Getting the jump on avoidance #reverb10

Tags

#reverb10, Anxiety, Avoidance, budget, Coping, Depression, expectations, fear of failure, horse dung, perfection, PTSD, survival

Would you believe that I’ve been avoiding the #reverb10 avoidance topic? Yep. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a good reason for that, but then aren’t reasons just justifications for our need to avoid stuff? I kinda think that could be the case…

Beyond Avoidance. What should you have done this year but didn’t because you were too scared, worried, unsure, busy or otherwise deterred from doing? (Bonus: Will you do it?)
~ December 20 prompt

You know what? I don’t believe in “should” any more. “Should” suggests that if you don’t do something, then you’re a bad person or a failure in some way and I think that’s a load of horse dung.

However, I can talk for miles about avoidance. From first-hand experience I can tell you that avoidance is a coping strategy, and if you’re living with PTSD or any other kind of anxiety or depression then you’re gonna be a master of avoidance. You’ll probably even avoid talking about the things you avoid, especially if asked a direct question.

Why? Because the things a person in that situation is avoiding – large or small – are things their subconscious considers dangerous to their mental and/or physical health.

For example: I refused to say the name of my abuser to anyone, even myself. For almost three years I couldn’t write it, think of it and I sure as hell couldn’t say it. Eventually I did, but it almost killed me to get those words out.

My most common reference to that dude was “the guy who assaulted me”. I simply avoided drawing attention to the fact I hadn’t named him and as such, most people didn’t notice. Which was great because for the longest time his name – which is Apu – held a lot of power. Power I allowed it to have, not anything real.

So avoidance is a reaction to fear, and way of surviving when we feel threatened. But the more we give in to avoiding stuff, the less likely we are to do the thing we’re avoiding.

Avoidance in 2010

For the first four months of 2010 I avoided doing much at all about being a yoga teacher. Eventually I nailed myself on that however by telling myself I had to give it a go. As terrifying as it was I knew if I didn’t at least try, I’d kick myself later.

What else have I avoided? Hmmm, I’d say lots of things. I think it’s a standard human response to being busy, stressed or fearful and the best way to combat avoidance is to pay attention to what’s going on. It gets exacerbated by mental health issues, but we all have to deal with it in some way.

As I might’ve mentioned, I’m terrible with money and detest doing my own budget (although if I didn’t have one I’d be completely lost). So every pay day I drag my heels when it comes to looking at my budget spreadsheet, moving money around and paying bills.

Usually it only lasts a few days until I give myself a nudge, but in those days I notice my ever-increasing reticence to this mundane task. There’s a haze of (fake) confusion and overwhelm that grows in direct proportion to my heel-dragging.

Kicking avoidance in the nuts

In the 11 things post, I’ve made a list of the stuff I plan to kick out of my life next year. And if I’m going to avoid anything important, I guarantee you it’ll be something that’s on that list!

I find it helps to have such a list, put it somewhere prominent and then break it down into practical activities I can do. I also use Google calendar to send Future Me reminders because it synchs with my beloved iPhone. Reminders can be about specific tasks or a point in time to review how I’m going. The important thing about the reminders is to act on them as soon as they appear, otherwise they pointlessly float on by.

The other key for me to stop avoiding things is to be okay with what I do make happen. So what if things haven’t turned out exactly I as I wanted? Discarding my expectation of perfection dispels some of the fear of failure, and allows me to act in whatever capacity I can.

And after all, if I completely avoid things I want to do because I’m afraid it won’t work… then it really won’t work, will it?

~Svasti

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Stereotypes & strategies

Tags

Coping, Domestic violence, Stereotypes, Violence against women, Vulnerable

One of the reasons its taken me so long to confront what happened to me is because I was very busy telling myself that it wasn’t so bad… compared to what others have gone through.

There’s a part of me that still feels this is quite a rational point of view. After all, its backed up by some well publicised facts about violence against women.

The stats below are a direct quote from a 2005 ABS survey:

• 363 000 women (4.7 per cent of all women) experienced physical violence
• 2.56 million (33 per cent of all women) have experienced physical violence since the age of 15
• 1.47 million (19 per cent) have experienced sexual violence since the age of 15
• 78 per cent of female victims of sexual assault knew the offender

These stats tell us that violence is prevalent in Australia. But they don’t paint a picture of the demographics, of the lives of the women who’ve been affected. They don’t tell the stories of what happened, to whom and why – which must be as unique as the individuals in question.

