Love gone....right!

As an advocate for wellness and seeking out the good in people to remedy sickness and dysfunction, pity has overtaken my triage room.  This post will have a lot of metaphors so apologies for the abstraction.  I am gaining the space, clarity, and companionship to realize I am a pretty good lover.  I may not be the best partner, but until I remedy my own restless heartaches, I will continue to need to get up, walk away, and drift around the proverbial relationship dinner table.  It is like if I cannot complete a meal.  It is as if I'd rather reach out and pick from the buffet of desserts, resisting the necessity to sit down have some fresh greens and patiently sip from a scolding cup of chicken noodle soup.  I with respect realize that the chef has plenty to contribute to this dinner, I have unfairly  to myself induced unnecessary suffering for experiences that really have been reasons to celebrate.

I am dreaming again, and my dreams remind me of my romantic heart, my compassionate ears, my courteous ethic to entertain, and my commitment to forgiveness.  As I have been asked to leave the relationship table or chosen to excuse myself, I forget to dignify the goodness that was shared while sitting, in favor of painfully and pitifully ruminating on the dysfunction and spoilage.  It does not take very long to get up from the relationship table, but it has taken me awhile to realize the time i spent grieving the separation isn't proportionate to the time celebrating the joy created during these relationships.  It has been cathartic and difficult to remind myself that the good outweighs infection.  The sickness is what I grieve and regret but clouds or cut short the celebration of what was enjoyed.

I can be a selfish lover.  I can be a delinquent lover.  I can be a misunderstood lover.  What I am slowly realizing is that each failure is helping me to discover my gifts.  I started loving genuinely and with a trust that was vulnerable.  This was many years ago as a young innocent young man.  That was tarnished and exploited.  I was emotionally abused, toyed with, and my love was disregarded by another restless young heart.

She is not to blame, but she did introduce me to the skills needed to protect myself from the pain, jealousy, disappointment, unfulfilled longing, loneliness, and vulnerability.  She helped me build a habit of leaving early from the dinner table, because her soup burned my lips, and her greens were bitter, possibly poisonous.  I have yet to come to a dinner setting with the commitment to eat what is served and learn to trust its sustenance.  I see my cycle and venturing into the past with Donald over the last couple of years has helped both of understand why we grew to have restless hearts.  We have been hurt too, but I realize the memory of the pain has stifled my ability to trust that the next setting can be different.  I am preparing myself to joyfully be willing to trust, risk being lonely, long restlessly, struggle with disappointment, overcome jealousy, and be hurt.

I'm not touched up...I come this furry

Not sure why this struck me but facades are critical to human advertising. The pictures I paint are interpreted, perceived, and believed. It is a lesson I feel I need to teach my daughters but feel overwhelmed. I think I am still dealing with this today. Facades are where my thoughts are. Who do I want the world to believe I am and what am I willing to do to construct an image that helps sell me? I think humility is coming to terms with modesty enough to trust that you will appreciate me for my insecurities as equally as my facades.

Critical Reciprocity

The beauty about failing in relationships is the void created by the absent partner.  During my divorce I encountered guilt like never before.  I encountered myself like never before. I encountered my ego like never before. And I encountered regret like never before.  I encountered faith like never before.  I encountered friendship like never before. And in reciprocity, I have adopted the theory that the way I do anything is the way I will do everything.  I am an oyster looking upon the moon as an example for how to create a pearl within myself.  I am learning to look within to find threats, isolating and packaging these harmful parts so they don't deteriorate me.  When I found my ex wife, I found a moon.  Her void put me on this path of reinvention, refinement, and healing.

Catalina is the catalyst that broke down the barriers and boundaries creating the necessary motivation and energy to harness my critic in this new found healing way.  I feel confident is saying that I will not do everything correctly but I will be correctively approaching everything I do.  So as I have recently encountered progress in my abilities to love, the critic in me has also identified opportunities for improvement.  In recent relationships after my marriage I have been trustworthy, honest, and committed, typically these are common sense.  But being trustworthy, honest, and committed is entirely different from being trusted, believed, and accepted.

I foolishly admit these are new qualities I have tasted.  They are qualities I have barely adopted and my inexperience with them or my previous functioning without them, my infidelity, has created self doubt and worse doubt from my new partners.  I guess it's fear that I might not know how to use them or that once broken always broken.  These are refinements that took losing my best friend to realize how important they are.  These are foundational components that to many seem simple and common sense but to the insecure and damage boy I evolved to be they were hard to adopt because it means being selfless and accountable.  It is a work in progress for me and it difficult being stereotyped for my past delinquency but my critic is harsh but fair.  My critic is a highly functioning and dignified quality that will not hesitate to judge.  I am proud of my growth towards being seen as trustworthy and I am not discouraged by the doubt.  Doubt has become a good calibrator for determining if the mistrust is mine or being projected.  I trust my critic will help me recognize the complicated sifting of doubt, helping me determine what is mine to own.  I trust me for the first time in a lifetime.

