The Fear of Connection

On Valentine’s Day we got word that we have adoption certificates.  We were so excited to have a step completed that we didn’t even really know what it meant!  We have since learned it means our boys now officially have our last name – They are Rameys.  They have always been ours in our hearts, but now a piece of paper says they belong to us. 

It reminded me of our wedding day.  There is excitement in sharing a name, but it comes with a lot of responsibility and confusion.  I felt connected to Todd, but now a piece of paper would say I was – so much connected to him that I would take his name.  What would that mean?  Am I different?  Do I have to be?  Who am I if I’m not a Melrose anymore? Todd shared with me that he sat outside our first little condo and cried on our wedding day because he felt the gravity of the responsibility to love and care for another person. I could have taken that personally, but I admitted I too was shaky all day because of this name-changing conundrum. I know our boys will share that same confusion – who am I? What does it mean to be a Ramey? What does it mean to be in this family?  Will I fit in?

What we have learned and struggled with in our relationship is the beautiful and painful responsibility of connection. We have a responsibility to one another (not for one another – thank you, Cloud and Townsend, for your Boundaries book).  But we are often confused about what those responsibilities actually are.  Todd admits it is scary to have people in his care.  He feels as the provider of the family, the one from whom we all got our name, he needs to do the best he can to protect and “keep us okay.” There is fear in letting us down.  I admit that in taking his name I felt fear in being someone else’s “possession.”  Would I always just be “Todd’s wife” or would I still get to be ME? And what if I let him down? What if he is embarrassed that I’m a Ramey?  I feel a responsibility to uphold that name.  I gotta keep him happy!

Here’s the beauty about feelings – they don’t have to go away or be fixed to offer a space for deeper connection.  We are both afraid.  Neither of us wants to let the other one down. We both just want to do the best we can to care and love the other and somehow maintain a sense of self.  We both want to do things well.  We both want to be a good spouse and parent.  But the most helpful awareness for us – we realized we were both trying so hard to keep the other one okay (happy, free from pain, etc) instead of allowing each other space for feelings and consequences. And we have since realized, and still learning, that is NOT our job or a fair responsibility in relationship.  We will let each other down, not intentionally of course, and the connection happens when we talk about that instead of trying so hard to keep it from happening.  In our exhausted efforts to be the perfect spouse, we stop being real.

Being a Ramey makes me his family, his partner, the one he chose to do life with - even in all our messiness. And now that our boys are Rameys, we are welcoming them as family too – to share life with them and love, honor, and cherish them.  Is there still fear in that?  Of course.   But we can each in our humanity say, “This is scary, and I’m not always sure how to do this, but I chose you and love you, and we can figure this out together.”  

*Photo - writing his name Wendy RAMEY

Reframing Your Critic

Reframe (verb): frame or express (words or concept or plan) differently.

Have you ever heard the expression, “Those tapes keep playing in my head?”  Maybe you haven’t, since no one actually plays tapes anymore.  But in case you have, this is how I describe the barrage of negative thoughts and criticisms that roll through our minds at many points throughout the day.

I used to be in singing competitions when I was a kid and throughout my teenage years.  The judges would speak their critiques into a tape recorder while each contestant was singing.  So after the performance, I would go pick up my packet of cassettes and play back the performance – listening to myself sing something by Tanya Tucker or Bette Midler while some man or woman (who was supposedly a big deal in the music industry) would fire off, “You were off pitch right there” or “This isn’t in a good key for you.”  It was awful.  I would play them over and over and do my best to make it right the next time.  So literally those tapes kept playing – and today in some way they still play in my head.  As an adult I don’t hear, “Oh, man, Laura that was off key,” but I do hear, “Oh wow, you really screwed that up.”  How could these messages ever be helpful?  I’ve spent many years trying to quiet that voice, but what if…just maybe…that critic could be turned into something useful?

When I think about those years of competition, surely there was some good in having judges give their critiques by tape, so I could actually hear where they were hearing the need for improvement. And as I watch the Olympics, I can imagine the ice skaters or snow boarders have been told by their coaches many times, “Let’s try it again. You didn’t quite stick that one.”  One doesn’t get to the Olympics by shrugging their shoulders and saying, “Yeah, that was just okay, but I don’t need to practice anymore.” So what’s the line between healthy and harmful criticism?  Those judges or coaches could have been jerks about it, but what if they just sincerely wanted to offer help and encouragement for development? And what if our inner critics just want to do the same?

This is what I want to explore in the upcoming group I am offering “Reframing Your Critic”  (details at end of post).  Sadly many of us have “tapes” that play hurtful words someone said to us or messages we received during difficult times in our lives.  For example, someone who was abused as a child may have heard often, “You are worthless.” And now their inner critic message is just that.  That message is a lie.  So let’s assume this same person today is putting together a proposal for their boss, and the boss kindly offers some suggestions for areas of improvement, but all this person can hear the boss saying is, “You are worthless.” Sometimes truthful constructive criticisms are masked by the hurtful lies inside us.  My hope is that this group will help participants discern the difference between what is helpful and harmful.  We will work to identify the harsh critic messages we once received, gain insight into where they came from, release the burdens and lies they carry, and then reframe them into positive roles in our lives. 

So what does “reframe” mean?  As the definition above suggests, we are going to put that inner critic in a new light and help it express its needs differently.  We don’t have to silence our critic  - silencing keeps their hurt locked up.  But we can offer space to understand more about our critical messages, heal their wounds, and help them get a new name.  Maybe instead of a critic, it can become a motivator, teacher, helper, or encourager? 

I hope you can join the group, but if not, consider a few of these questions to help you begin to understand more about your own inner critic:

~What is a critical message you say to yourself most days?

~Where did you first learn/hear this message?

~Often our inner critics embody a character, symbol, color, or feeling in your body.  How do you recognize your critic?  Examples: bully (beats you up), chainsaw (cuts you to pieces), the color black (darkens your day) or a stomach ache (shame in the pit of your stomach).

~What would it be like to think of your critic as a part of you that actually wants to help or protect you?  How does that change the way your critic talks to you?

~Where can you (and your inner critic) get support to change the critic's role in your life?  God?  Counselor?  Safe friend? Mentor? 

If you are interested in joining the group, here's more info...