A little while ago, I published a blog post about being on the verge of a breakthrough. I talked about feeling foggy and not being able to make major decisions or stay on track and get things done, and how instead of blaming myself or heaping on the guilt, I just remembered the Running Leap and trusted myself.
Knowing about the Running Leap helped me recognize my period of mental fogginess as productive in its own way. Even when I can’t see clearly what I’m working toward, I can trust myself and the process.
Any time it seems like I’m hiding from something, I remind myself that I’m actually just backing up to take a running leap toward exactly what I want.
And indeed, not too long after that post, I finally connected an old memory from childhood to the conclusion I had made in that moment:
When I was about 7 or so, I was home sick from school. Usually when that happened, my mother would take care of me, and there were a few things she always did. The routine included: making up a bed on the couch and giving me simple foods like toast and ginger ale.
On this particular day, my mom wasn’t home, but my dad was. He was less familiar with the routine, so I had to instruct him. When I got to the ginger ale part, my dad checked the fridge, and then said, “We don’t have any ginger ale. But we have cola?”
I had a vague idea that the reason my mom always gave me ginger ale had something to do with it being a “clear” soda, instead of a “brown” soda. But, my dad seemed to think it would be fine, so I trusted his judgement over mine, and had toast and cola for lunch.
Less than 30 minutes later, I threw up.
Whether or not the cola was actually the cause, I connected the two. In that moment, I had a dawning “realization.” My dad was supposed to take care of me, and he had no idea what he was doing!
Since I knew what I needed better than he did, I would have to manage my dad to ensure that nothing else bad happened to me while I was sick. And, obviously, details (like what type of soda) mattered. The more I relied on myself, the better.
And then I grew up. And started dating.
I always wanted to date men who could “take care of” me. To me that meant being supportive, responsible, handling things well without needing my oversight, etc. The problem was, I always knew better than they did (where could that have come from??). In fact, I always had more drive, direction, and higher standards, too. Since I couldn’t trust their judgment, it fell on me to pick up the slack emotionally, financially, etc. The result was that I ended up taking care of me and them, and never feeling cared for.
Then one day, as I was relaying the sick-day memory to my mom (Sandy Blackard), something clicked. I realized that at age 7, I had made a (logical, but inaccurate) conclusion based on that very unpleasant experience.
I had concluded that to ensure my well-being, I would need to “take care of” the people who were supposed to take care of me.
So basically, I had spent my whole life so far trying to find someone to “take care” of me, but somehow the guys I dated always needed me to take care of them. And because of my childhood conclusion, these were the only kind of relationships I could have–ones where I could never truly relax and trust my partner to handle things.
Once I realized this, my mom used our coaching model to help me examine my childhood conclusion with compassion. Being sick is awful. Throwing up is awful. Of course I would look for whatever I could grab to prevent it happening again.
And, looking with adult eyes, I could see several things that didn’t quite add up: I had the flu, so throwing up may have simply been inevitable, regardless of what I ate or drank. Even if the cola was the cause, it wasn’t a sign that my dad was completely incapable of caring for me. It would have been one misstep over a full day of being caring, attentive, and knowing what I needed. And, all of that had NOTHING to do with whether or not it was possible to be in a romantic relationship with someone who could care for me the way I wanted.
This breakthrough changed my relationships with everyone in my life, but especially my romantic relationships. Suddenly, I was no longer willing to manage my significant others. I was finally ready to trust that the people I date know what they’re doing and to just…let them do it. And if they didn’t, I knew I could find someone who did. No more man-children for me!
Less than a year after that breakthrough, I dated two men in a row that were DELIGHTED to have someone to pamper. Both had been desperately seeking a partner whose “love language” was being cared for, and had only managed to find women who felt patronized and belittled when someone tried to dote on them. I almost laughed out loud when I learned that their deepest desire was for me to “let them” take care of me.
Although we were ultimately incompatible, I enjoyed those relationships and knew it was a sign that the “backing up” part of my running leap was over. I was able to trust that eventually I would find a life partner who could dote on me and handle things without needing my oversight.
And sure enough, a year later, I met my husband. I was struggling and overwhelmed with grad school when we met. I told him I didn’t have time for a relationship, not realizing that what I meant was, I didn’t have time to take care of someone (my OLD relationship schema). He blew my mind when his version of spending time together involved helping me get organized and developing a plan to tackle my thesis. And then, when I put my head down and got to work, he only interrupted me to bring me my favorite snacks and share words of encouragement.
This was a total game-changer for me. A partnership where I could truly just request support and get it, above and beyond my expectations, and there was no resentment or helplessness. A partnership where I could be the needy one sometimes! That was his first green flag among many. And to this day, we often say to each other, “I love that I can count on you to just…handle things.”
And it all started with trusting myself. Instead of being hard on myself for staying with partners who didn’t fulfill me, I trusted that my inner compass was leading somewhere better, and they were part of my path. That I was backing up to take a running leap toward the relationship of my dreams.
That’s how I learned that trusting myself didn’t mean what I used to think it meant.
It wasn’t that I could only trust myself because I couldn’t trust others. It was about trusting the voice inside that said, “I don’t like this belief. Maybe it doesn’t have to be true.”
And now, I have a wonderful husband, a PhD, and I’m growing the business of my dreams (with his support!).
Where would trusting yourself and seeing a running leap make a difference for you?
2 thoughts on “Who Do You Trust?”
How great, Betsy, for you to realize what you’ve been doing relationally and determine to make it right. It seems that so many of us women tend to live our lives by taking care of everything and being the hub of our worlds. Your insight and declaration is huge. Many people could be so much freer if they practiced these kinds of boundaries.
Sue in Waco
Sue,
It’s been a wonderful, freeing realization. I hadn’t thought of it in terms of boundaries, but it really is. I often worry about my boundary-setting abilities, so thank you for re-framing it like that for me! External perspective is always useful in self-growth.
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