Tenderness

I was on the quest of trying to answer my long existing question “What does Lena want?”

It had been a bumpy road from the very start: figuring out that I was actually allowed to have desires, then reaching a milestone of generating ideas of what they could possibly be, and finally hitting the dead-end with “Why can’t I find what I desire?”

I thought, maybe, my poor willpower was somehow connected to the lack of desire in me. It must have been. I struggled to stick to anything I was doing, because I probably didn‘t want it that much to begin with. Burning desire accompanies strong will. I seemed to have lacked both.

Kyle went off , “Here we are again. You can‘t just be, without creating these problems in your head”.

I said, “It’s not really a problem, I’m genuinely curious and puzzled by why I don’t desire anything ”.

“That’s the desire”, he said, “you desire wrongness. Something has to be wrong, or you can’t be”.

After hours of debates, trying to pin down the real culprit on this truth-unraveling quest, we came to the shocking resolution, that I am the one who creates fake problems to run away from the real one: I’m still living in my mother‘s shadow instead of creating my own identity, preventing myself from taking responsibility for my life.

Kyle has always been very good at seeing the root of my issues. His perspective on my troubles has always served as a sobering punch of truth, right in my gut, most of the time heavy to take at first, but I craved it so much, I didn’t care if it hurt. I saw the goal post right in front of me to liberate myself, and that’s where I was heading.

I knew, at first, it‘d be hard to understand, because words don’t mean anything, unless those vocal vibrations touch your inner strings. Even though his thousandth time saying “You desire a problem” was easy to hear and break down into words, it took a lot of spiraling down and going back and forth to process what he really meant by it.

Trusting my husband with all my heart, I knew he held the key to unlock another piece of ripping truth buried deep inside me.

This was again all one and the same journey of me finding the well of my essence, looking down at my own reflection one more time, seeing and reminding myself, who I truly am. A simple task, yet a hard execution.

I kept telling Kyle it had always been the same tale for me: be it refusing to accept responsibility for my life, or constantly complaining, the cause of every challenge I faced was not loving myself.

The well I was looking for was that unconditional self-love and acceptance. That was the place within where I could always reconnect with who I truly was: worthy, loved and happy.

My metaphysical conclusion seemed very simple, however, it had flaws: it never worked. Otherwise, I could‘ve easily found that well any time. That wasn‘t the case. Yet, I wasn‘t aware of it, continuing claiming to my husband, this was in fact the depth of my struggles.

Kyle was very firm assuring me, this depth I presented, was shallow and elusive. He said, my problem was that I was creating fake wells, keeping myself away from the root cause.

Kyle argued, I was desiring a problem, a wrongness, an issue. Every time I was challenged, instead, of admitting my incompetence and learn what I need to change that, I’d rather blame on the situation.

“I can’t love myself because my mom never loved herself”, “Maybe I’m not desiring anything because I’ve always lived for my her and never for myself”, “I can’t be happy, because negativity is my default, always ready for the worst”, and so on.

There always had to be some sort of an issue, that’d keep me away from being free and happy.

My issue was not failing to find WAYS to love and accept myself, but evading from asking myself WHY I didn‘t love or accept myself. I was rambling around desperately looking for the well of unconditional self-love without realizing it didn‘t exist, because my self-love was far from complete or unconditional, it was a murky well, and I was the one to purge its waters.

I was really good at creating reasons why things happened to me, finding new ways to blame the world for stifling my happiness.

Constantly looking for ways not to do much, staying in my comfort zone of ease and familiarity, my mind would conjure these illusionary wells, providing me with the false reflection of who I was, bracing my fake integrity.

My arrogant mind was convincing me I was whole, so there must have been something wrong with the world to explain why I still wasn‘t happy. I was so proud of all the self work I had ever done, yet the reality was, regardless of my pride and check marks, I wasn’t as complete as I thought I was.

Personal integrity doesn’t fake happiness. It happens naturally, it’s never forced.

These illusionary wells were all possible reasons I would come up with to justify my incapability, my weakness.

Kyle saw it. My problem was creating more problems to hide from the truth. And when I told myself “I’m not leaving this conversation until I see what truth I’m hiding”, it slowly revealed itself and unfolded more and more as we were talking.

”You should ask yourself why are you always desire negativity?” He continued, “Why can’t you be happy if there is no problem? Why do you seek problems in order to be?”

I said, “Because my mom was always negative, so I believed by being unhappy for her, she can see I care for her and be happy.”

“Here it is”, he said, “You can‘t live your life, you live your mother’s life. And I’m sorry I have to tell you this, but your mother is dead. Accept it. She has no power over your life anymore. You can‘t get over her death still, admit it. ”

He mentioned this earlier in our conversation. My mind huffed and puffed, refusing to take this insulting remark. It felt degrading to all my precious efforts to heal from grief, devaluing the transcendence of reopening my heart again after years of loneliness and despair following my mother’s passing.

Then I thought, “I never really let her go in my mind. How could I? She was my mom, my everything. How can I let her go for good, if she was all I ever had?”

I wept.

When I told Kyle, I felt lonely if I let her go, he said there was more to it, and he was absolutely right. As I pondered more on why exactly was I still feeling lonely knowing she‘d gone, being surrounded by tremendous support of my family and friends, it hit me even harder.

Tenderness.

The part of me I buried deep down with my mother. That tender, sensitive part of my soul, that blooms like a flower at every kind word or gesture of love. I remembered how sensitive and responsive I am to touch and care, as I felt it so little in my life. I preserved every bead of tenderness from my mother like a treasure, wearing them in a necklace close to my heart: her calling me “zaichyk” (bunny), her gentle smile, a silly way she pinched my eyelid, and her sweet voice that woke me up every morning.

I deprived myself of tenderness I needed to purge my well to feel worthy, loved and happy again. To be myself. I refused to grow up and act like an adult, neglecting the need for self-care. It was easier to complain about how miserable my life was. So this way I always can use my mother as a brace for my incompetence, avoiding taking charge for my life.

This conversation happened right after my massage therapy.

My therapist cared and loved my body for an hour and a half, where I couldn’t provide even a minute of that love to myself. So I’d rather be needy, begging other people to show me care, because I wasn’t capable of showing it to myself. I believed I didn’t deserve it. I only knew myself as the one who constantly suffered, and if she didn’t, she‘d start looking for the issues to get back to that familiar self-loathing pseudo-homeostasis. And that was my “tribute” to my mother: to keep the umbilical cord between me and her, choosing not to be complete without her love.

She is no longer the main provider of that sweet love. Now I owe it to myself.

What I learnt is that it has always been about asking HOW and WHAT questions instead of WHY?

NOT Why can’t I be happy?

BUT How can I take care of myself?

NOT Why does this happen to me?

BUT What do I need to learn?

NOT Why can’t a find the well of my essence?

BUT What can help me find the well?

NOT Why is the water muddy?

BUT How can I purify the water?

The moral is, no one is immune to detours in life. I fell into the trap, I myself preached about before: a cause and effect model of behavior, coming from the place of defeat instead of empowerment.

It’s all about the journey after all, and not perfection.

The well is always there. We refuse to see its muddy waters, as it takes one’s responsibility to tend to it, and tireless expanding of one’s heart to accept its imperfections.

The truth is: our authenticity and integrity is a murky well, and not a crystal clear creek of perfection.

Just gently remind that to yourself.