Watching the thinker
I'm seeing a therapist for the first time in my life. It's always been important to me to be strong - I've been trying to prove how strong I am my whole life. I want to show the world that I can do anything - overcome any obstacle - work through any problem - all on my own. When I was pregnant at 14, and the world seemed to be telling me that I was doomed to failure, and I wouldn't realize my plans of going to college and being successful - I was determined to prove them wrong - and I did.
About a week ago, I decided that maybe I could use some help. I was struggling to control my emotional reactions to my husband's newfound friendship. He made a friend - the first friend he'd made on his own since high school - and it made me jealous. I was angry - resentful - sad. I felt like he was choosing someone else over me. He'd rather spend time with this guy than with me. In my mind, he would leave me to be with this friend if he could, and was grateful for the chance to get away from me. It shut me down. I didn't want to talk to him or be with him (and I wanted desperately to be with him at the same time). I wanted to curl up in a ball in a dark room alone and cry. I wanted to wallow in despair, and I returned to my teenage dreams of dying. I wished that something would kill me so I wouldn't have to cope with the way I felt.
Where was this coming from? The critic in me was disgusted - "How pathetic and weak you are", it said. "How old are you, 13?" It chided. I realized it was the same old thing in me - the fear that I'm unwanted, unimportant, insignificant, unloved. The fear that my husband secretly desires to leave me and is waiting for an opportunity. I felt desperate - would I ever believe that I'm worthy - that I'm loved? Would I ever find a way out of suffering? It seemed like I wouldn't.
I like my therapist. She referred me to a good book - "The Power of Now" by Eckhardt Tolle. In this book he promises an end to suffering. He speaks of his darkest moment - he was going to commit suicide because he had decided that he could no longer bear the suffering - he could no longer bear living with himself. And at that moment, he realized that there must be two of him - the 'I' that cannot live with the 'self' - and one of them might be false - made-up. This isn't a new concept for me (being raised by hippies and having read books like "The Impersonal Life" and "Be Here Now" since I was about 8 years old), but I'd forgotten it.
The mind creates this self or identity, an we assume it is who we are. There is a thinker in us - a thinker who interprets and judges and forms pictures - a critic who constantly comments on everything we see and do. Tolle says, if we can watch the thinker, we realize that it isn't us - it's something created over time by our experience of life. The thinker's view is filtered by all of our experiences and our decisions about those experiences. The view is limited and shaped by our emotional reactions - and the thinker's view is the cause of all of our suffering. Acknowledging that we are not the thinker can bring an end to suffering.
My parents divorced when I was 4 years old - the thinker decided: "My Dad left me because he doesn' t love me anymore. Just because someone says they love you, and they'll love you forever no matter what, doesn't mean they won't change their mind one day when something better comes along or things get too hard." When I was 17, my husband (boyfriend at the time) left me for another girl. The thinker said "See - I told you - he said he would love you forever, but now you have a kid and it's too hard, and he likes this girl better than you, so you're out." And I forced him to come back to me. Since then, we've aknowledged all that happened - that he was afraid and felt trapped, and was trying to escape a terrifying situation. That I did force him to come back to me - out of fear of being unloved and unwanted. We acknowledged all of that, and then we chose to be together. He chose to be with me - not because he was forced, but because he wants to be with me and no one else. Because he finds me beautiful and fascinating, strong and intelligent, everything he wants in his partner for life.
Now - my husband gets a friend and wants to spend time with him on the weekend, and the thinker chimes in "See - he said he wants to be with you and would rather spend time with you than anyone else, but now he's found someone he likes more and you aren't nearly as important as you thought you were to him." The thinker continues, "He probably doesn't even really love you - I bet he's wishing every day that he could get away from you and just pretends to love you because that's easier. There are no guarantees." And - I forget that the thinker is there, and that the thinker is almost always wrong - and I believe her because I believe she is me.
Reading the book has reminded me that I am not the thinker - I am not my mind. Detaching from the thinker and observing her, separate from me, does give me peace. If you observe the thoughts without identifying them as yourself, they lose power. This doesn't mean I won't be thwarted by the thinker again - I am every day - but it helps to be aware, and I can remind myself to stop the thinker and acknowledge that without all her definitions of who I am and what people think of me, I simply am.
