DogwoodTree
Platinum Member
Between Asperger's and CPTSD and depression, I've never really had real friends. There have been people who would let me hang out with them, but I was always "performing" to try to look kinda sorta normal and try to fit in, so no one ever really knew me. Even with my DH, I've tried to play the role of a "functional, normal" wife as much as I knew how so I wouldn't burden him with my idiosyncrasies and peculiarities.
There are a couple of women over the past couple of years who have met with me regularly for lunch/dinner/coffee and conversation, but even with them, even with sharing my story with them, I still didn't feel safe enough to say the things I was really thinking. I always filtered my thoughts very carefully, very thoroughly before voicing them. Until I met this one woman...
Her personality...she's so easy to talk to. I told her early on about my Asperger's, and she's been great about carrying extra responsibility for helping the conversations move along, so then I can focus more on trying to be "real" with her and not get so distracted with "am I doing this right?"
She also has a pretty severe trauma history, and she's further along in her healing journey than I am. She has some training in helping people with trauma recovery (worked with a sexual assault agency or something), and even though that's not what she's doing now, she's one of the leaders for a 12-step group hosted by my new church.
We've talked for hours and hours on the phone. Last night, the conversation was 5 hours (our new record). We chat on Facebook nearly every day. I've never, ever, ever had a relationship with a friend who was this interested in getting to know me, like, the real me, underneath the masks. Ever.
I feel like I'm a little bit in shock, and a lot in awe. And then I'm scared, too. We've only crossed paths face-to-face once since we started talking on the phone, and that was only briefly. I'm not nearly as intelligible in person as I am when writing, and I'm afraid that she won't like me as much once she sees how much I stumble over my own words, and how much I mask my self around people.
And then I'm also worried about my judgment of how "safe" she really is. I've worked long and hard to understand what it means for someone to be safe. I've read books and articles and blogs, watched YouTube videos, and talked extensively with my T and others about what healthy boundaries and healthy relationships look like. I never experienced healthy relationships before, and I'm not totally sure I would recognize it.
About a year and a half ago, I reconnected with a former schoolteacher, someone who had spoken into my life at a critical time, and even though it wasn't really an ongoing relationship, his comment at that time meant a lot to me. But when I reconnected with him, it turns out he's a horny old man who almost immediately started grooming me and trying to establish an emotional-to-turn-physical affair. Once I figured out what was going on (took me weeeks), I cut off the conversation, but I felt so ashamed that I didn't see it coming. T finally pointed out what was happening as I started feeling a little uncomfortable with this guy's texts, and showed them to T.
Although this is a woman, so perhaps it's different, I still wonder how I can know that it's safe to be opening up to her like this. T went over a few points last week, like: she's not trying to "fix me", she's not grabbing for attention, she's not criticizing or judging, she's respecting my story without digging. It seems like she's doing everything right...more than right, even. She shares details of her story, vulnerably, as a testimony for her progress. And she points out how other people helped her along her way, and says she wants to be available to provide that kind of support to me. And she's really open with it, and adds qualifiers like, "But you can take your time, and think about it, and figure out what's right for you. I'll be here if you want to reach out to me, and if you don't, that's okay, too." She's not trying to be a therapist, but she recognizes that sometimes, just being able to share your story, in detail, with someone who is safe, can lighten the load enough for healing to occur.
So on one hand, I feel a sense of caution...to not go too fast, and to test the ice before walking out on it. But on the other hand...dang, it feels like I've spent my whole life looking for a friend like this, someone who could handle the real me, so I don't have to keep masking and pretending, so I can be as broken as I really am, and it's okay.
This is brand new territory for me. I really don't want to screw it up. But ironically, it seems like the relationship's ability to hold my mistakes is actually the test of its measure of safety. It's just so scary to let down the facade, and stand there like a shivering, wet dog with drooping ears and dripping, glory-less fur, wondering if the life in my bones is about to be sucked away down the drain along with the dirty bathwater. I'm fighting off shame attacks left and right, but there are other times where I find myself singing along with the radio again, or actually, truly smiling about something. There's such a sense of peace and release to be heard and understood and accepted. Is this too good to be true?
