What About Love?

Recently, I made a new friend--which, let's face it, is something that becomes exponentially more difficult after graduating from college.  I always get excited about new friends, because a) they don't happen that often, and b) I often wish I had more of them.  As a textbook introvert, I have a small number of very close, deep friendships, but I tend to run into trouble when those few friends go out of town or can't be reached by phone.  So, the promise of an authentic bond with a new person feels exciting and refreshing, but also brings along with it some feelings of caution.  Despite my craving for close connection, there were many years in which friendships definitely were not my most successful endeavors.  Even now that I am in recovery, when I enter into a new relationship I always have in the back of my mind the thought, "Don't make the same mistakes you used to make."

During my eating disorder, one of my biggest liabilities in relationships was my neediness.  At that time, I had very, very few friends--there just wasn't room for many of them in my life alongside anorexia.  I was desperately lonely, and as a result I clung tightly to anyone who promised connection.  Since I had so little self-worth I usually felt incredulous when someone actually wanted to be my friend...and then I lived in fear that one wrong move on my part would sabotage the entire operation.  I went overboard trying to endear myself to others via what one of my friends calls the, "Love Me, Love Me Dance"...and every time one of my emails or phone calls went unanswered, I experienced utter devastation and was certain that I accidentally had done something terrible, that the friendship was over.  I hated myself for being so needy, yet I couldn't help it--that hunger for love was so wide and so deep that I felt it would never be satisfied.

Many years of therapy and a few lasting, precious friendships later, I am relieved and happy to say that I no longer approach relationships with anywhere near that degree of clinginess.  As I've gained a genuine sense of self-love, I've found that I'm much more able to connect with others in a way that feels healthy.  And yet, remnants of former insecurities remain, and I occasionally still worry that friendships I hold dear will one day vanish.  I know how to manage those anxieties and understand that they are not, in fact, grounded in reality...but, there they are, nevertheless.  Recently I read something in the book, Toward a Meaningful Life:  The Wisdom of the Rebbe Menachem Mendel Schneerson, that offered me some insight into the link between self-love and loving others:

"If you don't find a way to love G-d, to love the G-d that resides in your soul, you will find yourself in a constant search for love.  We may even turn to unhealthy forms of love to replace this lack of inner love."

To me, this makes perfect sense:  when I didn't love myself at all, I needed others to do all that loving for me--and there was no amount of "other-love" that would satisfy the void inside myself.  Now that I do have a healthy dose of self-love in my life, now that I recognize the
G-dliness within myself, I'm free to enjoy--but not cling to--positive connections with other people.

Recovery is all about learning, and some lessons I learned the hard way.  There were relationships of mine that suffered in large part because of how I approached them.  But, although there was a time when I truly hated myself for "ruining" those connections, I don't feel that way anymore.  Was it unfortunate?  Absolutely.  Was it the best I could do at the time, with what I had?  Yes.  And, going through this evolution of how I approach relationships has made me more able than ever to tune in to myself and assess how I am contributing to a connection:  too much, to little, or just right?  It's not a perfect science and sometimes there are adjustments to be made...but, I also know that I'm not in danger anymore of reverting to my old imbalanced system.

Recovery is a tough journey, and I wish that all of us have friends to walk it with us.  I hope that we can all achieve a genuine degree of self-love and self-worth that will make those connections possible!

Hod

This is the week of hod--humility--the counterpart of netzach (victory).  I'll admit that I've been having a little trouble solidifying my thoughts on humility, because I think it can be a tricky concept for people in recovery.  For those of us who struggle with "black-and-white thinking," it's easy to get on the humility train and ride it straight into relentless self-criticism and self-loathing.  It's true that part of humility is acknowledging our own shortcomings and our "smallness."  But, how can we do this while also remaining self-affirming?

In reading about hod, I found an article containing a quote that resonates with me strongly:

A full cup cannot be filled.  When you're filled with yourself and your needs, "I and nothing else," there is no room for more.  When you "empty" yourself before something greater than yourself, your capacity to receive increases beyond your previously perceived limits.   

For years, my cup was painfully empty and I relied on my eating disorder to give me an illusion of fullness.  So effective was anorexia at convincing me that my cup was full, that I shut out people and experiences that really could have enriched my life.  I had no room for relationships with people--my relationship with food was all I needed.  Going into intensive treatment required me to acknowledge the many ways in which my eating disorder had brought me to my knees.  When I was ready to recognize how empty my cup actually was, I made room for the possibility of filling it with things that would add tremendous value to my life.  By admitting how much help I needed, I opened the door for deep connection and profound learning. In recovery, I have found that people are more capable of satisfying my relational needs than I previously thought they would be.  What's more, I've found that I'm much more able to receive--and reciprocate--the love that others have to offer.   

When I think of hod, another story that keeps coming to my mind is one of my favorite Hasidic oral teachings:

A person should always have two pockets, with a note in each pocket.  On one note should be written, "For my sake was the world created."  On the other should be written, "I am but dust and ashes."

To me, this means that we each need a healthy dose of humility in our lives.  It is okay to recognize areas in which we want to improve and things we need to work on.  This is what keeps us growing and evolving.  Sometimes, it is important to acknowledge that we are really small in the grand scheme of things, and that we are part of a system that is much larger than ourselves.  But, we also need to remember that although we are small, we are significant.  Everything we are, we are because this is how Hashem wants us to be--all of our strengths, He gave us so that we could use them for the greater good. Humility is what allows us to say, "Wow--I am just one small person in this awesome universe.  But even though I am tiny, I have powers that Hashem has given me so that I might contribute to this world in a positive way."

In this week dedicated to hod, I encourage us all to do the following two things:

1) Think about the ways in which your cup is not full.  How can you open yourself to people and experiences that might enrich your life and your journey?

2) Acknowledge that you are just one life in a universe filled with Hashem's creations.  Take a moment to appreciate what it means to be one small part of a much larger system.  Then, consider your personal strengths and recognize that each one was a gift from Hashem, just for you.  How might you use your power to get the most out of this world?  How can you use it to give the most back?