Bargain Basement Love

My sister and I were laying out in the back yard. It was a beautiful 72 degree day and the sun was bright. We were laying on our towels in our bathing suits, feeling like teenagers, when “ I don’t feel I bring anything to a relationship now that I don’t have the big income” came out of my mouth. A Freudian slip? Perhaps. But, it got me thinking.

I have always felt “better” [meaning in control] when my spouse needed my income to get by. And every one of them needed my income. I have always been the stable one. The one with good credit. The one that pulled my weight. The one with bail. The one to raise your kid. The one to pay the bills. I always knew I was the one that you needed but I hadn’t realized that you needed my income. Maybe I was never attracted to a man of means because I wouldn’t have the power in that relationship.

I was chatting with a friend of mine, I’ll call him David. He is now in his mid 50s with 20 something boys. After 26 years of marriage he divorced his wife and now lives on his own. His ex is sick and he takes care of her when she’s in the hospital and when she’s not. She needs him to take care of her physically, emotionally and financially, she always has. That’s probably why she married him and why he stayed the extra 21 years after their relationship was over. He hasn’t really liked her since then but she needs him.

Another client, Roy, has a 14 year marriage, three boys and a wife that says she totally loves him. In their relationship it’s obvious she feels loved when he gives her things. She has more diamond rings than fingers, a closet full of coach purses and a pile of pretty gifts in the garage. He calls her names behind her back describing her mean and negative demeanor with disgust and repulsion. “We don’t do anything together” he complains and he feels neglected and used.

I know I do the same thing. I remember with Roland, I bought him a gold necklace for Christmas. It was a stretch for my budget at the time but, I thought he would like it. He liked it so much he made me return it and get a nicer one for him. I was the provider of that relationship. He wanted pretty things and I could do that for him but, I resented it. Why wasn’t it enough? Why wasn't I enough? And why couldn’t I just say “no” that’s what I got you and if you want something else you’ll just have to upgrade it yourself.

Some people live their whole lives in these relationships. My grand parents and parents did.

For me, this type of relationship feels sick, dysfunctional, painful and I used to stay in them.

If relationship is a negotiation then what was I bargaining for?

I traded my financial stability for his staying with me.

I felt important when I provided and they felt important when they got stuff.

What I really wanted was someone that adored me but what I got was someone that needed me.

The irony of the whole thing is that I thought I was the one that needed them - hmmm.

I grew up with crazy...but, we called it normal

I was chatting with a friend of mine last night. She lived with an out of control addict for 20+ years. Her kids got into recovery when they were 8 and 10. For years they begged for her to leave the "bastard". After more than 10 years of recovery my friend was finally strong enough to get a divorce. By then the kids were grown. Now the grown kids; also known as Adult Children, the same kids that could see the dysfunction in their parents, are recreating their early childhood patterns in their adult lives. Both of the "kids" married alcoholics.

They had already walked through that pain and trauma of childhood and survived, why would they choose all of that suffering for themselves?

For me, it's so much easier to see someone else's crazy behavior than it is to see mine. I don't even realize what I do. If I could have seen my crazy behavior from outside the fog of emotion and reaction of the moment, I am sure I was the one that looked totally nuts. I remember having a conversation with a friend about my mom's death and I smiled at an inappropriate time - a signal that I was getting significance from my mom's murder - and I didn't realize I had smiled. I was so disconnected from my emotions that it took the guidance of a friend to know that about myself.

I grew up with crazy and recreated crazy as an adult. I watched my parents fight and get divorced and then my mother's murder. My dad was a narcissist - totally unaware of anyone's needs but his own - so I modeled that "love" by marrying addicts. When I was in my early 30s I was in an abusive relationship. It was a power struggle just like my parent's rocky relationship. I remember thinking - clear as day - this is the man that will kill me. Just like it was having lunch on Friday. I expected to live - and die - the same life of my parents.

I read about this goose that was separated from it's mom while it was just an egg. A kind helpful human incubated the egg and when the chick was born it imprinted on the person. It called the person "mom". That goose ALWAYS walked upright like a person vs waddling like a goose. That was it's model for the world and it didn't even realize that it's not "supposed" to walk that way. That's how I was before I got into recovery, I didn't even know that love doesn't hurt, being hit or called names or stony silence is abuse, or that God's wish for me is perfect happiness.