There are a couple of women over the past couple of years who have met with me regularly for lunch/dinner/coffee and conversation, but even with them, even with sharing my story with them, I still didn't feel safe enough to say the things I was really thinking. I always filtered my thoughts very carefully, very thoroughly before voicing them. Until I met this one woman...
Her personality...she's so easy to talk to. I told her early on about my Asperger's, and she's been great about carrying extra responsibility for helping the conversations move along, so then I can focus more on trying to be "real" with her and not get so distracted with "am I doing this right?"
She also has a pretty severe trauma history, and she's further along in her healing journey than I am. She has some training in helping people with trauma recovery (worked with a sexual assault agency or something), and even though that's not what she's doing now, she's one of the leaders for a 12-step group hosted by my new church.
We've talked for hours and hours on the phone. Last night, the conversation was 5 hours (our new record). We chat on Facebook nearly every day. I've never, ever, ever had a relationship with a friend who was this interested in getting to know me, like, the real me, underneath the masks. Ever.
I feel like I'm a little bit in shock, and a lot in awe. And then I'm scared, too. We've only crossed paths face-to-face once since we started talking on the phone, and that was only briefly. I'm not nearly as intelligible in person as I am when writing, and I'm afraid that she won't like me as much once she sees how much I stumble over my own words, and how much I mask my self around people.
And then I'm also worried about my judgment of how "safe" she really is. I've worked long and hard to understand what it means for someone to be safe. I've read books and articles and blogs, watched YouTube videos, and talked extensively with my T and others about what healthy boundaries and healthy relationships look like. I never experienced healthy relationships before, and I'm not totally sure I would recognize it.
About a year and a half ago, I reconnected with a former schoolteacher, someone who had spoken into my life at a critical time, and even though it wasn't really an ongoing relationship, his comment at that time meant a lot to me. But when I reconnected with him, it turns out he's a horny old man who almost immediately started grooming me and trying to establish an emotional-to-turn-physical affair. Once I figured out what was going on (took me weeeks), I cut off the conversation, but I felt so ashamed that I didn't see it coming. T finally pointed out what was happening as I started feeling a little uncomfortable with this guy's texts, and showed them to T.
Although this is a woman, so perhaps it's different, I still wonder how I can know that it's safe to be opening up to her like this. T went over a few points last week, like: she's not trying to "fix me", she's not grabbing for attention, she's not criticizing or judging, she's respecting my story without digging. It seems like she's doing everything right...more than right, even. She shares details of her story, vulnerably, as a testimony for her progress. And she points out how other people helped her along her way, and says she wants to be available to provide that kind of support to me. And she's really open with it, and adds qualifiers like, "But you can take your time, and think about it, and figure out what's right for you. I'll be here if you want to reach out to me, and if you don't, that's okay, too." She's not trying to be a therapist, but she recognizes that sometimes, just being able to share your story, in detail, with someone who is safe, can lighten the load enough for healing to occur.
So on one hand, I feel a sense of caution...to not go too fast, and to test the ice before walking out on it. But on the other hand...dang, it feels like I've spent my whole life looking for a friend like this, someone who could handle the real me, so I don't have to keep masking and pretending, so I can be as broken as I really am, and it's okay.
This is brand new territory for me. I really don't want to screw it up. But ironically, it seems like the relationship's ability to hold my mistakes is actually the test of its measure of safety. It's just so scary to let down the facade, and stand there like a shivering, wet dog with drooping ears and dripping, glory-less fur, wondering if the life in my bones is about to be sucked away down the drain along with the dirty bathwater. I'm fighting off shame attacks left and right, but there are other times where I find myself singing along with the radio again, or actually, truly smiling about something. There's such a sense of peace and release to be heard and understood and accepted. Is this too good to be true?