How I Want You to See Me

When I was a kid, I used to get really angry. Really, really angry. I'd lash out, usually at my siblings, and I'd physically shake...and I couldn't figure out why. As I got older, I also started to withdraw a lot. I'd be at a basketball game or family birthday party or at lunch in my high school and suddenly feel a strong pull to disconnect or leave completely. People would ask me what had happened and I really couldn't explain it at all, but it felt awful. Over the past year or two, I've come to understand myself a little bit better and looking back I think those reactions were reactions to instances of shame or vulnerability. Someone said or did something that made me feel bad about myself, even if they didn't know it, and I had that natural "fight or flight" instinct.

I've basically devoured every text and video by Brené Brown and am currently listening to her audio lessons, because her work is a big part of my self-realization efforts. The more aware I am of what she calls "shame triggers", the better equipped I am to counteract them. I think, "I'm not actually angry. I just don't like when people think of me that way" or "I'm pulling away and putting up a wall. Stop Roxie. Lean into this moment. Let that person see you. You don't have to hide." And, yes. I am actually having conversations with myself. My internal monologue never shuts up. 😄

In the latest book I read by Brown (but actually one of her earlier books), I Thought It Was Just Me (But It Isn't), she presents a simple exercise to help identify your own triggers, which I found incredibly interesting. You start with the sentence stem "I want to be perceived as..." and list five ways you want to be seen. Then, you do the opposite starting with "I don't want to be perceived as..." One of the most surprising things about this was how easy it was for me personally. It was also surprising when I realized how important these things were to me. Brown gave many examples and everyone is so different. Some focus on intelligence or being a good mother or being healthy or physical appearance. Everyone has different pieces that make up the way they want to be seen and the things they desperately want to avoid. I have shared my answers below.

I want to be perceived as caring, strong, hard-working, open-minded, and positive.

I don't want to be perceived pushy, judgemental, selfish, bossy, or cynical. 

These things explain so much. It explains why I say "yes" to everything even when I don't really have time. I have to show I'm hard-working. But I work hard enough without having to always prove it.

It explains why I get really angry when my sister rolls her eyes when I tell her to do something. I suddenly realize I was pushy/bossy and hate that image of myself. But I can fix it without anger.

It explains why I dislike others doing things for me. I don't feel strong. But letting others be strong doesn't make me weak.

It explains why I suddenly withdraw from an interaction when I see someone zone out when I'm talking. I've realized that I'm being selfish and talking all about myself. But I have the right to talk about myself sometimes. I am enough.

Lessons Learned

I learned a lot of things this summer when I traveled to Italy. I learned so much about history and art and religion. I learned about a different culture and communicated with new words and gestures. I navigated new cities and tasted new foods. I participated in Italian superstitions and witnessed the most amazing architecture. It was one of the very best experiences of my life.

But one lesson I learned was unexpected. I've been trying to describe it in my own words for weeks, but have failed, so I think the best way to illustrate this lesson is through something a fellow traveler said. One girl in my tour group was asked if she was glad she went on this trip without her boyfriend of if she missed him. Her response was something like this:

"I am so glad I did this on my own. It makes me feel confident in myself as an individual. I'm so glad I was able to enjoy the things that make me happy without constantly worrying if he was happy. But...I still wish he was here. It's not that I need him. It's just that when I'm seeing and experiencing such amazing things, I want to turn to someone I love and share it."

I may not have a boyfriend, but I had a similar feeling all the time in Italy. People say that trips like these help you "find yourself", but what I found out about myself is regardless of how independent I am, I like to share. When a tour guide made a joke, I wanted to turn and see someone else laughing. As I stood in awe in front of the Statue of David, I instantly wanted to share the moment with people close to me. I wanted to say, "You should try this" to someone at my table each time I ate something fabulous. In fact, despite my antisocial tendencies, I did reach out to many people in my group. Even with strangers, swimming together in Monterosso and dancing together in Florence and watching soccer together in a pub in Rome made up some of the most beautiful, memorable moments of the trip.

I think life is about human connections and shared experiences. My best days at work are those where I make a connection with a student. And my best personal days are when I laugh with someone or listen to a story.  So, as this new school year gets started, I plan to share myself and my experiences as much as possible. Like my friend on the tour said, it's not that I need someone. I am confident in myself. It's just that when I'm happy, why not share that happiness? When I'm sad or upset, why hold that all by myself? We aren't meant to live in isolation. We are meant to share.

Leaking Love

I keep searching for hands.
Hands to hold me.
Not a hand to hold my hand
or a hand to hold my head up.
Not hands locked around my waist.
But hands to carry the messy innards
of me.

Some say anger boils over,
but the stuff overflowing in me is
a sweeter syrup.
It's hope and love and trust
mixed with a spoon of vulnerability.
It pumps through my veins
and the thumps of my heart
whisper to me, asking me
to give it away.

When I find hands I trust,
that feel strong and soft,
I pour myself into them
without a thought.
Many hands have held my love
and many palms still do.
But many hands have opened up their fingers
and let me slip through.

Most hands hold me tight at first.
I keep them warm and sweet.
But then I give too much and they slowly
let me leak.
I try to catch the falling drops.
I tuck them into my folds.
But you can only self-love so much
before a drop gets through
and hits the pavement with a
splat.