Caitlyn is Free

I think I am currently going through a Bachelorette Hangover…never, in all of the seasons that I have watched, have the GUYS been so dramatic. It’s downright crazy. As I watched the episode I picked out three potential themes of what I would write on today—Kaitlyn having a backbone and standing up for herself…the narcissistic expectations of certain men (…ya know the ones who use the phrase “villains gotta vill”…yes, I am looking at you, Clint and JJ), or even Ben Z.’s heart tugging story of his mother’s death and his incessant need to be strong for everyone—even going 11 years without shedding a tear. Lots of great fodder for a blog that can tie reality TV to real life!

Photo Credit: trendingcurrentevents.com

But I am not going to write about any of that today. Instead I want to write about another reality TV star who has not only been receiving a lot of public attention lately but who’s story has made a heartfelt impact on me in a way that I never expected. I’m talking about Caitlyn Jenner, formerly known as the World’s Greatest Athlete and American Hero, Bruce Jenner. I know that this has lead to many controversies on social media, news forums, coffee shop talks and dinner discussions so I want to be clear when I say that controversy is not what I am interested in and to that extent I would hope that you can see past personal preferences and beliefs, whatever they might be and see the heart of what I am getting at here. 

When the Diane Sawyer 20/20 interview aired last month there were several points that brought tears to my eyes and made my heart burst with joy. Throughout the interview Bruce (as he asked to be referred to throughout the interview) shared stories of confusion, pain, heartache and fear; he shared with the world the different coping mechanisms he used, the ways he would try to fix himself and how he would, in many ways, just kinda numb out. He spoke, with heartfelt sincerity, how most of his life he felt trapped and living a lie; unable to be who he wanted to be, who he knew he was—his true, authentic self. 

To be clear, I have never faced the struggle of feeling like I was born with the wrong body (well, that’s a lie…often times I wish I could have the type of body that thinks about losing weight and then the weight just falls off…a girl can dream). I have no idea what it’s like to feel trapped inside my own body, knowing that I was destined to be a different gender. But I do know what it’s like to feel trapped. I know what it’s like to feel as though you have to hide parts of yourself to gain the favor of others, to abide by pre-set expectations, to not ruffle feathers and to not make others feel uncomfortable. I know those feelings well. I know what it’s like to have questions that go unasked because of the high risk that goes along with it. I know what it’s like to fake passion when in reality I am going through the motions. I know what it’s like to feel that someone else’s expectations of you stifle the person you know you can be, the person you want to be—the person that you should be. I know what it's like to feel like I am living a lie—to say I believe, think, act and feel one way when in reality I believe, think, act and feel completely different. 

Photo Credit: genius.com 

Many years of my life were spent battling internally, trying to convince myself that the way I was being taught to live was actually the “right way”, when in reality I knew it was not. Too many relationships were governed by the fear that if I did not do something their way that I would be rejected, betrayed and discarded. The morals, beliefs, values and theology that dictated my life made me feel like I was wearing a dress that I had grown out of years ago. I spent decades of my life feeling trapped in someone else’s world—a world that never fit for me. 

I would say there is some common human experience that binds us together when it comes to feeling trapped—I don’t think it’s an over generalization to say that we have all felt trapped at one time or another. Perhaps it’s feeling trapped by family expectations or the desire to be the exact opposite of your family (therefore never being able to just be you). Perhaps it’s a marriage or a relationship or a friendship that day after day sucks the life out of you but you feel trapped and helpless to do anything else. Maybe it’s a church tradition or a theology that you must conform to at the risk of being excommunicated. You might feel trapped in a job or career that drains you every day but you feel you have no options to change. Perhaps you feel trapped by secrets of the past, experiences that you have been a part of or choices you have made. And maybe that entrapment feeling comes from feeling like who you are doesn’t match the anatomical set up that you were born with. Though there are varying degrees of impact, those feelings of helplessness, anxiety, hopelessness, being trapped and wishing that things could be different weaves us together and gives us an empathetic common ground. 

