Slowly,

Somehow I got myself a really amusing visualization of giving myself a flat tire along the interstate so that I could call Mr. Wonderful to come to my rescue. Well, I know full well that I'd probably pick a time where he had a work crisis, and my knight in shining armor would arrive in his pickup truck PISSED OFF!

Rescuing is not necessarily a tangible act. Nor is being vulnerable. You've forced me to think about something new which I guess I'm feeling compelled to share so I can better illustrate this.

Before me, Mr. Wonderful was a rescuer. He chose weak women who made very poor choices and suffered because of them. He deliberately entered emotional Rs with women who were damaged goods... and yes, I see this very clearly. I also addressed this with MC in my last session with him.

You're wondering how in the world he set his sights on me? Well, here's the deal. I had run away from VA to CA... I moved to Silicon Valley, where I knew NO ONE and started a job that really turned out to be the suckiest thing I'd ever done. My brother had gone to jail, I was still the codependent mediator between my parents, I had no friends out there and no support system. OH, and the love of my life was living in Scotland for 3 years. I was a wreck.

I was such a wreck that I had damaged very long term friendships with others who loved me very much. And I was bone deep weary and lonely.

Mr. Wonderful befriended me--we worked together. He saw me as he did his previous girlfriends... an emotionally wrecked woman, but one who looked hot in a mini skirt! Little did he know that I was in C, I was attending weekly Alanon meetings and I was journaling my feelings. I was also reaching out to others and learning how to make friends without the benefit of them coming to me (it's always been that way for me).

I might have been emotionally hurt at the time he set his sights in my direction, but I was not weak and I was the only person who could pick myself up. And I was taking the measures to get there.

We were friends for 3 months before we became sexually involved. Before our R took that turn and when it took that turn, I was sharing my hurts and vulnerabilities with him (to the extent I was aware). Furthermore, I was wearing them on my sleeve, out for everyone to see. He saw himself as my rescuer: my knight who could build me up and make me whole again.

This film got a different ending, though, thanks to our unmatched expectations. I understood that I was my own rescuer. And over time, he got that too--and there was only one way to go from that pedestal he put me on. I got knocked off for not being who he thought I was.

Being vulnerable means sharing that part of ourselves that is wounded. Being vulnerable means that when the other person offers you the same, that you hold that information dear and never use it against them. Being vulnerable means that when you show a side of you that hurts and the other person soothes that hurt with an action or word, you are grateful for it rather than dismiss them.

Like Rottzilla, I grew up in a time where feminism was rampant. My own mother was turned down from a career in archeology because she was told over and over, "you are a woman, and you will never make it in this field." By the time she had kids, she realized that she should have not taken NO for an answer. And because of that, she wanted me and my sister to dream big, and not allow any man to get in our way.

That meant not buying into the knight in shining armor theory. That meant making goals for myself and setting out to achieve them. It's hard to have it all. I'm not discounting the fact that I think men have it tough too. (I do.) But I learned that there was nobody more capable of taking care of me than me.

What a life!

Betsey

"There are only 2 ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."

Albert Einstein