In
dance, I always want to try something new.
Maybe I’ll attempt to do as many turns as I can without hurting myself (or
others) or I’ll try a different kind of leap.
I always have to work my way up to what I am imagining in my head.
Doing
things differently requires strength.
You need core strength to do just about anything in dance. If you don’t have that foundation, it is difficult
to leap or turn. Emotions drive the
movement, but you have to have strength if you want to truly express yourself.
Sometimes,
I’m just not ready to try something new.
Maybe I feel intimidated by experimenting in front of a big class, or I
just feel like I can’t do it yet.
In the
end, I just have to trust that I am strong enough to let go and see how it
works. Often, it does and just as often,
I still have work to do to make it look the way I want.
This
reminds me of my relationship with a beloved relative. I knew I was enabling him, but I couldn’t
stop myself because I felt the stakes were so high. I wasn’t strong enough emotionally to let
go.
So I
would continue behavior that I understood was wrong, because I thought the consequences
of not enabling were way too scary.
Underneath this was the realization that I had to start saying “no.” And just like building up my core, I had to reinforce
my inner strength.
What
happens when you are an enabler is that you think, “OK, I’m really only doing x, so if I only do x, it’s not really that bad.”
That’s a lie I used to tell myself.
It was like thinking you could give an addict only one drink, or a
single pill, and it will stay at one drink or one pill forever.
Enabling
is like an addiction—you do more of it and the person needs more of it. So you need to give more and more until the
situation is even more dangerous and out of control.
What I
now understand is that even though I knew I was wrong, what I did, I did for
myself. I was not ready to be tough and
change my own behavior. Then, when I was
ready, I put up some boundaries that I could get behind and stick to. Over time, I built a stronger core. It was from this hard-won foundation that I
was finally able to stop the enabling.
Looking
back, I believe that I couldn’t stop my addictive behavior until I was
ready. I had to get to the place where I
knew there was nothing more for me to do, realizing that I was hurting my loved
one -- not helping. In a way, it was a
selfish thing. I couldn’t tolerate my
fear of what would happen if I stopped helping, so I “helped.” I don’t believe that’s wrong. I couldn’t
let go. And maybe my relative wasn’t
ready for me to let go, either.
Who’s to
say what might have happened had I awakened sooner?
The good
news is that my story has a happy ending—miraculous, really. Once I hit the wall and stopped “assisting,”
the person began to express who he always was beneath the crazy. And he did it himself.
I am
grateful every day for this. And I try
to remember that letting go creates the space for miracles to occur.
When
you’re ready.
What a wonderful and brave blog, my friend! Gratitude, letting go, forgiveness (especially of oneself), and patience are necessary components of serenity, don't you think? :-) I love this blog, and I love you, too, Susie. xo
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