On the Spectrum

I have no insights to share, no musings or ponderings. All I have today are statements and questions.

Since my hysterectomy, I've been wrestling with a lot of deeply-rooted emotional, spiritual, and psychological conundrums. I've had to confront beliefs, ideas, practices, and habits that were wrong, broken, skewed, or lacking. I'm still in that process. I want to be whole. I'm tired of being the person hurting myself and holding myself back. I don't want to be that person anymore.

And it's fucking hard work. Sometimes I wonder why I should care so much. Because it isn't just me. I'm not the only one who has invested in my bad or skewed habits and ideas. Over the course of my entire life (and likely beginning long before I was even a blip on the cosmic radar), other people have contributed to who I am and why I am this way, good or bad. I don't exist in a void. These people have profited at some point in time from exploiting my habits and the pukas in my personality. Kanani won't say no, so I'm going to ask her to pick me up. Kanani won't mind if I don't give her a birthday gift. Kanani is so easy going, she won't even mind if we don't celebrate her birthday this year. Kanani won't complain, she won't fight back, she won't ask for anything, she'll comply, she'll accept, she'll keep her mouth shut. You know what else she does? She stuffs it all away and lets it fester into bitterness and resentment, and eventually it bleeds all over the damn place.

In my heart, I know people mean well, and may even reach out to help. I don't believe that the people who love me actually set out to hurt me or exploit those pukas out of malice. And I have come to realize that I allow this to happen. Because, after all, I can open my mouth, I don't have to comply. Believe me, I don't think of my compliance as a virtue. I think this is something culturally ingrained into many of us because of gender and ethnicity, and specifically for me, reinforced through repetition and experience. It takes a whole lot to overcome all of that reinforcement, even if I know better.

It can be soul-crushing work, and it's likely the reason I have yet to say that I'm happy to have had this hysterectomy. All the emotional turmoil that I've slogged through these past four months has continually and relentlessly chipped away at my self-esteem. Imagine Swiss cheese. And while therapy has been a HUGE help (I love Wednesdays, remember?), it requires that I sit in my emotions and look at them. I have to face them instead of push them aside. I have to care instead of feign indifference. And I have to acknowledge so many painful, scary, embarrassing things so that I can process them and eventually move past, discard, or embrace as needed. I don't always want to. It's slow-moving progress even if I commit myself to it, and I don't always want to. I wonder why I even bother. The patterns that I've been repeating have benefited others. We're all used to them even if those patterns were broken things that weren't paying off anymore. I'm tempted to just go back to that feigned indifference, back to apathy, back to selfishness because at least I didn't have to feel like this so much of the time. Only some of the time.

Part of my process has been to suspend my social media presence. It was never prescribed to me by any of my doctors or my therapist, and it kind of wasn't even deliberate. In so doing, I can recognize how toxic that habit had become even if no one noticed or cared, and even if it barely seemed to alter my life. Facebook is instantaneous. We get feedback and support almost immediately. Our friends and family rally around our cause, whether or not they should, and that brings some measure of relief.  And after we post something, there's that impulse to check, check, check to see if someone has responded. Check, check, check to see if there's a new Like, and if there is, who is it? Check, check, check to see if someone left a comment, and is it amusing/clever/insightful/stupid/mean? What shall I say in response? We let these things feed us because these interactions validate our emotions, ideas, and sense of self. We find comfort in them. It makes us feel connected to other folks, and connection isn't bad. We're all trying to make and find meaningful connections, right?

I've had to kind of reevaluate, though. What kind of connections am I seeking and with whom? Does social media help me process all my shit? Does it meet my needs and should it? Does it take away from or diminish the real-life connections with the people around me? Does it substitute for what might be true(r) connections? That I haven't completely withdrawn from social media should tell you that I don't think it's all bad. I value our interactions and I like keeping in touch with people. I look at your photos, your struggles, your victories and I feel the appropriate feels. But I see you through the lens of the internet. It doesn't require any real connection. We didn't sit down for coffee and catch up. I didn't have to invest any real time into our friendship, and neither did you. We just throw things out into the void and see what sticks. Social media is valuable but it is also a trap.

It is tempting to seek reassurance online. It would be so easy to post things on Facebook and await the responses of friends and family who will tell me, "Kanani, you've got it all wrong. You are in fact smart/kind/good/funny/pretty/amazing/not wrong/deserving!" And I would take your comments with a grain of salt even as they pleased me to read. It is tempting to seek an audience online. Look at these thoughts and ideas and feelings I have. I am so smart/introspective/socially conscious/environmentally aware." And, in fact, that's exactly what I'm doing right now with this blog. Look at my thoughts, I say. Does it matter that these thoughts are intended to be more advocacy and less catharsis?

So what does social media have to do with what I still consider my recovery? If I'm seeking true connections with the people I love and who love me (and if you're reading this, you likely belong in either or both of those camps), Facebook isn't cutting it. In fact, I've come to see it as more of a barrier than a facilitator to the kind of relationships I want, especially when I'm actually able to see most of you in person if we make enough effort. Besides, it's also good to be alone sometimes and not share every thought or idea or emotion or article. It's also good to forgo the immediacy of Facebook soothing, and begin the real work of soothing myself. Like fast food versus a home-cooked meal.

What does this mean for my self-esteem? My journey? Mahana drew a line the other day and wrote "clingy" on one end and "indifferent" on the other. Then she asked me where on the spectrum I thought I had been before and where I think I am now. She drew another line and wrote "lazy" on one end and "overly consumed" on the other and then asked me the same question. Thinking of things as a spectrum rather than as strict dichotomies is more than useful, it is liberating. Things are complicated and people are complicated. Relationships are complicated. Emotions are complicated. I am learning to make space for and embrace my emotions, whatever they may be at any given time, and I'm realizing that recovery is usually much quicker with acknowledgment than with repression. Instead of reaching for the flashy and immediate temptations of social media, I turn to journaling. I turn to crying or screaming. I turn to quiet staring out the window. Sometimes I turn to friends. I try to express myself to my husband. I try to hash things out with my kids. I doodle. I lose myself in a movie or binge watch New Girl. I work on a crossword puzzle.

That being said, my sense of self-esteem really is delicate much of the time. It's getting better, and it's not as bad as it sounds, and I'm confident that this time it will be built upon positives rather than negatives. I'm getting better (even if it's not obvious) at self-soothing, at reminding myself of my worth, and understanding that my feelings matter. I feel like I'm asking a lot of people sometimes, especially my husband and the rest of my family, but I also feel like I deserve to (although deserve isn't the word I'm after). I guess what I'm saying is that it's okay for me to impose upon them right now. That's what a village does. I've always tried to avoid imposing upon others because I thought it was selfish of me, it wasn't my place, it wasn't right, I wasn't worthy. But I'm a thoughtful, compassionate, and kind person. And if you're worth it to me to care about you, to support you when you need it, then I'm deserving of the same, right?

Anyway, this blog has gone way longer than I ever intended. As a writer, I know that there's a sweet spot in length where people are willing to invest their time to read. I've past it long ago. But then again, it's a rule I'm fine with breaking because I don't want to reduce my thoughts to digestible sound bites. Dr. Chelsea says she thinks I've lost my light, what makes me me. I didn't argue with her. I'm just figuring out, though, that it's more complicated than just not feeling sad anymore.