I've been advised by more than one counselor that changing my expectations is a way to avoid setting myself up for future pain. In some cases, I think it's a good strategy. Don't get your hopes up for a new job. Just apply and see what happens. Otherwise, you risk being disappointed. Especially if there's a past pattern of you not getting what you want from particular people in your life, don't expect it of them, and you won't be disappointed.
This is a sensible approach; however, it's easier said than done. It's an approach that has failed me repeatedly when I've tried to use it with my immediate relatives. I have a theory that some of us who grew up in dysfunctional families have a subconscious part of us that I call the pernicious optimist. The optimist has been taught what a family is from a young age. It clings to the belief and hope that a mother will be motherly, a father will be fatherly, and a sibling will form a bond with you that's closer than a bond with your closest friend. This is how the world works, according the optimist. This is how these roles function. The fact that these roles can and should function this way is a belief that the optimist refuses to let go of because, as an optimist, she has to believe that things can be better. She has to believe that there's a chance. She must have hope. Changing your expectations is a logical endeavor. Logic is a great and important thing that, in my experience, is often completely ineffective against deep, emotional issues. For years, I've tried reasoning with the pernicious optimist in me to get her to change her expectations, but the conversation has gone something like this: Me: You know that your father is never going to change and behave differently toward you, right? Optimist: But he's my father. I only want him to do what he's supposed to do. Me: Yes, but he doesn't know how, and it really sucks when you keep believing he can and might behave differently someday, despite my telling you he won't. It's not his fault, but he can't be your father the way you want him to be, not the way you think of someone as being fatherly to you. Optimist: But he's my father. Me: No, he was the guy who impregnated the woman who gave birth to you. Don't you see? That doesn't make him a good father. Remember when he screamed at us and threatened us on the phone yesterday? Optimist: But he's my father. I need a father. Me: Sigh. I know you do. Telling the optimist to expect abusive behavior (but not tolerate it) and to expect a lack of interest, concern, and support from immediate relatives is like speaking a different language to it. It doesn't understand me. It cannot comprehend. We're conditioned to believe that our mother, father, and siblings function as our core support group that offers us unconditional love and emotional intimacy. That is the picture that society paints for us our whole lives (not a picture of a group of emotionally distant, self-involved people who behave abusively toward each other and take little to no interest in each other's lives). That conditioning is very strong - strong enough to create an inner optimist that can't let go of that conditioning, even when those people habitually emotionally abuse us instead behaving in a loving way toward us. I have decided to admit that the subconscious optimist in me is real, pernicious, steadfast, stupid, and beyond my ability to control. It continually sabotages my efforts to change my expectations. I've tried repeatedly to reason with it, but I don't know if it can be reasoned with. It may always want what it wants, no matter what I do. Just like I can't prevent my stomach from getting hungry or my body from getting tired, I may not be able to prevent my optimist from wanting the kinds of relationships it wants with the people who were assigned the roles of mother, father, and sibling. Ultimately, in order to love and protect myself, I've had to exercise some tough self-love and endeavor to kill the pernicious optimist. I've taken away its contact with my immediate relatives in order to take away all of its hope. I've stopped using the word "family" to refer to them and have chosen the word "relatives" instead. It was a terrifying step because the optimist is strong and has held me hostage for many years, but it had to be done. I must stop the optimist from getting us hurt over and over again. Conversely, I love my inner dreamer. I always have. She's the part of me who wants to make giant art projects and tell amazing stories. She wants to draw, play music, make costumes, and believe that the possibilities for artistic expression are limitless. My inner dreamer gets to stay and play - gets to sustain and support me. She can dream as big as she wants. My pernicious optimist needs to die.
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Just. Make. Art.
without doubt or inhibitions without judgment or comparison Just make art. visual, musical, physical. Spiritual. of light, of sound, of junk you found Just make art. small or large, crafty or deep Make it boldly. Make it for making it’s sake For the love of it never judging it only learning from it Just. Make. Art. |
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February 2018
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