It’s pretty widely theorized that we spend a lot of our lives trying to fix our childhood. More to the point, we marry our parents — maybe our mothers, maybe our fathers, amybe some combination of the two.
I think the mother thing came about primarily because, for the longest time, home was a matriarchal area, and the mother was the dominant figure for both little boys and little girls. I’m not sure how valid I see the mother thing — or even the parent of the opposite sex. I think it’s really more of an issue of impact — which parent left more scar tissue on one’s psyche, to be dark about it.
I’ve seen enough evidence of this in my life to feel comfortable with the idea that this is, at least unconsciously, true. Probably partially due to a comfort issue (not necessarily comfort as much as familiar), and partially, at least, a method of resolution and making things right.
I think that maybe a lot of people have issues from the past they are determined to right. This might be mistakes that they made, words or behaviors that they regret and hope to make up for. This might be situations out of their control — neglectful or abusive parenting, for instance — that some deep part of them wishes to overcome. Or it might be something that they simply need ot play through to a natural conclusion.
(I can’t help but hold the idea that this — being psychology — is utter bullshit at the worst, patently oversimplified at best. But we trek on, in search of answers for the questions that haunt and pester us…)
If you have a history of failed relationships (prime example: me), it’s a good idea to look to your childhood to try and find correlations. I think, though, that it’s important (and nearly impossible) to find the right line between flexibility and knowledge — which is to say, assumptions about your past, about causitive factors or reasons for behavior, or even misremembered facts — can lead you way off the path you should be on.
As much as I know, I don’t know anything. Or maybe it’s better to say that I don’t understand anything. Neely likes to say that I’m one of the smartest people that she knows, but maybe that gets in the way of things like this.
I’ve been connecting my rearranging of furniture with breaking off relationships.
Ladies and gentlemen, my life is surreal.
Anyway… I’ve been drawing these connections for the past six months or so, based not on behavior but the emotional or gut motiviations for those behaviors. Which is to say that the need to rearrange my environment is the same gut, instinctive, reptile brain feeling that I get when I feel the need to break off whatever relationship I’m in (speaking of romantic realionships, by the by). Which all traces back to my brother being born, which translates (in my head) to a form of abandonment anxiety, etc.
Neely suggested that maybe I’m afraid of getting comfortable and then being replaced again, and so I end things before someone else can. And Melissa mentioned that I shouldn’t abandon the idea that the rearranging is just my coping mechanism way of asserting control over my life.
Both of which are valid points. And I’ll say that it’s likely, even, that I’m afraid of losing again, and so I make preemptive strikes. But I don’t think that’s it — there’s no sense of fear involved…
I think a large part of me is concerned with seeking out romantic attention for validation of self. That makes total sense to me, given my personality and inner workings, and completely explains diving into relationships and diving right back out. You don’t need a relationship to last to get validation of self out of it — in fact, at some point, you’re getting less validation because you’re not getting it from more and more people.
(Yes, this is horrible behavior, and I recognize that. But I’m approaching this clinically, and besides, who really wants to judge themselves so harshly?)
But I think that maybe in some ways I might be denying myself the comfort of a long-term relationship, related to that whole childhood abandonment thing. Why would I be doing that? There’s a question that I can’t even begin to answer — unless it has to do with feeling, on some level, like I don’t deserve that comfort.
You can’t really change your feelings, I think, at least on a base level. They’re like reflexes, totally out of your control, built-in. I think you can affect them, to some extent, but only over time and with a lot of work.
What you can affect, though, are your reactions to those feelings. Your behavior is totally under your control, if you’re willing to assert said control, to take responsibility for yourself.
And who else is going to do that for you?
There’s a lot of jumble that goes into thinking of this nature, and that’s fine. I think it’s easier to sort it out when you allow yourself to think out loud — and even moreso if you open yourself up to considering the viewpoints of others without flatly rejecting them because they don’t fit your theories or assumptions.
Great. Now my brain hurts. And I’m craving pork and beans, and hot dogs.
Zoinks.
