[Private journal entry written on October 24, 2009]

Keeping promises is huge for me. When I don’t keep my promises to others, I feel sick about it. When others create a pattern of not keeping their promises to me, I get very angry.

Last night, I had to cancel a master class for my piano students that was scheduled for this morning. Another teacher and I were producing it together. I thought we had enough participants.

Photo by Martin Chen

But, yesterday, people started calling to back out. I ended up canceling the class late last night, 12 hours before it was scheduled to start. People just “forgot” or they decided to do something else . . . it’s like they have no clue the work we put into creating the class and getting it scheduled. I am so disappointed in the parents of my students right now!

And, I’m angry at my housemate, Erik . . . he promised to fix the light in my kitchenette so I can see what I’m doing in there . . . that was almost three weeks ago. I guess it isn’t causing him any pain so he is not motivated to take care of it. I guess I’ll have to figure out a way to make life miserable for him until he does it.

Although, I doubt that would work – it hasn’t worked to help him remember my piano lesson schedule. He repeatedly makes messes and has phone conferences in the common space when I have lessons scheduled. I remind him and remind him and remind him of my schedule, but to no avail. I am really getting tired of it. He doesn’t think about how his behavior affects other people.

And, the anger I felt towards Mark (therapist #1) last year has started coming back to the surface. I thought I got it laid to rest – but maybe not. I really need help from a therapist on the “touch” stuff . . . I know he would be so good at helping me with that. But, I can’t go back to him because I can’t trust him to honor my boundaries, even after he specifically promises to honor them. I don’t understand how he can justify that.

It seems I spend a lot of time and energy being angry and disappointed in people for not keeping their word. I’m thinking back to earlier this year when I sent off a searing email to the members of my accountability group for not showing up to the meetings. Why shouldn’t I expect them to keep their word . . . ?? It was an accountability group, for Pete’s sake!!

I honestly don’t know how to handle this kind of stuff. I hear people tell me that I need to respect myself enough to stand my ground – to let people know when they are not treating me well. I have been told that, if someone doesn’t treat me with respect, I should walk away from the relationship.

But, taking that stance has left me angry and nearly friendless. It’s not working for me.

What does my current way of handling conflict say about me?

Maybe I’m “doing it” wrong. Maybe there is a better way. It sure would be helpful to know what it is.

[Private journal entry written on October 23, 2009]

Yesterday, a dialogue about touching and being touched manifested on my blog in the comments section of the post titled, ” A cruel blast of cold air“. My friend, Svasti, made the following comment:

The sense I get from this is that you don’t need to rush yourself. If you can’t reach out and touch another person yet, so be it.

I responded with:

I do think it would be helpful to know what I fear will happen if I reach out and touch someone . . . what terrible thing do I think will result . . . ?? I know, logically, that it isn’t as bad as it feels . . . I’m curious what “terrible” thing happened that caused it to be such a fearful idea . . . if I knew what it was, then I think I could start to prove to myself that it can be different from what I fear.

My friend, Evan, added these thoughts:

I wonder if there is one little and easy thing to move beyond the block – like paying attention when you money into a cashier’s hand at the supermarket . . .

I think this is a big thing for you – it seems like it has a huge impact to do with your personal and sexual identity. So, like Svasti, I think it is well worth moving at your own pace and when you are ready . . .

This exchange got me to thinking . . . what would happen if my hand happen to touch the hand of a cashier at the store . . . ?? How would I react? What would I feel and think?

I realized that I would not allow our hands to touch – I would do everything I could to avoid it. And, if I had to make contact (maybe pick up a coin out of her hand), I would use the very tips of my fingers so the least amount of skin-to-skin contact would occur.

Photo by Martin Chen

So . . . what would I be avoiding? For sure, I’m not a germaphobe – I’m pretty relaxed about stuff like that. So, what could it be?

It took me a while to find the answer . . .

The answer is that I am avoiding any chance that the cashier would be angry with me for coming on to her sexually. I keep all physical contact as “sterile” as possible so there will be no question about the purity of my conduct and intention . . . because coming on to her (or anyone else) would be sinful and disgusting and weak. Hmmmmm . . . very interesting.

I was aware I felt that way around men in social situations . . . but I never realized I carried that fear into my everyday, benign associations as well. Very interesting, indeed.

I have always avoided touch. As a kid, I avoided it because I didn’t want to give any indication of the perverted sexual thoughts and desires that lived inside my head. I was afraid that those thoughts and desires would somehow become known through touch. I didn’t understand those thoughts and desires; I just instinctively knew they were sinful and shameful and my survival depended upon my ability to keep them hidden.

I guess I still carry an adult version of that belief around with me today. When I’ve had sex, the touching has always felt sinful – that I was a slut for participating. So, in order to maintain some level of honorability, I couldn’t allow myself to enjoy it. I only did it because it was the only way I could get attention and affection from a man.

Currently, I am so afraid any person I touch will think I’m flirting, that I want to have sex with him or her – I am afraid of that even when I have no intention of flirting. I worry about it with my boss, I worry about it with Mark (therapist #1), I worry about it with my piano students.

