Standing

Question of the day - When did you learn to stand on your own two feet?

Well, I'm not sure that I have! I think compared to many other women I know, I'm a pretty dependent person. Although the older I get the more I enjoy my alone time but that's not the same thing.

As the youngest of seven kids I think I was pretty spoiled. Not with material things, though I never needed for much, but more in terms of people doing things for, or with me. If I wasn't comfortable doing something on my own I always had a parent or an older brother or sister who would help me through it. And of course I met my husband at the ripe old age of fifteen so he's been around to hold my hand for more than half my life. I have been extremely supported throughout my life but as you may or may not know, there is a fine line between support and enabling.

I recently went on a trip with my sister. We drove to Boston, spent one night in a hotel there before flying out to Savannah, Georgia. We drove from the airport to my niece's house in South Carolina which was a little more than an hour away. We also did a side trip to Charleston for an overnight which was about a two hour drive from my niece's house. My sister handled everything, from soup to nuts! She drove us to Boston in her car, booked the hotel room for our one night stay, booked the flights, handled the rental of the car, booked the B&B in Charleston and did every bit of driving while we were away until she dropped me on my doorstep at vacation's end. She even held my hand as our airplane took off, noticing my tears and knowing my fear of flying.

This has pretty much been my life. Truth be told, I'm very fearful of traveling alone. I think the farthest I've traveled by myself is by car to the Rhode Island shoreline which is about a two hour trip. Driving anywhere I'm unfamiliar with whether near or far, always gets my heart pumping and flying alone? Fugghedaboudit! I shudder at the thought. Could I if I had to? Yes. Would I for enjoyment? No. Facing this fear is something I've yet to tackle.

There was an incident when I was going on forty that made me realize just how dependent I still was. It was after I had a medical procedure done (which both my husband and one of my sisters was present for). My sister, one of two who are nurses, mentioned post-surgery that the procedure may not have taken. It was possible I would need to do a test ( a not so pleasant one) to determine success or lack there of. Knowing how stressed out I was about this possibility she mentioned in passing one day to my doctor, who she saw regularly at the hospital, that maybe he could give me a call. He did call me, and the first words out of his mouth were "Do me a favor. In the future if you have any questions or concerns, come to me directly. Don't involve your sister." It was one of those AHA! moments when I realized that at almost forty years old, I was still playing the role of "baby sister".
I think it's hard to break free from the roles we held as children or we've always held in our families. If it was easy, a LOT of therapists would be out of a job!

Having shared that, I don't believe that having dependency issues in some areas of your life equates to a lack of courage. I've had three children to teach me what being courageous is all about. Being a parent can require the same type of steadfast courage that a soldier brings to the battlefield. I've also been with the same man for many, many years. That certainly requires bravery and a need to stand on your own two feet if you want to maintain any sense of self in your relationship. I have CRAZY courage when it comes to protecting those I love. I can give you an example of one night in particular. My husband, son and I all lay sleeping (my son in his room behind ours) when I awoke to the sound of breaking glass. Thinking perhaps someone had just broken a window I inched my way out of bed, grabbed a large walking stick that my son had carved from a tree branch and made my way s.l.o.w.l.y. down the stairs. Tip-toeing ever so quietly, ready to ward off any intruders with my trusty weapon, one Grandmother's Irish temper and the other one's Swedish Farmer strength. Both things I can access in a heartbeat if need be! Luckily for all involved, there was no intruder. I learned the next morning that the sound I heard came from a beer bottle that was hurled out of a passing car and smashed in the street. Whew! I laugh every time I think of my girlfriend's reaction when I told her this story, "Carrie! Your husband hunts big game in the mountains of Montana. He's been charged by a bear for God's sake. HE'S the man we would all want beside us if we thought there was an intruder in the house and you don't even wake him up?!" What can I say? They say your brain goes into fight or flight mode when it perceives danger. The sensible side of me would choose flight every time if it's an option but when it comes to push or shove and I need to protect myself or my family, I will fight every time.

So when did I learn to stand on my own two feet? I really think it's something we all have the choice to do on a daily basis. Sometimes I'm not so good at it and sometimes I'm great at it. The important thing for me when it comes to this question is to leave the judgment out of it. After all, there are times when standing on your own two feet isn't all it's cracked up to be. As Dr. Phil says, we all need a soft place to fall and I have always been beyond blessed to know that when my own two feet fail me, I am surrounded by loving arms ready to catch me.

XO,
Carrie