About a week ago, I decided that maybe I could use some help. I was struggling to control my emotional reactions to my husband's newfound friendship. He made a friend - the first friend he'd made on his own since high school - and it made me jealous. I was angry - resentful - sad. I felt like he was choosing someone else over me. He'd rather spend time with this guy than with me. In my mind, he would leave me to be with this friend if he could, and was grateful for the chance to get away from me. It shut me down. I didn't want to talk to him or be with him (and I wanted desperately to be with him at the same time). I wanted to curl up in a ball in a dark room alone and cry. I wanted to wallow in despair, and I returned to my teenage dreams of dying. I wished that something would kill me so I wouldn't have to cope with the way I felt.
Where was this coming from? The critic in me was disgusted - "How pathetic and weak you are", it said. "How old are you, 13?" It chided. I realized it was the same old thing in me - the fear that I'm unwanted, unimportant, insignificant, unloved. The fear that my husband secretly desires to leave me and is waiting for an opportunity. I felt desperate - would I ever believe that I'm worthy - that I'm loved? Would I ever find a way out of suffering? It seemed like I wouldn't.
I like my therapist. She referred me to a good book - "The Power of Now" by Eckhardt Tolle. In this book he promises an end to suffering. He speaks of his darkest moment - he was going to commit suicide because he had decided that he could no longer bear the suffering - he could no longer bear living with himself. And at that moment, he realized that there must be two of him - the 'I' that cannot live with the 'self' - and one of them might be false - made-up. This isn't a new concept for me (being raised by hippies and having read books like "The Impersonal Life" and "Be Here Now" since I was about 8 years old), but I'd forgotten it.
The mind creates this self or identity, an we assume it is who we are. There is a thinker in us - a thinker who interprets and judges and forms pictures - a critic who constantly comments on everything we see and do. Tolle says, if we can watch the thinker, we realize that it isn't us - it's something created over time by our experience of life. The thinker's view is filtered by all of our experiences and our decisions about those experiences. The view is limited and shaped by our emotional reactions - and the thinker's view is the cause of all of our suffering. Acknowledging that we are not the thinker can bring an end to suffering.
My parents divorced when I was 4 years old - the thinker decided: "My Dad left me because he doesn' t love me anymore. Just because someone says they love you, and they'll love you forever no matter what, doesn't mean they won't change their mind one day when something better comes along or things get too hard." When I was 17, my husband (boyfriend at the time) left me for another girl. The thinker said "See - I told you - he said he would love you forever, but now you have a kid and it's too hard, and he likes this girl better than you, so you're out." And I forced him to come back to me. Since then, we've aknowledged all that happened - that he was afraid and felt trapped, and was trying to escape a terrifying situation. That I did force him to come back to me - out of fear of being unloved and unwanted. We acknowledged all of that, and then we chose to be together. He chose to be with me - not because he was forced, but because he wants to be with me and no one else. Because he finds me beautiful and fascinating, strong and intelligent, everything he wants in his partner for life.
Now - my husband gets a friend and wants to spend time with him on the weekend, and the thinker chimes in "See - he said he wants to be with you and would rather spend time with you than anyone else, but now he's found someone he likes more and you aren't nearly as important as you thought you were to him." The thinker continues, "He probably doesn't even really love you - I bet he's wishing every day that he could get away from you and just pretends to love you because that's easier. There are no guarantees." And - I forget that the thinker is there, and that the thinker is almost always wrong - and I believe her because I believe she is me.
Reading the book has reminded me that I am not the thinker - I am not my mind. Detaching from the thinker and observing her, separate from me, does give me peace. If you observe the thoughts without identifying them as yourself, they lose power. This doesn't mean I won't be thwarted by the thinker again - I am every day - but it helps to be aware, and I can remind myself to stop the thinker and acknowledge that without all her definitions of who I am and what people think of me, I simply am.
posted by Jaybee at 6:05 AM
2 comments
