“What would life be like if [that one person] didn’t still hold all the space in your life?”

Dr. C. asked me to think about that question and write about it. I originally told her I have no imagination, and I was pretty sure, as I said that, that there was no way I would come up with an actual answer. I had no idea what life would be like. I had no idea where to even start to answer that question. Nonetheless, I sat down in my bedroom recliner with a fleece National Parks blanket and a needy 45lb dog that wanted to be in my lap, and I started writing:

I’m supposed to imagine what life would be like if I didn’t let that person take up all the space in my life. The best place to start is probably what I mentioned in session.

Maybe I’d have a better sense of imagination and the ability to dream, or to identify and communicate needs. My current imagination, I’m told, is actually hyper-vigilance. That makes sense. I’m always poised for the next bad thing or coming up wth worst-case scenarios. Instead of worst-case scenarios, I imagine I’d have new, fresh ideas for solving problems that actually come up (not just imagined), rather than experiencing them as triggers. That’s hard to say, though. Did all of this come from that person, or is it my life since birth?

Here’s what I know. I know I’d fall asleep more easily, and I’d stay asleep. I wouldn’t lie down and immediately feel my heart start to beat harder. I wouldn’t have nightmares that make me question where I was, who I was, or what was actually true. I wouldn’t struggle to fall back to sleep after the nightmare. I’d wake up feeling rested because I actually slept through the night and had adequate sleep.

I could go places without being afraid of where my mind would go. Maybe I’d drive old, familiar streets, regularly have bad coffee at the diner, eat eggs with cream cheese, run at Lake Scranton with friends, eat the sausage, egg, and cheese McGriddle, feel comfortable at church, be okay with touch, and enjoy showers. Maybe I wouldn’t avoid so many adventures, or I’d be okay doing more things with people. Perhaps I’d stop being so afraid to speak the truth. I wouldn’t have to pretend that this person and I are still friends who have just lost touch.

I’d see a lot of good that came out of it, not just the constant guarding to avoid the uncomfortable flashbacks and body memories. I’d recognize how much more courageous I am. I’d see how much more gracious I am. I’m a better human—less legalistic, less ready to judge, and less inclined to be outspoken about someone else’s wrongs. I see people, not just their decisions.

I’m probably more adventurous. In my mind, I’ve been through the worst of it, so who cares what else comes? That’s maybe a little extreme, but I have learned to trust my gut a little more. Maybe with my love for adventure, I’d consider snowboarding again – or going to the one state I avoid.

All the things I noticed and mentioned are good, but I’m noticing that the differences seem so specific. The things I want to be different seem to be part of the reason the issues with this person arose in the first place. I want to have confidence in myself – actually believe I can do things without being afraid of the consequences all the time. I want to do something like quit my job without worrying about disappointing people, and I want to feel like I have what it takes to do anything without “failing” or getting so stressed that my physical or mental health plummets. I want to go back to school without worrying that I’m not smart enough, that I’ll waste the money, won’t measure up in a new job, or won’t pass certification tests.

I want to feel good about setting boundaries or saying “no” rather than feeling guilt or shame, or like I am hurting someone else. I want to know I have permission to change my mind, I want to know I’m not a disappointment, disgusting, or a piece of sh*t.

I want to not just set boundaries but stick to them. I want to say exactly what I’m thinking without worrying about making someone angry, disappointed, or upset. I don’t want to worry about being disliked. I want to be 100% me shamelessly.

Those things aren’t “that person” problems – they probably created “that person” problems. And I think that is why a life in which that person no longer rules my life doesn’t feel so drastic or great.

I was always afraid; it got worse with that person. I was always a cutter; it got worse with that person. I was always depressed and considered suicide; it got worse with that person. I never felt I had autonomy; it got worse with that person. I’ve always thought I was a terrible person; it got worse with that person.

Perhaps what I’m saying is that that person definitely made things worse, but they also only more fully revealed what was already there. Not living as though that person is still in my life will greatly reduce shame and self-hatred, but I’m terrified I’ll still be the same person. I feel relieved both by that discovery and the ability to express it, though. I hold a lot of shame in just being me. That person exponentially made that worse, but that person also gave me a good excuse to “not have it together.” That needs to stop.

Putting that person back where they belong (in the past) makes me feel like I’m back where I started, with no identifiable way out. It’s “someone broke me” becoming simply, “I’m broken.” And I’m more than willing to do the work, but it also feels overwhelming. I have 43 years of feeling “less than,” “damaged,” “not good enough,” and “bad,” among other things. That feels like a lot to overcome for someone who, after 35 years, finally discarded a single object of punishment (that’s a different story). At 43, I finally realized I was the adult. I got to decide right vs. wrong in this one example.

So, actually, maybe putting that person in their place gives me a chance to start healing the other long-standing beliefs about myself. Maybe it gives me a chance to be different, heal, and grow, changing my life to how I want it, rather than always looking to see who is watching, who is disappointed, or who has expectations that I am failing to meet.

---

What can one do with the knowledge I gained while writing my “what if?” Well, I read all four handwritten pages to Dr. C., and she had an idea. You see, between work and the youth soccer league I volunteer with, I have been working to update some bylaws, and I have informed Dr. C. of this. She decided I needed to write my own personal bylaws. But it’s one thing to write bylaws for an existing soccer program that fits into a larger, national league. If necessary, I can copy and paste a significant amount of information. It’s also relatively easy to create bylaws for committees at work. We have several committees, and although they perform different tasks, they all require a similar basic structure. I also have a lawyer who reviews those documents to ensure all information is present and accurate. You know what doesn’t exist? Bylaws for me. I am sure that if I googled ‘personal bylaws,’ it would come up with a great list, but that list isn’t based on my lived experiences, life goals, challenges, values, etc. This is a totally different task. Nope, I am starting fresh on a document that doesn’t truly exist. I am establishing my own set of rules, and no one, not even ChatGPT, can write those for me. So, stay tuned for what I come up with.