You’re about to read Chapter 18. Want to start this story from the beginning? Go here.
Lesson 18 is the farthest I’ve come with Calling In “The One”.
As you may recall from Chapter Zero, I am currently working my way through this book for the third time.
Take two ended back at Lesson 9, and in my first go-round, I never made it past this very lesson.
Suffice to say I’m quite intrigued to discover what Lesson 19 has in store, but first, Lesson 18 has plenty to offer.
My hungry heart could use some healing
At the exact minute I am typing this, Paul is performing a solo show at a restaurant in midtown.
I so much wish I could be there. Like, SO MUCH.
I made alternate plans instead, and they were awesome: I saw my role model and future colleague Marianne Williamson speak at an event about domestic violence.
But that event was over by 7:45pm and Paul’s show started at 9pm and do you know how easy it would have been to go straight there from Harlem?
Instead I went home, changed into pajamas, popped some popcorn, and wrote him a letter I won’t send.
I told him how bizarre it was that I wouldn’t be there tonight, how I wished I could show my support.
But in truth, staying away is the most loving action I can take.
On his birthday, I wasn’t able to not reach out. But tonight I am able to not show up at his show.
I can withhold my presence without withholding my love.
My hungry heart could use some healing
For years I have worked to heal my wounds, and I have made impressive progress.
And yet, my heart has stayed hungry. To some degree, however small, I have hoped for a partner to give me what my parents couldn’t.
And that is unfair.
“No one can ever really make up for the fact that, for many of us, our parents simply couldn’t love us the way we needed them,” Katherine says. “No one can take on how drastically they failed us.”
Of course she’s right.
The idea that Paul or anyone else could possibly fill that hole is preposterous. Intellectually I know that. And yet in practice, in the presence of actual intimacy, I sometimes notice myself getting needy.
Yet if neediness is a “state of inner deprivation based upon unmet dependency needs in early childhood,” there is no point prodding my partner for comfort.
That’s like looking for oranges at the hardware store—they’re just not going to be there.
I don’t need to stop being needy
Needs are not bad.
In fact, needs are good and important. And it’s also important to attend to them appropriately.
“It’s not that our needs are wrong. It’s that we’ve been going about trying to get them met in the wrong way….You cannot get what was missing in your childhood from another person, until you are actively engaged in doing all that you can to give it to yourself.”—CITO pp.118–119
In other words, when we give ourselves the things our parents didn’t, we become healed enough to attract a partner who is also “healthy and whole enough to love us the way we want to be loved.”
I know this is possible because I had it with Paul.
It was amazing how self-aware we both were. We each took responsibility for our own needs, which allowed our love to flow freely.
We expressed our desires and did what we could to accommodate each other, but not often at the expense of our own priorities.
I guess, just, at some point in a partnership, it is fair to need more.
And that’s where things got confusing.
Lesson 18 in practice
But now is not the time to analyze how Paul and I got off track—assuming we are even off track.
Lesson 18 is about cutting our losses, and giving ourselves what we’ve been waiting to receive from others.
It’s about affirming our value, and deciding to love in the face of all that is not love.
Amen and yes, please, indeed.
To help us realize what our parents did and did not provide, Katherine goes to town with the journaling prompts.
I dutifully detailed the supportive and loving qualities of my parents, as well as the ways in which they let me down.
(I also noticed the gender-typing way she wanted to know when I felt safe with my dad and how connected I felt connected to my mother, but that is a quibble for another time.)
And then I made a list of what was missing from my childhood.
(Since that list would be a definite drag to conjure from scratch, I found her suggested options—everything from unconditional love to basic hygienic care—to be a welcome and helpful guide.)
Then, once we’re fully aware of what we have not received, Katherine asks us to take a magical pledge.
From this day forward, I claim attentiveness as mine fully and completely
As I mentioned earlier, Lesson 18 is the last one I’ve attempted before.
So once I finished the homework, I flipped back in my journal to five years ago and compared my responses.
Surprise, surprise, they were pretty much the same.
Really, though, it makes sense—my childhood experience hasn’t changed.
But what caught my eye was that in both of the lists I created, I called out “attention” as one of the missing qualities that was particularly problematic.
In 2012 I put an asterisk next to the word and wrote “hard one to forgive.”
This time around I drew an arrow and said “needs work/more focus (still want that too much from others).”
So I recited Katherine’s magic pledge for each of the attributes on my list (nurturing, protection, being cherished, attention). But I paid special attention to, well, attention.
That pledge looked something like this:
I, Christina, release and forgive my parents for failing to give me enough time and attention. I give up failing to give enough attention to myself. From this day forward, I promise to do my absolute best to begin attending to myself , and I claim attentiveness as mine fully and completely.
I’m going to try giving away what I truly desire
There’s just one problem with that pledge.
I already pay a TON of attention to myself. All day, all the time. My self-awareness is through the roof, and my self-care isn’t far behind.
I’m all for the re-parenting principle of giving myself what I didn’t get, but, honestly, I’m not sure how much more attention I can give me.
But if I can’t give myself more, maybe I can need less.
Because there’s a reason receiving attention from others means so much to me.
Our attention is truly a finite resource; neurologically, we can only direct it in one place at a time.
(Sorry if you thought multitasking was a thing. It’s not.)
So when someone pays attention, they are truly giving a gift.
And for me, at least for me right now, I think attention is a gift I’m better off giving than receiving.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not in any danger of becoming truly selfless.
But if attention really is something that I seem to desire from others AND that I’m already giving myself, I think giving away what I’d like to receive sounds a decent strategy.
In other words, here’s to humilty.
Love > fear,
Christina
Want to know what happens next? Proceed to Chapter 19.
Missed what happened before? Go back to Chapter 17, or start from the beginning.
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