Safe Love

Last night there were thunder storms. My 9 year old chocolate lab, Rebel, was right beside the bed. Looking for comfort from his mama. I gave him kisses and he laid down right next to the bed. Head between paws, he looked up to see if I was watching. "It's ok, I am right here, go back to sleep" I watched as he looked at me and slowly his eyes closed. He's a sweet safe love.

He loved me before I loved him. I saw it in his eyes and still I held back. How could I give my heart to this animal. He's going to die before me and that would kill me. I justified; he just loves me because I feed him. But I knew that was just a game I was playing. That fear stuff creeping in. OK, he loves me. More than he loves food or having his tummy rubbed. Sure his heart is pure. Sure - but I could get hurt. Could I risk being hurt?

Today I look back at my fear and I laugh. The love of a dog is about the safest love there is! Even beaten dogs love their masters,unconditionally. Just like beaten children love their parents. It's a deep bond. Love and pain all mixed together. Some kids break from this crazy making but many grow up to do the same thing to their kids. Expecting unconditional love from their kids because it's a safe love.

I always picked men that needed me. That I had some control over. The men didn't make me feel safe but the control did. I knew #1 wasn't divorced so, I got that one annulled when I needed to. I had a built in out.

#2 wanted to get married for years. All I would give was a one year option. I really didn't like him that much but we shared the bills and the bed and it was OK. We renewed that option for five years until Aaron came. Then there was a purpose higher than myself and when Aaron's therapist said it would be better for Aaron if we were married. I married him. I was pledging my love to the kid, not the man, and the kid needed me. Not much risk in loving a kid.

#3 loved me unconditionally. He made me feel safe. I could see the rest of my life in his smile. I still loved him conditionally, though. He was an addict and I was afraid he'd go back out. I told him if he ever used again, I would leave. I thought it was a way to keep him from using. Instead he tested my love and addiction lured him to another's bed. I know he still loves me but our paths no longer intersect.

Today I interview my men like I interview a job applicant;

1) Can he do it? Does he light me up? Does he have the skill? Does he have the muscle? Can he be honest? Vulnerable? Do I know his heart? Does he have the heart of a lion or a gopher? Can he challenge me? Can he show up? Will I need to carry him or can we carry each other? Is he my rock?

2) Will he do it? Does he adore me? Does he value relationship? Is that part of his plan? His purpose? His vision? Will he grow with me? Are our values aligned? Are we greater together than apart? Do I open around him or close?[When I am with someone that lights me up I chatter. If I notice myself being quiet, I need to ask myself why]

3) How will he fit into my life? Do my friends like him? Is he great at a party? Can he handle my exes? Can I handle his? Does my life open or close with him in it? Can I see myself growing old with him? Do his kids adore me? Do I live to light him up?

Today there is plenty of safe love in my life. Family and friends and boys. They support me and love me and it's great connection. We pass the time and it's pleasant. The world is good but it's not in technicolor. Today I want to risk it all. Today I want to be scared shitless. To live. To love. A love that's not safe or guaranteed but a love that makes the day brighter, the wind smell of jasmine and my heart pound.

Accepting unacceptable behavior

I've been beaten, I've been raped, I've been tortured, I've been abused. My daddy's
"perfect family" taught me that these things are just part of being a family. It's ironic that my mother's father left when she was four and my grandmother raised my mom and aunt by herself. You'd think that that side of the family - the unacceptable side - would be more abusive. The "perfect" side of my family - the intact family with the football star and the cheerleader - was the side that hid the bruises, cruelty and the pedophilia. To make matters worse, my perfect family called this behavior love.

Both of my grandfather's were alcoholics. Both of my parents were Adult Children that lived with unacceptable behavior and called it "normal", even love. That's why, when my father was cruel to my mother, she took it and hid it from the kids. That's why, when he began beating her, she tried harder and took responsibility for his actions.

In the dysfunction, the perpetrator is never responsible for his own actions - everyone else is. "If I hadn't talked back, if I got better grades, if I was thinner, if I was more beautiful, if I just accept him as he is then he will love me. The victim eventually believes that it is they that are unlovable. It's their fault that no one loves them.

When my dad murdered my mom, he was not responsible. He "felt like an animal in a cage and she just kept poking at him" he "had to do it to protect himself". Each one of the kids - age 7-13 - took responsibility for mom's murder. I should have been there to protect her, my brother knew something was wrong but when he realized that a gun was gone he didn't know what to do - he was 11, my sister opened the door to let my dad in. We shouldered the blame and guilt but the murderer did not.

