The Audible version of “Can’t Hurt Me” by David Goggins, includes a slew of material not in the book. In the elaborated audio version, the first challenge takes on some serious depth. I’m told to write down everything memorable that has had a negative impact on who I am today.
I’ve done this work a bunch of times for other purposes, but not recently. Rather than regurgitating irrelevant stuff, I’m going to limit the writing to those areas I believe are still having a negative impact on my life.
My inventories always start with my parents. Mine were divorced and I lived with my mom and sibling. She did her best but was also struggling and unable to do much to protect, discipline or role model; leaving us to often have to fend for ourselves. While young, I had a handful of rough encounters with pedophiles. They were always people I trusted and it still affects my ability to establish and maintain intimate relationships.
My mom and aunt were also alcoholics and passed the gene on to me. I learned early on how to live the double life of outside appearances versus the chaotic reality. 16 years ago I dealt with the alcohol, but the disease lives on in the forms of sugar, shopping or social media obsessions, rather like a game of whack-a-mole.
My dad was around intermittently, bouncing between wives, children, film industry jobs and all that dazzle. His disregard for my well being and obvious distain of most women, combined with his adoration of my brother, left me with a rather low regard for men as a whole. By the time he passed a few years back, we’d made peace, but it still takes a very special man to gain my respect. Thanks to my unrealistic expectations, few men have the majority of qualities I admire, dooming potential love interests early on.
With my first marriage, I learned about christianity and the hypocrisy inherent in intolerance for the flaws of others. After having been thrown out of my church for “living in sin”, I walked away from organized religion. I’ve spent the rest of my life searching because I know God’s there, I just haven’t found a way or means to sustain connection. They say a God sized hole can’t be filled from the outside, but I can’t seem to fill it from the inside either, so the search continues.
My second marriage brought in the cocaine. The diabolical magic of that drug with alcohol completely blurred my 80’s. and 90’s. I learned about drunk driving, domestic violence, deceit, infidelity and a slew of other behaviors (of mine) that can still fill me with shame. Those memories keep me sober when the rest of me thinks I’ve healed, but it would sure be nice to not be driven by the fear of relapse.
With sobriety and my last divorce, I made a 180 degree life turn. The first was labeling myself a lesbian. I’d always gravitated to physical intimacy with women (as well as men to a lesser degree) but in sobriety I chose a side and demonized the other. That decision and subsequent path, severely narrowed my perspective and opportunities. I’m out the other side of applying labels to myself, and again embracing love where it surfaces, but am still living with the repercussions of having built such a small life.
Lastly, while following a recovery program served a great purpose in separating me from substance abuse, it also created a strong dependency by instilling the fear of trusting my own judgment. I’ve been detached from program for a few years now, but learning to trust that my gut won’t lead me astray is a very slow process.
Done for today. On the up-note, my very first inventory in program was well over 40 pages long, so I’m definitely making progress. lol!