CONFLICT AVOIDER: Yep, that's me.

I'm not sure why, but I've felt strangely blocked from blogging over the last week or two. I have several posts lined up in my head, complete with pictures ready to go on my computer, yet something has stopped me (besides the obvious factors of busyness and exhaustion). I suppose I've had the same block when it comes to sewing and crafty projects, so maybe it's just a creativity block in general. In any event, I hope the bloggy cloud over my head dissipates soon.

So I wrote last week about the "retreat" I was going on. I put "retreat" in quotes because it really was not anything that you equate with the idea of a "retreat." Well, okay, it was at a lovely little former convent (at least that's what I gathered from the Catholic imagery everywhere), and I did have wonderful meals cooked for me, and I did get to wear pajama pants basically the whole time. But, I did not get to sleep, play games, or relax in any sense of that word. Nope. The weekend was pretty much the opposite of relaxing. More like being intensely emotionally engaged for like 60 hours straight with about 12 hours of sleep between both nights. (I know 6 hours per night may feel like a luxury when you're used to babies keeping you up, but dang, I am not used to that anymore. Especially not on the weekend after a looong week and combined with crying every ten minutes for three days straight.)

I realize that I'm making it sound like I was tortured all weekend or something. Sleep deprivation...intense emotional work...perpetual crying...I suppose in a way it was torturous. Kind of like flooding, which is a therapeutic technique sometimes used for phobias. Flooding = giving you an overwhelming experience of the thing you most fear, in order to desensitize you to it. So if you're terrified of white rabbits, they put you in a room chock full of them. (This technique is very controversial and thankfully is not used very often in the real world.)

Anyway, this weekend was kind of like that for me. A huge fear I have is of conflict and anger. I have an intense fight-or-flight reaction when someone expresses anger toward me. Even just being around anger that has nothing to do with me can make me extremely tense and uncomfortable. In my broken state, I derive my worth and sense of acceptance from "performing" perfectly, especially in relationship. Thus, I equate confrontation with some kind of relational failure on my end. This all translates to a belief that the person confronting me does not love me and/or is rejecting me. Hence, major anxiety: it's not like I just did something wrong; it's that the entire relationship is in jeopardy, as well as my lovedness, as well as my distinction as someone-who-relates-well. Being confronted threatens my sense of worth by letting me know that I've fallen short in some way. Thus, I avoid conflict as much as possible. These issues have paralyzed me and damaged some very precious relationships in my life. (If you are one of these people with whom I've avoided conflict in a big way, I am so, so sorry. I'm working on it.)

...So, this weekend was very much like flooding when it comes to all of these fears. It was pretty much a whole weekend of intense group therapy (though, I am committed to keeping the details of the weekend's structure confidential). Over and over, I had to both voice my own judgments of others and hear their judgments of me. I had to deal with conflict over...and over...and over again. Not always my own conflict, but even observing others' conflicts triggered me every time. I was confronted by therapists and fellow participants. I was forced to respond, in front of the group, out of the intense emotions that arose from that confrontation.

And the end result of all this exposure? An ever-so-slightly-thicker skin for all of this stuff. The flooding worked. The gift of group therapy is getting to face and experience all these relational fears in a safe and mediated environment, where everyone else is there for the same reason - to stop making excuses and grow already. As one of the therapists told me, it was the perfect environment to begin the desensitization process.

One of the biggest gifts I have taken from the weekend is a slightly deeper acceptance of a very childlike-sounding truth: just because someone's mad at me doesn't mean they don't love me. I'm sad that it's taken me 27 years to actually start believing that. But, I can feel that something's shifted, something deep down in there. Those white rabbits just don't seem quite as threatening as they did before.

I can see the change already, though it's scary to write that because (as part of my issues) I'm afraid of putting it out there as a standard that I now have to live up to in front of y'all. But, I do see the change. I see it in the things I find myself compelled to say as I go throughout my day - my words (I hope) are becoming more direct and more honest, with less fear of others' responses. This will be a daily journey for me, but I can feel a boldness that's been dormant for a good long time. I also see it (and so does he, praise be) in my conflicts with Nate - somehow his confrontation feels less threatening and more...normal. More manageable. That grumpiness I've been carrying around with me more or less consistently for the last six months seems to have magically melted away. I feel...better. Just better.

So, I am incredibly thankful for the weekend I had. It was worth every dollar and every nervous clenching-of-teeth it took to get there and get through it. I am so thankful for those of you who were praying, because honestly, y'all are probably the only reason I made it through. God was so gently and comfortingly present throughout every single risk I had to take. And every one was so worth it. I'm getting there...

P.S. HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!!