Living with yourself

I have spent the last few years of my life living with married couples, and it’s given me a lot of opportunity to observe and reflect on the idea of marriage.

I know that I am single, but firmly believe that I am already married–to myself. If there is one person out there whom you do take, in sickness and health, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live, it’s you buddy. Try divorcing yourself–it can’t be done. And I believe living with yourself is more difficult than it sounds.

I believe we are comprised of many selves. I think there’s a tendency for us to view “the self” as singular–one cohesive entity that singularly evolves as time goes on, but I think that is utterly incorrect. Anyone who has observed any kind of human behavior, especially their own, knows that sometimes we do things that don’t make sense. And anyone who’s ever observed themselves knows that we tend to have mixed feelings in a lot of situations–we can be sad something happened, but happy with the outcome.

To experience mixed emotions or make confusing choices while operating with the idea that an optimal (??) person functions as a single entity can be upsetting. I think it sets us up for a cycle of self blame and self punishment because we think that if we punish ourselves enough, we will push ourselves to follow “the rules” and become a healthy adult.

Since having a bit of time to think about it, I don’t think this is an accurate view. This concept of one “self.” I think instead, we have versions of ourselves who exist and share the same space and life and consciousness. Imagine your favorite food, cartoon, toy, pajamas, whatever as a child. For me it’s the color pink and strawberry ice cream–whenever I encounter either of those two things, I am still delighted by them. To me, that’s because the little 3 year old girl who decided those were her favorite things still lives inside me, and when she sees things that delight her, adult Bryoney feels delighted as well.

Similarly, her fears are also my fears, and that’s why sometimes the emotions that I feel toward a situation can sometimes catch me off guard. This isn’t just true for 3-year-old Bryoney. There are impressions of all my ages and experiences who live inside me, working toward survival in the manner that they’ve practiced.

I think the first step to “unifying” our consciousnesses is to accept that there are different parts of ourselves who have to coexist. The second, for me, was to figure out who was driving and who needed to be driving. Then, I had to accept the wounded parts of me would have wounded ways of ensuring their survival. Then I had to learn how to speak sweetly to the different parts of myself, and to trust my own voice when I hear it. Then came the love–the actively learning how to love every single version of myself no matter what shame or shadow was attached to it.

For me, I know that my life works best when “wise inner parent” Bryoney is at the wheel–she’s the one who always makes “the right” choices for my life. My work is to acknowledge and love on the other parts of myself who want my attention, but without letting them drive.

I think that when I was younger, I thought healing meant getting rid of the parts of myself that I “didn’t like,” and I’d just abuse myself as punishment when they resurfaced time and again. As time goes on, I believe that healing means engaging with these parts of myself in the same loving manner that I engage with the parts of myself that I “like.”

I don’t like to fight with myself because what good does that do? Not beating myself up has proved to be one of the most difficult tasks of my life, but life overall has gotten so much easier. I have my ups and downs like everyone else, but there is a general upward trend. And when things surface that confuse me about myself, I try to engage with whichever Bryoney is speaking to me through that action/emotion/desire. As I said before, things have gotten a lot easier.

I’m finally learning to live with myself.