Yesterday the first picture of Caitlyn Jenner was released to the world—she is on the cover of the next issue of Vanity Fair and she is stunning. Reading the various articles that Vanity Fair published about this photo shoot was fascinating but one struck me as particularly poignant with it’s headline: “Caitlyn is free”. I am not ashamed to admit that my breath was taken away and I shed a couple of tears as I saw her picture and read that headline. Freedom. Something so many of us take for granted and yet something that we often don’t give ourselves permission to feel. Sometimes we don’t even realized how trapped we were until we actually experience freedom. Freedom to be you. Freedom to be your authentic self. Freedom to live out of the truest form of you regardless of the chatter behind your back. The process of gaining freedom does not always come easy; many times the path towards freedom breeds pain as we shed layers and ideals of ourselves, commit to being honest always and sometimes disappoint people, even losing relationships. But, I can say from personal experience and the privilege of bearing witness to many other people's journeys that freedom is always worth the price. The reward of being yourself truly, fully and authentically is beautiful. 

Photo Credit: vanityfair.com

My heart explodes with joy for Caitlyn Jenner. To have the opportunity and the courage to live your life being authentically you is brave, admirable and should be celebrated. May we all use Caitlyn’s example and pursuit of freedom in our own lives, in our own unique ways and pursue freedom with strength, vigor and courage. Freedom. What a gift. 












© Lainey Dreson. 2015. All Rights Reserved. 

Your Story is Not You

This week’s episode of the Bachelor has me perplexed. Since the episode ended last night, I have tossed around various ideas of what to write about today…there were certainly a few redeeming moments of the show—when Whitney discussed the importance of being kind to someone even when we didn’t like their actions; when Becca offered empathy and compassion to the Bachelor in the midst of a hard situation. Or when Carly spent time conversing with Chris and asking questions—doing an excellent job of sharing just enough of her heart, experiences and genuine fears in an effort to be known, yet not giving everything away (instead of spending her one-on-one time making out with him.) These were important moments of the night and definitely should not be overlooked. But unfortunately these moments did not stand much of a chance in being some of the pivotal themes of the night due to a few of the other girls’ handling of themselves and their emotions.

For those of you who don’t watch the show, we are introduced to Kelsey at the beginning of the season in a video vignette as she shares with us that she is a widow; her husband passed away abruptly, a mere 18 months ago, due to heart failure. America’s heart went out to this young woman as they embraced her story and her chance to find love again. Kelsey has stayed somewhat in the shadows the entire season, likely due to editing, but has started to make a bit of a name for herself in the past couple episodes which led up to her grand entrance on the episode last night. 

With the other widow being booted off the show in the previous episode, Kelsey now had the most tragic story in the house and she knew it. She began sharing it with the other girls in the house during this episode—catching the girls off guard as to the timing of sharing her story. We hear her say “I can’t go home without him knowing my story”, so without the other girls’ knowledge, Kelsey sneaks to Chris’ room to tell him of the death of her late husband. Awkward is probably a mild word to describe the exchange. As Kelsey shares her story, in depth, the editing cuts back and forth between her conversation and her individual interviews as she talks about how fabulously tragic and amazing her story is. She proclaims that there is undeniable sexual tension between she and Chris and we cut to Kelsey finishing her story and awkwardly planting a passionate kiss on Chris. And, since Chris’ coping skill in all situations awkward (or not awkward) is kissing, he obliges—though his body language indicates he would rather not be there with her. 

Cut to the end of the episode and Chris lets the other women know that Kelsey has shared her story with him—this after she condescendingly shares with the girls how confident she is that she will get a rose tonight. After realizing what is happening the girls begin their chatter and we end the episode with Kelsey on the floor having a ‘panic attack’ as we hear Ashley I.—the self-proclaimed virgin who has spent at least half of her on-air time trying to convince people that it’s not a big deal and and the other half creating drama due to her insecurities over this very same choice—break out in frustration and tears stating, “great, now someone else’s story is more tragic than my own.” 

