![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The subject line is from an old poem I wrote long ago. Don't try to make sense of it.
Where is my voice? What happened to the little boy I once was, who found it so easy to say things like "I want my mommy," or "Pay attention to me" or could just reach out and hug someone without worrying how they'll react?
I've been reading Hold Me Tight by Dr. Sue Johnson. A lot. I started listening to the audiobook version on my road trip in January, and I've read it again a few times since then, in audio and text format. It rings true on so many levels, and I wish that I had known the material well enough to use it to try to save several of the relationships that I've lost over the last 2-3 years.
I particularly like her theory about thinking of love as a Darwinian advantage, that love evolved out of a need to protect ourselves, and how being in love feels secure precisely because it offers us a very real, very primal sense of security.
( Read more... )
This pretty neatly sums up just about every relationship I've ever lost or seen end. But as with so many books, I fear that it is much easier to agree with than to put into practice.
...
...
... and while none of that is really about what is going on inside of me right now, at least I've written something, started trying to express myself again.
When I move to Chicago, deep in the throes on relationship angst, I kept telling people, "Small steps. I just want to take small steps. Don't ask me to make a leap of faith." After reading this book, I feel like most of the choices I made back then were ultimately counterproductive. Maybe that part was wise. Maybe I should go back to that.
Where is my voice? What happened to the little boy I once was, who found it so easy to say things like "I want my mommy," or "Pay attention to me" or could just reach out and hug someone without worrying how they'll react?
I've been reading Hold Me Tight by Dr. Sue Johnson. A lot. I started listening to the audiobook version on my road trip in January, and I've read it again a few times since then, in audio and text format. It rings true on so many levels, and I wish that I had known the material well enough to use it to try to save several of the relationships that I've lost over the last 2-3 years.
I particularly like her theory about thinking of love as a Darwinian advantage, that love evolved out of a need to protect ourselves, and how being in love feels secure precisely because it offers us a very real, very primal sense of security.
( Read more... )
This pretty neatly sums up just about every relationship I've ever lost or seen end. But as with so many books, I fear that it is much easier to agree with than to put into practice.
...
...
... and while none of that is really about what is going on inside of me right now, at least I've written something, started trying to express myself again.
When I move to Chicago, deep in the throes on relationship angst, I kept telling people, "Small steps. I just want to take small steps. Don't ask me to make a leap of faith." After reading this book, I feel like most of the choices I made back then were ultimately counterproductive. Maybe that part was wise. Maybe I should go back to that.