Eric loves for me and/or Zarina to go on orienteering trips with him. He feels disappointed when we choose not to. However, once he is at the event, he is always happy and is never stuck pining away for us. When either or both of us choose to go on an orienteering adventure with Eric, we generally enjoy the orienteering, but are almost invariably frustrated by the logistical challenges of traveling with Eric. We find his driving overly aggressive, and he is habitually late.
The decision about whether to go to Anza Borrego felt very fraught. And this was a very familiar feeling to me; it comes up whenever I try to decide to do anything together with Eric, my partner of 18 years. There is an underlying story that if I choose not to go with Eric, thereby disappointing him, there will be dire consequences of some kind. This story really clouds my decision-making and takes the joy out of it.
Today I was on the phone with Eric and Zarina, talking about this, and together we decided to do an impromptu co-counseling session where they would give me space to go deeply into this story. And I did so. I went much more deeply into it than I ever had before.
I actually found three stories operating:
- My younger brother Paul, as a young child, is struggling in life. He is unhappy and he doesn't know how to make himself happy. He acts out a lot. I desperately want to make him happy. I keep trying but I don't know what to do. I feel so, so sorry for him. I feel deeply sad, and angry. Why is he so unhappy? It's not fair! Why am I doing OK, and he isn't? Why is he struggling? I just hate that he is struggling so much and I am so, so sad that I cannot reach him! (This story actually happened. Paul struggled off and on throughout life, and eventually committed suicide, at age 40.)
- I am trying to hold onto somebody very dear to me. I have to do and say enough of the right things to keep them near to me. If I don't do enough of these things, they will float away, just like an untethered spacewalking astronaut. Once untethered, they will float away irretrievably, and no matter how desperately I call after them, no matter how hard I try to reach out to them and pull them back, they are gone, disappearing as I watch.
- I have a fantasy from childhood that my parents, my two brothers, and I are walking happily across a grassy field, hand in hand. We are wearing gauzy clothing and we are completely content. There is no conflict. We live happily ever after. As this fantasy plays in my mind, the song, "Everybody's Talkin'" plays. The song brings up a deep sense of melacholy.
Wow, this was fascinating to see.
I saw that I project the story about Paul onto Eric. Eric has, in fact, struggled a lot (or at least this is the story he tells). His struggle is to fit into the world well enough to survive, to work hard enough to make a living and to please his partners. The story about Paul has been richly activated on a few occasions when Eric has spoken emotionally about his struggles and I have responded with despair and pity, even tears. When Eric asks me to go on orienteering trips with him, I imagine that by going on a trip with him I can make him happy, at least for a while, and relieve his suffering. I know that it is not a permanent solution but I feel guilty that I do not struggle as much as he does so I assuage that guilt by giving of myself in order to allow him some temporary happiness. (As an aside, I act out this story also by giving regularly to people, mostly strangers, who appear to be suffering due to disadvantage.)
I saw also that I project the story of the untethered astronaut onto Eric. I fear that if I don't say "yes" to enough of his requests (for travel, for sex, for assistance) that I will lose him forever. (I also act this out to some extent in every close relationship I have.) I imagine this story arose when I was a baby or toddler, with regard to my familial relationships, perhaps mostly my relationship with my mother.
Finally, I saw that I project the childhood fantasy onto prospective orienteering adventures. I imagine that such adventures could, at least someday, provide the simple, carefree happiness I find in the fantasy. If I don't go on any of those adventures, I won't find that happiness. This explains why I am often blindsided by the logistical difficulties of these adventures, even though travel with Eric has been logistically difficult for me from the very beginning. In delving into this with Eric and Zarina today, I saw that I believe I am somehow entitled to carefree travels with them, and I saw anger that after 18 years I am still finding it difficult to travel with Eric and that I am resentful about it.
I wondered, and wonder, in what ways Eric actively plays into these stories in order to get sympathy, and in order to satisfy his desires. I wonder how I can become free of these stories. Maybe some Byron Katie work?
I apologized to Zarina on this call. She has pointed out on numerous occasions that I seem to be captivated by an image of Eric as a little boy, and that I thus capitulate to him, baby him, coddle him, and fail to expect that he behave like a man. Until today I had not acknowledged the extent to which she has been correct.