Drama at it’s finest!

"I'm a virgin, it's not a big deal"--Ashley I.

As I contemplated what to write today, over and over I kept coming back to the overarching theme of the episode being that there were girls who were promoting and defining themselves as women and the totality of who they were based on one choice or one experience. They were viewing their existence among the other women as a game in which they were seeking to come out on top. If I have the most tragic story, I win. If there is another virgin in the house, I lose. And in getting caught up in these mere experiences or choices being what defined them as a woman, so many of these women (who I am sure are truly wonderful) began their demise—when their experience was invalidated so was their identity. 

Now, I am the first one to say that coming through a tragic situation or making a choice that is unpopular in the eyes of others takes an amount of courage. And I would never want to suggest that someone’s experience or decisions weren’t absolutely pivotal in their lives and had a lasting impact on them; we all know that there are certain moments in life that change who we are. But to suggest that one experience or one decision is what makes us who we are entirely, shortchanges our identity and leads to a fragile view of ourselves. Our experiences and choices challenge us, affirm us, devastate us and bring amazing joy into our lives. Sure, sometimes our experiences and choices even seem to beat the hell out of us—bringing us to a place of feeling wrecked for a while. But our choices and situations are just that—choices and situations. They aren’t us. They don’t define the totality of who we are or the essence of our character. Our choices and experiences are a small part of who we are; they are not all of who we are. 

One of my favorite authors, Brene Brown, made a statement that owning of our story is one of the bravest things that we can do—and I agree wholeheartedly. The ownership of our story however, is the sharing of different parts of us—the different experiences, relationships and emotions that have helped us grow, learn and go through the refining process. Loving ourselves through that process makes space for celebrating that our stories are not bigger than us, more attractive than us, more tragic than us or even what defines us.  They are, simply, stories.

My hope for us all is that we would desire for others to be attracted not to our stories but rather the person we became--the person we are--as a result of all of these different cards that life has dealt us. When someone is attracted to us for our character, rather than the character we played in a story, they are worth keeping around! 

My Name is Lainey and I’m a Relationship Sabotager

Several months ago I wrote a series of blogs about different masks that we wear, that I wear, when it comes to relationships. One of the masks that I focused on was “The Sabotager”. As I re-read what I wrote about that mask before I started writing this blog, I was almost in disbelief that I had written these words less than a year ago. It’s not that I didn’t believe them when I wrote them, it just feels like now, months and many experiences later, I understand these words at a level that is far deeper than I could have imagined back then.

So, to put it bluntly, I recently figured out that I sabotage relationships. And in figuring out that I do this, I almost lost out on another relationship that had a lot of great qualities. After dating a really great guy for only a couple weeks I noticed my anxiety level creeping upwards and recognized that no matter how much I tried to be nonchalant, I continued to let my mind get the best of me. On one particular night we had a minor miscommunication and while I do maintain that the consideration of communication that I was asking for was still appropriate, after a two hour conversation regarding this conflict that should never happen at that point in a relationship, something within me clicked. As the days had been passing by, I was actually preparing for him to break my heart. Though he never gave any indication that he was, in fact he continually affirmed how much he enjoyed spending time with me and liked who I was, I was choosing instead to listen to past experiences and my negative internal loop instead of actually looking at reality.

Making it through that conversation and still being committed to getting to know each other left me both with a sense of relief and peace, but also some major reflection that I needed to do in regards to what my anxiety was all about, why my reaction was so inflated and really what the hell had just happened. As I sat in my chair with my coffee, a book and my journal in hand the next morning I slowly but surely came to the profound realization that as much as I desire a deep and intimate relationship, life has handed me enough experiences that often times make me less than hopeful of that happening. And as much as I hate the ending of any relationship and the depth of loneliness that it seems to leave me, I have truly become an expert at dealing with it. And if I am being honest, there is a sense of seduction in being the perpetual victim—passed over again and again by various men. 