I have not replaced my critic.  My critic is the same critic that would prepare me for set of squats by calling me the worst vulgar terms I could think of.  The difference is that I have taken the void of Catalina and reminded myself of what didn't work.  I have gone back and asked her what didn't work.  In a way I feel like I have been able to understand how she wanted to be loved.  This is the beauty and adaptability I am seeing from my critic.  It is willing to adapt. It is willing to hear from those it hurts how it can become better.  Like the pearl it wraps threatening qualities in a way that becomes polished and forgiving appendages.  

My critic can still be devastating and intolerant, but it is adapting and improving, leaving behind pearls of wisdom.  Catalina Sanchez gave me such a phenomenal benchmark for how to love and my shortcomings for how not to love have helped me recognize where to improve.  It proves to me that my critic is a high performing engine that can adopt contemporary enhancements. The learner in me has helped my critic improve so it has better exhaust, smoother ride, and a subtler feedback system.

Dedicated to a close friend, former lover, and partner in parenting, I love you in a unique and sisterly way Catalina Patricia Sanchez.  I owe my manhood to you and your endured disappointment with me hopefully will not be in vein.

Choices...what gets to the soul?

My critic has a golden side...it doesn't let me quit.

Another Brother, Greg

Greg is my younger brother but the oldest of my siblings.  The mellow one on the left.  I spent most of my time as a child with him.  He was always with me and my dad.  He was a rambunctious little man.  He was a charmer, athletic, stubborn, happy, and risky.  I cherish our trips despite being a teenager when he was a kid and not being mature enough to know to play with him.  He grew up to be a cool kid.  He grew to be the cool kid in the stereotypical ways and deeper soulful ways.  I remember him being a sharp dresser, a clean look, a stylish appearance...I think he still demonstrates this.  He was an exceptionally hard worker.  He drilled constantly with my dad and had a confidence on the court that I never came close to achieving.  He would shoot like if it was the only and right thing to do.  I wonder how my involvement in his life has influenced him.

I was equally trying to maintain a stylish and trendy upkeep during our younger years, and lost opportunities to be a brother, in favor of a fan.  I remember even admiring and modeling myself after some of the traits he carried.  I gotta say my brother Greg is a cool cat.  I have not had the chance to share deeply with him and guess the stylish facade brings with it an elusive doorway to the soul.  I desire a deeper loving relationship with Greg and accept that we might be more good friends than those brothers who cry on shoulders.  I think Greg and I are more alike than different.  He has a temper as I have had.  He has his beliefs and his independent ways.  He can boil and be cool as the other side of the pillow, all this being said about man I don't really know.

I love him in way that has taught me to seize moments and make them lasting.  I tell him I love every time I see him.  I see the worry in his face as he struggles through the reality of being a single father.  I dream of having Saturday barbecues with our wives and little ones running around.  Our lives and our insecurities have created wonderful moments of brief yet inspiring visits that last only hours.  He is a rebel without even desiring to be one.  He is a charming boy running full throttle in a father's mindset.  I tread lightly saying this but I feel he has more shadow revealed than myself or Pete.  I see so much of my dad in him.  I have recently trusted that he is a scrapper.  He might be the most street intelligent out of the three of us.  He tells a funny story and laughs a good laugh.

There are regrets and guilt for being possibly being a reckless and insecure influence on Greg, but more significant is the longing to be a strong presence now.  I think pondering regret would only remind me of the sadness for who I was.  I am reminded of what I can do now, as a token of hope.  I am trying to be a concrete brother.  I am learning to love in way we were never shown, that maybe it might catch like wild fire and warm his heart and unleash more of the charisma that he has exemplified over the years.  He is my brother.  Happy Birthday Greg.

Crafty Caring Critic

The critic is a quality that has tormented me, motivated me, and polished me.  It brings great suffering to my learning, loving and interpreting.  This facade is the most interesting because it is the part of me that helps me improve.  My critic is necessary. It is not a part of me that can be excluded.  I'm seeing a change, a softening of my critic.  I think this means approaching my critic not with criticism but with feedback wrapped in compassion.

Shadow & Ego Lense

Early on in my childhood the shame and worry of failure conceived the critic.  I think I began to judge myself, push myself, and fear mistakes out of trying to succeed and behave.  The irony is that the fear created shame and the shame caused hesitation.  In learning hesitation only delays the absorption and experiences needed to build confidence and trust.  Punishment also plays a significant role in the development of my critic.  Because aptitude was measured with achievement I began to protect myself from the harsh effects of criticism by creating an internal judge who could be more critical than societal judges.  Societal judges being parents, teachers, peers, and coaches.  The critic grew to be more and more severe as I encountered more and more insecurities.

What inspired my critic to be so harsh and severe?  I grew up in a culture with shame and embarrassment.  Being latino, was at times, seen as a disadvantage or unfortunate burden, especially identifying as lower middle class.  This bread insecurity and comparison into my personality.  I had disciplined and punishing parenting, although loving I would consider it conservative.  My family often focused on improving mistakes and not breaking the rules.  I felt pushed, punished, and expected to fit systems.  This environment motivated me to criticize myself, discourage myself from experimenting, and hate losing.

