The Gift of Double Binds; Learning to Receive

The Gift of Double Binds; Learning to Receive

DK Crawford

Have you ever wanted with all of your heart to repay someone but haven’t been able to? Have you had someone give you a gift that changed your life so deeply that you yearned to give to back to him, only to find out it’s impossible to do? I have had it happen before and now I’m having it happen again. I am living a life inequality that’s making me so very frustrated! At first I was certain the flaw lies in their ability to receive, now I’m realizing perhaps it’s in mine.

Maybe I’ve seen too many mobster movies where when someone does you a favor, you owe them a favor in return? Are there times when we are only allowed to receive? Or is this some kind of mind fuck where someone is only comfortable being the one who gives? Please tell me! Do I let it go? Or keep looking out for something perfect to appear? I don’t want to let such huge moments pass without recognition but I’m being thwarted by the double-bind demons.

I’ve had so many situations in my life where I’ve been able to come to another person’s aid in times of crisis. It’s like something I was born to do, and when I can, I do it gladly. And no I don’t expect anything in return and yes I feel fulfilled just by giving. “Hey wait!” you ask, “Maybe that’s how they feel too?”

Most of my life I’ve been strong and in control and more than ready to offer help. The giver role is secure and strong and I’m competent in assessing how to save or assist another in need. But the receiver role is scary, vulnerable, yin and feminine -- something I honestly don’t know how to do well and when I’m forced into those situations, I’ve been simply amazed with the graciousness of others who appear to help me.

A few years back I had a fairly new friend step in and help me when my soulmate dog Noop was sick. He’d become seriously swollen under his jaw and we ended up in an emergency situation that also became a strain on my relationship. That day, I had no one else who could be at my side as I waited for tests and tried to negotiate big choices and very expensive decisions. I sat at the large veterinary clinic terrified, my blood was like ice running through my veins and I couldn’t get warm. I was so alone and so terrified trying of losing him, I ended up reaching out on for prayers. And with that moment of vulnerability, this new friend of mine volunteered to come to the hospital with me, be an extra set of ears, and sit with me throughout the day.

It was challenging to cry big snotty terrified tears in front of this person and simultaneously walk through all the information. I even had to choose how much I wanted him resuscitated or not before continuing tests and it that completely unhinged me. I walked of the sterile environment through the automatic glass doors forcefully into the sunshine. I needed to get warm and breathe in real oxygen. I felt like a crazed animal myself and the nurse with the clipboard trailed me, not quite sure what to do with me, and so did this new friend. She stayed in the ring, She advocated, in a quiet and loving way, rubbed my shoulders and helped me walk through brought a tunnel of fire for. I assumed at this moment I’d made a friend forever, that we’d forged a bond and I was eternally in her debt. When things began to finally stabilize with my pup, I turned my attention on her as best as I knew how. But when I tried to put words on things and show my gratitude, I was met with statements like “only those who know me for a long time get to know my story and are truly my friends.” I felt shut out; she let me know that even though she’d seen me through this intensity, only time and lots of it would tell if we were meant to be true friends. I felt lost.

Recently I became very ill and my sister stepped in to help me. She came and stayed with me, said prayers over me, fed me healing foods and helped me with my home and life. Her love and caring and devotion during that time managed to remind me that I was worthy of love, (something I’d forgotten along the way), and in some ways, even more than once in my life, I’ve felt like I owe my very existence to her. She has, (as we say in the south), “pulled me through a knothole”. She’s reminded me that I am loved and lovable, and tenderly taught me how to be patient with myself, take care of myself, nurture my soul, and walk through my fears with me one baby step at a time. She showed me so much and I felt so close to her, I couldn’t wait until I was well enough to give back. I even fantasized on how I could help her, either working on her house, or by giving her the type of special gifts she always longed to give me. And I tried. I went to her home and tried to dust or work on a project, but it wasn’t ever the right time. Or I would visit, trying to fill her house with love but inevitably I’d upset some balance or break something or cause her to feel unwell. The harder I tried, the worse things seemed to be. I also scouted out a new jewelry store, wanting to find a special piece to give her to symbolize this bond we’d shared in coming through the crisis, but that also didn’t feel right. She’d become so financially tapped that the idea of spending money on something extravagant wasn’t something she wanted. I thought of giving her cash, which may meet a temporary need, but I wanted to do something more that would show my love and devotion in a different way.

So I bombed out on the giving. Yes I’ve given small gifts and help to them, but nothing that feels like it comes close to showing how much they meant to me and thanking them properly.  But when I really listened to what they were saying, one wanted the slow longevity of time and consistency which might earn a special placement in her life, and the other, my sister, wanted to honor money differently and not live extravagantly and to just have time and space to do her own healing or work on her own projects. I want to honor them both, but I guess I wanted a more immediate thank you given for these significant passages -- thus the double bind. I originally took it personally, as though they were saying, “I can help you but you cannot effectively help me,” but now I’m realizing that you only need that kind of giving when you’re in your own personal crisis and thankfully neither of them are right now. So? what I can do is give time and be available to give in small ways and promise not to ever forget the caring I received. Perhaps I’ll get to give more to each of them, or perhaps like a giant time bank, because they gave to me, another will one day give to them, but at the very least I learned there is no equal equation for giving and receiving no matter what mob movies might say. In my life, all I can do is be present and thankful I had them both during such challenging times and pray that I, or another will be there for them when they need it most.