Before I was assaulted, its fair to say I thought I would never be ‘one of those women’. If pressed for more details, I’d probably say that ‘those women’ were most likely lower income people, weak and dependent people. I had some idea in my head that most women who experienced assault were in violent relationships. That they were most likely putting up with it, staying on with their guy for some misguided reason. I felt great sympathy for them, and I could see they were emotionally reliant on the men that hurt them – that was my very limited view.

When I was 20, and just before I left for Sydney, my flatmate Colleen, had a violent boyfriend. He was younger than her, possibly a little crazy and he would hit her. They were on/off and Colleen’s friends were doing their best to help her see the light and dump him. But I’ll never forget my surprise and horror when she came home late one night and told me they were getting married. The first thing out of my mouth was not ‘congratulations’. Instead, I asked her about the violence… and she spouted words that could’ve been lifted directly from some cop drama. “He told me he loves me. He said it will be different this time and that he won’t hit me any more”. Riiight.

Luckily the relationship self-destructed before they even got close to getting a marriage licence! But most unfairly, my opinion of Colleen changed from that time on. I began to think of her as a little pathetic. I lost respect for my friend – just a smidgen.

And I truly never imagined that it would happen to me. I never saw it coming, never expected it, not even in the seconds before his fist first connected with my face.

Of course, I wasn’t in a relationship with this man – let’s call him Andre – he was someone that I had been seeing for a few months but I’d called it off. I’d already realised it wasn’t what I wanted, but I was still happy to be friends. Before that one twisted night, there wasn’t the slightest hint of the crazed, angry, aggressive and frightening person he revealed himself to be. Before he actually hit me, when he was just yelling and being abusive, even then I wouldn’t have picked what was to come.

And then it happened. Since that time, I’ve been in denial about joining the ranks of women who have had violence done unto them. Here are some of the little stories (and the sub-text) I’ve been telling myself and my friends:

“It was just one night, after all” – (of course! No big deal really)

“There’s no chance in hell I’d be one of those women who’d stay in a violent relationship” – (so that makes me different, a bit better, not as pathetic, right?)

“Some women are injured very badly, and ongoing – but I was lucky” – (yeah I just got away with a black eye, a possibly fractured cheek bone and some broken glass)

“I don’t have that much to complain about really” – (of course not, post traumatic stress is a breeze!)

“I feel a bit embarrassed talking to a counsellor, because what I went through was pretty mild” – (Surely I’ll be okay in a few months)

Nice stories huh? They are all great strategies for compartmentalising the raging grief and pain I was going through. Mostly because they are partially true and logical, and it was easy to get agreement from other people when I said these things. Even if they didn’t pick up on my sub-text, in my mind they’d agreed to that as well.

Clearly, I’d already drawn a line in the sand between me and the ‘other women’ who go through assault. I was still trying desperately not to see myself as one of them, those people I thought of as weak. Obviously all those years ago, I bought into the stereotypes and because I’d always seen myself as strong and independant, I couldn’t let myself identify with my fellow “assaultees”.

Like my other little strategies, it’s true, there is always someone with a worse story – but that can’t detract or minimise your own experience. It doesn’t help. It doesn’t change or fix anything.

Thinking about my old flatmate from all of those years back, I can say this much – assault as viewed from the outside tells you nothing. Ofcourse, you might be upset for a friend who’s gone through this kind of experience. You might even think the way I did, and see your friend as weak. Please try not to though!

Here’s what you need to know: This sort of violence is penetrative. It is soul rape. It has the potential to rearrange your inner world, to tear it apart, turn it upside down. I say ‘potential’, because not everyone reacts to assault in the same way, ofcourse. But its a very strong person indeed, who walks away from being assaulted with few ill effects.

At present, I’m in a really vulnerable state, because I’m in the process of deconstructing these strategies, clearing away the lines in the sand and acknowledging to myself for the first time how very damaged I am as a result of being assaulted, even if it was only just one night. Even if other people have had much worse experiences.

This is a good thing. It doesn’t make me weak. Allowing myself to be vulnerable, to face the devestation is incredibly difficult. And actually, its this act of taking care of myself that makes me strong.

I’m throwing away the props and distractions.

I’m blowing down the house of cards I’ve been sheltering in.

~Svasti

Next: Depression triggers – part 1