When I do want to flirt, when I do want to show that I’m “available”, I still feel unable to initiate touch – even affectionate touch. I’m afraid a man will see my “willingness” and think I’m a sinful slut. That programming is so powerful for me. Even after recognizing that it is not logical, I still feel powerless to shift it.

Will it ever be okay for me to touch, knowing I’m not flirting? Will it ever be okay for me to touch, knowing I am flirting? Will I ever be able to participate fully in sexual relations? Will I ever be able to trust a man in that way?

I can sense the importance of this issue has been increasing for me lately. I’m starting to feel that I need to address it sooner rather than later.

I just wish I knew how.

[Private journal entry written on October 18, 2009]

Earlier this week, a post was published on my blog that talked about how survivors often minimize what happened. Here is an excerpt of what I wrote in that post about my parents’ physical abuse of me:

Yes, I rationalize my parents’ behavior because I totally understand why my parents did what they did. It was the best they knew to do and they did it out of love. They both came from very abusive families and they made a conscious choice to do better – and they did do much better than the example they had been given. Not only was the abuse significantly less, the “punishments” were mostly done out of love and not out of anger, meanness or drunkenness.

My friend, Evan, submitted the following comment in response to the post:

I guess rationalising is explaining away rather than explaining.

I really have very mixed feelings knowing that the abusers were behaving better than their abusers behaved to them. This is awful and horrible, a dreadful thing to have to come to terms with.

My response to Evan’s comment was:

Wow . . . your sentence, “I guess rationalising is explaining away rather than explaining” really hit home for me. That seems like the piece of the puzzle that was missing for me.

It is a bit tough for me to read the word “abusers” in your comment in reference to my parents – I know there was abuse, but I haven’t been able to call them abusers.

Thank you for your compassionate words . . .

(On a side note for those of you in the United States . . . no, we are not spelling the word “rationalising” incorrectly . . . Evan lives in Australia and that is how Australians spell it . . . )

I have been thinking some more about this exchange with Evan. I do have trouble holding my parents responsible for their behavior.

They believed the best way to keep a child on the straight and narrow was to beat sense into him or her – and to keep hitting and whipping and slapping until the child’s spirit broke and he or she became compliant.

Photo by Martin Chen

Inside my head, I fought back – hard. I refused to cry and my dad took that as a sign my spirit hadn’t been broken. Finally, he would win and I would cry.

At one point – and it would have been about the time I was being molested by “X” (about age four) – I would get so scared about being whipped that I’d pee my pants. My dad quickly learned to make me go to the bathroom first – then whip me.

I remember watching my 18-month-old niece get into trouble with my dad. She disobeyed him so he spanked her. I remember thinking, “You’ll learn . . . that’s what happens when you don’t do what you are told to do! You’ll learn! It’s what happens around here.”

My brother and I got it the worst because we were defiant. My two sisters were much more compliant. Shortly after I started therapy with Mark last year, I mentioned to my sister that I was having trouble dealing with my anger about the physical abuse. She looked at me with a strange look . . . she doesn’t remember there being much hitting. She asked, “So, where was I when this was going on with you?”

I don’t know how she didn’t see it. I know she didn’t get hit much because she did what she was told to do – and she always made a point of reporting to mom and dad when I wasn’t following the rules. She avoided the punishments most of the time.

Maybe she didn’t know that I got hit so much because dad always took me into the bedroom to do the hitting – or maybe he did it when she wasn’t around. I don’t know. I’m not sure she even believes me – maybe she thinks I’m exaggerating. But, my brother believes me because it happened to him, also. He knows from first hand experience.

I know my parents were doing what they thought was best for us. But, it surely must have crossed their minds more than once that there might be a better way. Surely common sense told them that it was not healthy for a child to have her will broken as if she was a wild animal – for that matter, what sense does it make to break the will of any living creature, human or otherwise?!?!?

No wonder I have a neurotic need to maintain perfect control! It was the only way I had a fighting chance of being perfect enough to survive my childhood.

The only touch I had with my dad was a random quick hug . . . and the beatings. No wonder I now crave physical touch from men.

I was told I ought to be thankful that I was growing up in such a good family.

I can be thankful for some things about my growing up – I had a roof over my head and food on the table and I was physically safe most of the time. There were good parts – good parts punctuated by hellish parts.

I have a feeling this is going to take a while for me to get my head around this whole issue. In looking back at Evan’s comment, I can see how I am trying to make sense of it all – I’m not rationalizing or explaining it away, I’m not saying it was okay. Rather, I’m trying to understand how two really good people who loved me dearly could abuse me in so many ways.

Maybe the conflict for me comes from not knowing what it means to “hold them responsible”. Does that mean I’m supposed to be angry at them, say nasty things to them or their memory? Am I supposed to confront them? Am I supposed to write out in great detail everything they did to me and how it currently affects my life?

Does it mean that, if I can find a way to let go of the anger, I am no longer holding them responsible?

Maybe I need to answer those questions first.

[Private journal entry written on October 15, 2009]

Well, this week I signed on another new piano student. I now have six students, not counting my housemates – I can’t really count them because they never practice and they never show up for their lessons . . . one lesson every six months does not a student make, LOL.