I learned to only do the the things I excelled at.  As I got older the critic grew darker and more committed to helping me be the best.  It helped me to adapt to systems, feed off of scarcity, and take advantage without appearing to do so.  I know being little, underdeveloped, and poor didn't help.  I think my critic never had the chance to fail gracefully and in contrast tortured myself into competency.

I learned to lie to myself as a strategy for motivation.  When I say lie to myself, I like to think of the worst possible friend, and that was my subconscious.  In adolescents, sports were my go to activities.  I started working out in my 6th to 7th grade summer.  I put to bed the child and introduced the professional.  My dad and I created a workout schedule that I followed loosely.  Regardless I was training.  The most difficult realization I have made this round of introspection is body image.  I can now remember beginning to compare and observe my progress around this time.  I was always little and the younger athlete on my teams because of my August birthdate.  I always felt like I had to work harder and convince myself I wasn't ready, good enough, and there was more to practice.

Remember the worst possible friend I mentioned earlier.  Well he stuck around despite my aging.  That little voice in the back of my head that feeds me shitty thoughts, believing he is just trying to prepare me for the worst so I'm not surprised and let down, is alive and thriving in my psyche.  This is the part of me I am working to change.  When I would practice this voice would invoke the worst possible names it could to motivate me with anger.  When in love he would convince me that I wasn't good enough or remind me of the little I had to offer.  In learning he would start me off with how lazy I was with reading, continue with how forgetful I was, and finish it off with a few shortcuts and pity parties.

My ego has been a functional and effective motivator, but not very graceful.  I have created self suffering in the form of pity, shame, guilt and regret.  I have punished myself continually for my failures. I work diligently on being better and improving.  As a result I can say I made it a long way with dysfunctional sidekick.  My ego along with my shadow have left a legacy of torment, and surprisingly currently not disrupting my direction change towards a more graceful perspective.

True Self

What does it look like to fail gracefully?  I think it would include more encouragement than dissapointment.  I think had my family put an emphasis on what I was doing well could have helped me feel more confident with approaching the challenges causing me to fail.  Failing gracefully looks more like the measurement of progress versus collection of errors.  

I am softening my critic.  I have grace and appreciation for the progress it has made.  With the use of trust my critic is softening.  I am resisting the urge to judge myself in favor of understanding myself.  When I fail I first recognize that I made an attempt and that is something to reward.  This has allowed myself to forgive my shortcomings and recognize the opportunity to learn from them.  This has allowed me to finally see progress after so long being forced to focus on failure.  I think for this process it is important to note that writing this paragraph brought me to tears, big crocodile ones, and with them peace.  This is a young transition I'm in but so much more efficient.  Donald and I talked about not being fast, be fluid, and fluid is fast.  Well being graceful is being fluid and the changes in me may not be fast but they will be fluid.

The difficult with my critic is that it is the framework for how how I treat those I love.  It has been the default response mechanism for me.  It has been the part of me that people grow to despise avoid and even divorce.  I won't quit on my critic.  If my critic has taught anything it has been that quitting is the trophy for failure.  It might be an internal enemy but it is my greatest asset.  It is what has always woke me up in the morning and it is the part of me that tells my hands to wipe the tears.  It is the part of me that convinces me the pain is just weakness leaving the body.  I love you critic, I just can't continue to function without giving you an overhaul. 

If my true self had a love song to my critic's ego and shadow it would sound like this.

Falling up

I am discovering me.  I am learning to soften myself.  Softening can be described as humbling, refining, purifying or maybe humanizing.  I have been trying to encounter my shadow for a few years.  This is easier said than done.  I have studied what the shadow can be, how it might reveal itself, and where I can look for it.  But as I approach the final stages of my counseling curriculum I am doing the work.  

I am asking the questions about myself that I asked after my divorce.  I am monitoring and collecting feedback from people who might love me, who I've failed, and who I trust.  I am going back to the basics. I am working on how I can identify with my shadow by identifying actions, behaviors,and emotions that have tarnished my relationships, perspectives, and beliefs.  I want to inspire change, because what I have learned from my love relationships is that a few core struggles linger and damage, leading me to consider that I may not have evolved like I thought.  I am cycling through another introspective phase.

I've collected a few qualities that are in need of immediate softening, I'll call these facades.  There are several areas of my self concept that need softening but I'll process these for now.  I am not a Jungian but I admire his use of shadow, ego, and true self.  I would like to hold these three qualities I am trying to soften in the light of the shadow, the ego , and the true self.  The first quality I find easy to identify is the critic.    Another is the romantic.  And lastly, to get me started down the path of softening, is the victim.  Each of these identified facades have played a significant role in my personality development over the last several years.

I am an expert learner as we all are.  I am disappointed when I make the same mistake twice.  This disappointment is teaching me to invoke my intrapersonal atonement.  This is building patience, sympathy, tolerance, and humility.  I want to be a person who breaks down stigmas, challenges the semantics of society to be more trusting, and I hope to have longer periods of love where I sigh no more.