Meet Me in the Middling

(photo by DK Crawford do not remove or reuse without permission ©2015)

Meet Me in the Middling

DK Crawford

Is it OK that I'm in love with beginnings rather than middles or ends? 

Beginnings symbolize hope and possibility and new life and freshness. Whereas middles represent mellowing, maturing, malaise, comfort, boredom and process. And endings mean letting go, completion, change, but also I suppose are the harbinger of a possible beginning around the corner.

I am trying to teach myself to treasure the middle as the sweet spot, the gold it truly can be. In it lies neither the tumult or exhaustion of a beginning or an ending. It is the soft, creamy center you can wallow or sink into and rest for a while. It is the hammock delicately hanging between two hard places -- a spot to catch your breath -- to wallow, rest, and dabble for a bit. 

Middles are the cat that curls up to you just right, the dog that sleeps on your feet. They are not the electrified kitten that captivates your every waking moment, nor are they the puppy that eats your slippers. They are also not the aging creature that requires your constant attention to feel ok in the world. Middles are that perfect cushion of brief contentment we all long for when the world is tossing and turning, but we forget about when we become briefly comfortable. 

Fear not if you're "middling", instead consider embracing the grace offered in its softness. Know soon enough change and excitement, will show up at your door, with their steamer trunks packed with beginnings and endings and you'll be off on another life-changing adventure, hanging by your toes. But for now, or whenever you can get them, middles are where it's at! Grab all those creamy, dreamy moments you can and bask in the boredom!

Sitting in the Essence of Now; Preparing to Live Differently

Sitting in the Essence of Now; Preparing to Live Differently

DK Crawford

They say an alcoholic has to hit rock bottom before he will truly change his life. And abused women go back to their abusers an average of seven times before they garner the courage to leave. Smokers who quit can have phantom dreams the rest of their lives that they are packing cigarettes, lighting them and taking deep lung-filling inhales. And many people never get the motivation to truly live until they are afraid time is running out due to an illness or circumstance. What is in us that fights positive changes and keeps us wanting to hide in life-limiting behaviors? And why can some appear to break free and rise above the fray, to transcend what scares, limits or hurts them?

Perhaps being bad says we're alive and have time to kill. When we are part of a bad behavior, it ties us to the earth and life. We are saying 'we can handle it', 'we have time to figure things out later" -- there is something sleepy and hypnotic about being caught in bad dynamics. Being conscious and choosing to change, desiring to live better, be productive and have the life you dreamed of can bring up fears a surprising number of fears -- fears that we aren't good enough or worthy of being alive, and fears that we won't live forever. Somehow choosing and creating one's life can make everything a little too real.

I remember speaking to a brilliant therapist as my mother was dying. A man of few words, a crisis counselor, and a bit of a curt egghead. I was wanting to do something but caught in my usual procrastinations and he casually suggested that perhaps I procrastinate because I'm really afraid of dying."How's that?" I replied and scoffed. "Success leads to progress and progress leads to death," he said simply. "Go home and think about it." I walked out boggled and irritated but ultimately everything he said was so poignant and spot on for me. He had my number. 

"Do I fail to put in a real effort in life because it gets me in the real time flow of things and with that realization I have that much more to lose?" I started asking myself such odd questions. If I drag my heels on growing, aging, having a family, etc., will I really know I'm aging? If I don't plan for retirement will I somehow magically cease to get older? If I never fully risk to love deeply and have a family and feel those deeper connections will I not be as hurt?

I was sure I would die before the age of 30 and drank, smoked and took huge risks that could have taken me out many, many times. There but by the grace of God went I. But now I'm my 40s and still shocked I'm here and yet, instead of jumping on the wagon and accepting I'm middle-aged and time is precious, part of remains cryogenically frozen in what might have been. Part of me chooses to remain in shock that I'm still here rather than truly risking to change my life. "If I never fully accept I'm here, do I not have to really die?"

Part of my healing has been in trying to be here, now. There is something grace(filled) in accepting the present and exactly what is around you at any given moment. Through truly looking at my blessings and touching, seeing, hearing, and being aware of my environment, I found myself more grounded and aware of my whole being and with that, I am actually, for the first time, starting to feel love, connection, empathy and hope for the person I am right now. I think for so many years I was in the past or the future in my mind and avoiding looking at the now. I remember my father saying he thought I was running away from something and he was right. I was running from my true reality and what I can do to actually influence it.

I sit here now, in my essence, more grounded, and wanting to learn how to not fear making choices that inform and influence my future. This is the first time I've felt I can choose more how I eat, how I love and what I want to try to bring into my future. And perhaps somewhere in there is also some acceptance of my inevitable death and my part in the natural order of things -- maybe a slight opening to that reality. I/we can't escape it, but numbing ourselves with abuse, drugs, cigarettes, fat, sugar, or avoiding goals and choices doesn't actually stop the progress of things. It only means we surrender to hiding from something we are letting usurp our power by choosing paralyzing, stagnating behaviors. If "success leads to progress and progress ultimately leads to death" then the opposite is "failure leads to stagnation and stagnation leads paralyzation?" It's an illusion that time stands still if we ignore growth, but it can placate us when we are afraid. Logically we may know certain things are inevitable but inherently I think so many of us hold on to things and ways and behaviors, even destructive ones, as our antithesis to death.