is to NOT name it—words stop seeing.”

It’s a challenge but it works...when you look at a tree try to see it with out saying “tree” to yourself or telling yourself all the things you know about trees: green, vertical, growing, leaves, etc. Just see without the words and you’ll see more.

Pretty cool.

Then it hit me; I could try doing the same thing with people. What if I saw him without saying, “boyfriend” or “lover” or “student” or “teacher” or “man” or “mine” or any other words that typically flow thru my head unbidden? What would I see if I looked but didn’t label and didn’t name?