After the murder, we were expected to go and visit my dad. We were expected to love him after he had taken away the only warm ray of love in our lives. We never talked about why he was in jail. We just pretended that everything was "normal". We tried our best to look perfect.

The perfect house in Almaden was sold. Our things were boxed up and stored at my grandmother's house. There was no debriefing, no accountability, no discussing how to handle things. That whole part of our lives was "removed" and we moved forward.

When boyfriends were selfish I had had worse - my father was the ultimate narcissist so it actually felt familiar. Not good but familiar. When money was taken out of my purse, I put up with it. When my head was slammed into the tile bathroom floor, I took it. I thought I was being loyal and proving my love by staying.


My kid used to get attention by behaving badly. Bad attention was better than being invisible. I did the same thing in relationships. Being seen was preferable to not being seen at all. If I was slapped across the face, I was definitely being noticed. There was even an excitement to being able to get someone's attention to that level. I was so sick.

I have been alone for seven years now. Drama, abuse and cruelty are not part of my life.

When I moved into my apartments in Dallas I was again faced with the power struggle. One of my tenants - a drug addict - had taken on the "alpha" position. Much like the alpha dog, he had chosen my apartments as his territory and had pee'd all over it. He was unpredictable and he had everyone on edge. I noticed the old power struggle energy, I noticed my wanting to knock him off his pedestal. Today I make a different decision. Today I can let that go. It takes two to have an argument and I chose not to argue. I set the rules. I was firm and he chose to move on. Today that drama is unacceptable. Today I choose what behavior is acceptable to me. Today I choose happiness.

Being Butch

I grew up a tomboy - I loved to run around outside because it kept me out of the house. I was tough and strong and no one wanted to play with me. I didn't have any friends but my brother did so, I tried to hang out with my brother's friends. Being pre-adolescent boys, they wanted nothing to do with me. They tried to get rid of me by hiding and avoiding me. When I did find them they threw rocks at me to keep me away from them. I just made a game of dodging rocks that were thrown at me. I was willing to put up with anything to be accepted. I don't think I ever got hit but they eventually let me hang out with them. A little.

The friend I had at school was my friend because I beat up a boy for her. They were teasing her because she wore glasses and I scared him into leaving her alone.

I learned to excel in school - I got awards for things like reading the most books - and I got attention for doing well at first. Then it became expected and this little rush of attention became a lifetime burden.

I had a few boyfriends along the way - cute 6th grade crushes and that sweet Drew boy that played the electric guitar and sang to me. We made out in the back of his pinto wagon and neither one of us knew what to do. Then my mom was murdered.

Murder changes everything. I replaced my childhood innocence with tough armor that kept everything out. A few months after her death and my 14th birthday I chose a 21 year old stoner boy to initiate me into womanhood. He was weak, he was stupid and he thought I was hot.

Since then it's been a stream of weak men. I remember when I told #2 "I can't do this anymore". I was asking for help, for some promise of something changing but what I got was "I know how you are when you make up your mind so how do you want to do this."

For a woman, that is like death. That is so weak and pathetic. We were together for 9+ years shouldn't I get more than "you've made up your mind"? How about "I know we've grown apart", "we still care about each other what can we do to fix it" or even " I know we've become different people but I'll always love you". Reach down between your legs and make sure they're still there! Just show up just a little bit!

Today the guys that show up are great guys. They have good values and honor me...and we become friends. They were attracted to my energy and my strength because they needed me to be their anchor. Sorry boys, I am not interested in being your anchor. Sure, I can be there for you but you have to show up enough to be there for me, too. If you want to be My Man you have to show up in spades. My man can weather my storms. He smiles right through them knowing that the sunshine is coming. He would never say "you've made up your mind".

Last night I was reading in bed when a girlfriend called. She's doing some real estate and we chatted about that then she asked me about her guy friend. He's in a divorce and he's bending over backwards to not have conflict and to make his ex very happy with the settlement. Which my friend really hates because it will affect her income for the next 5+ years. I told her that pleasing was a very feminine attribute. To which she replied " Oh, I am definitely the guy in the relationship. I am OK with that." "Well then, I replied, why are you mad that his ex is the guy in his last relationship?"