I really, really enjoy teaching piano. Each student has a story, a struggle, a triumph, a hope, a dream – I enjoy finding the unique path to each student’s inner genius and drawing out the music of their soul. It’s like I was born to do this.

Wesley, my 10-year-old student with Asperger’s (a mild form of autism) has asked to learn Fur Elise by Beethoven. This is surprising because, when he first started lessons, I was told by his dad and by him that structure and a methodical approach were critical – we had to have a clear plan and we had to live by it diligently in order for Wesley to be able to participate successfully.

Photo by Martin Chen

I have discovered that Wesley has a great ear for music – and, he has composed some beautiful short pieces of music. He seems to be able to compose instinctively. Once I got him hooked on creating original music, his natural artistic side has started showing up. He has ditched the methodical approach and is now going out and finding music that appeals to him. And, he has shown an interest in performing – not something he would have considered before. Almost every week he walks in waving some book or sheet music . . . “Look what I found, Marie!”

I have tried to use my little electronic keyboard with him for music theory – but, the flashing buttons and lights were way too distracting. I figured out I will have to just stick with the acoustic piano when working with him. At least I don’t have to go around the house and shut down any repetitive motion (like the ceiling fan) and flashing/blinking displays on the electric/electronic appliances before his lesson – which is what I had to do before each of Matt’s lessons. Wesley’s autism is not as profound as Matt’s so Wesley is not as easily distracted.

When he first started working with me, he had lessons only every other week – on the weeks his mom had custody of him, she didn’t want to bring him for lessons because she felt they were not beneficial.

However, she was able to see his newfound excitement about music . . . and she changed her mind. She said to me, “I don’t know what you did to get him so excited about all of this, but he is coming to life. It would be irresponsible of me to not support his piano lessons.”

Now he is taking lessons every week – and his mom bought a piano so he could practice at her house. His parents are joining forces in a situation that used to be contentious. They have come together in agreement! How about that!

And then there is Betty, my 85-year-old student. Because of her short-term memory loss, she can only hold one or two pieces in her head at one time. If we start working on a third, she can’t remember how to play the first one.

She has shown an interest in music theory. So, I’ve been teaching her about scales and chords. We have to work very hard for every little bit of progress. When she finally does understand some concept, her face just beams with satisfaction! One day, she asked me, “Why has no one ever taught me about music theory before?” I don’t have an answer for her . . .

At the end of each lesson, we set up the lesson time for the next week – I have to make sure she gets it written down in her calendar. Otherwise, she won’t remember we have a lesson. Sometimes, she doesn’t remember even when we do get it in her calendar. On those days, I can see she is surprised to see me at her door . . . but, she just laughs and says, “Oh, well, it’s a good day for a lesson anyway!”

Oh, and, there is a seven-year-old girl who is naturally methodical. When I learned she was feeling overwhelmed by all she had to learn about each piece (notes, hand position, rhythm, dynamics, etc.), I came up with the idea of a checklist. For every tiny step in the process, she could check off an item on the checklist – there were 30-40 mini-steps for each piece she was learning.

It seemed like “too much information” for someone her age. However, I decided to try it. Lo and behold – her mother reported back that it was the best thing since sliced bread . . . it really worked well for her.

When I told my mom this story, my mom laughed . . . she said, “Ah, you have found a ‘girl after your own heart’!” In other words, I have found someone as anal-retentive as I am. It is only due to my own anal-retentiveness that I was able to come up with such a checklist! LOL

So . . . I am finding great joy in discovering what works for each individual student. It is like a enormous jigsaw puzzle . . .

Solicitation for Reader Input

Something I run into a lot in my life is the experience of feeling like I’m not being heard. When this happens, I first decide if being heard is important enough to me to make a big effort to be heard. If it is not, then I just suffer in silence and then “let it go” the best I can.

For example, earlier this year I was having conflict with my second therapist, Dr. Barb. I believed I needed an opportunity to tell my story around the traumas I have experienced — I’ve never had that opportunity. I felt telling my story with all its gory details was something I needed to do to move the trauma out of my body. I felt I couldn’t move forward with therapy unless she allowed this to happen — it was a deal-breaker for me.

She disagreed and wouldn’t allow me to talk about my history. I tried to get her to understand. I brought to her evidence from professional sources that backed my position. No matter what I said or did, she wouldn’t budge.

So, I threatened to leave. When that had no impact, I finally did leave.

I keep believing there has to be a better way. Maybe I’m not expressing myself clearly. Maybe my approach causes people to become defensive. Maybe I get all up-in-arms over stuff that is really not that important. I just don’t know which of those are true.

I’m interested in hearing what you all have to say about it.

Do you often feel like you are not heard or not understood? If so, under what type of conditions?

Are there times when you say nothing and suffer in silence?

What steps do you take to ensure you are heard and understood?

If the other party won’t shift his or her stance, do you leave? Do you often find yourself leaving?

Have you found types of leverage other than leaving? Do you think leverage is really necessary?

Or, maybe you often hear from others that you are not hearing and/or understanding them — if so, what do you do to minimize that?

I really want to hear your thoughts!! Please send me your comments!