The fact of the matter is, being in a relationship is risky. It involves vulnerability and courage and always leaves a possibility that you could get hurt. And if you have been in relationships that have ended less than amicably, it would seem that your natural reaction would be to create some sort of defense mechanism that is designed to protect you from the pain of relationships ending. 

Perhaps its pride or maybe just my own blind spot, but it was hard for me to recognize these sabotaging patterns for quite a long time.  I never had any extreme behaviors, public meltdowns, rants or overly dramatic instances that would have been, obviously, sabotaging. For me I think it was more that I went in to a relationship expecting it to end and expecting to get hurt, so I made sure that it happened in too many cases. While I never made things up or took extreme measures to sabotage a relationship, I do know that my expectations that I projected onto my potential-future-boyfriends surely did not make staying with me easy. And while there have been a few of those guys along the way where the ending of the relationship truly was all on them and NOT due to my sabotaging behaviors, I can look back now and see that there were many other relationship endings that had at least in some part to do with my own efforts to make my self-fulfilling prophecies come true. 

In my last blog I talk about the process of figuring out the way to date that most greatly reflects my desires and values. I have come to realize that in finding this balance involves looking at the pace at which a relationship develops and in focusing on this I have realized this is the area that I am prone to sabotage a relationship. Prior to the last few months I had gotten used to relationships starting (and ending) quickly. Within days we were spending every day together, communicating all day and even having conversations discussing our futures together. But 6-8 weeks in, things fizzled out and I was left again by myself on a Friday night. 

With this as a pattern beginning to become ingrained in my mind, you can imagine that a few weeks into a relationship triggers my body and mind into an automatic panic response. I’ve been through it so many times it seems that my body naturally begins to believe the end is near and sometimes even forces the end of the relationship through various means. 

So, you can imagine my surprise and uncertainty when, a few weeks into our relationship we had only gone on a handful of dates, texted sporadically and talked on the phone when our schedules allowed. Though I was told this was normal dating, it was so far from my traditional experiences that it became difficult to know how to handle it in a mature way. So I began doing the only thing I knew how to do: sabotage the relationship. I took something small and allowed it to be made into a much bigger deal than I needed to make it and prepared myself for him to end it with me that night. But he didn’t. And I admit, I had no clue how to handle it. Yet, something was very right. Call it super natural patience, grace or whatever, he calmly identified the ways that he made it clear, several times each day, that he was interested in me and wanting to pursue a relationship with me. And after explaining it, he stuck around. And he was there the next day. And the day after that. 

For me that was, what a therapist would call, an emotionally corrective experience. Throughout my entire life I have been told that I am too much to handle and that I need to find someone who will ‘put up with me’. I suppose many times I have created situations in which I have become too much to handle and basically fulfilled that prophecy in my life. For many years I prayed for a man that COULD handle the intensity of me, one that wouldn’t walk away the first sign of trouble. It took me a while to believe for myself that I wasn’t too much to handle and that the people who told me that repeatedly were wrong, but to have someone stand in front of you and reflect back the opposite of that cognitive distortion, stick around and remind me over and over what he likes about me, provides a healing experience that acts as a loudspeaker over those negative messages. 

In the days following that instance I have caught myself daily, naturally turning towards sabotaging actions when my anxiety arises. I do wish they would go away and that my gut reaction would be one of peace and presence, but I do think that the next best thing is being able to observe myself and choose how to act in a different way. So now, though the pattern is new, I am proud to say that I have started developing a new pattern: not sabotaging a relationship. And in that I have come, face to face, on a brand new level with both the risk and reward that is involved in a relationship. Not sabotaging means I don’t get to control the situation in an effort to protect myself.  Not sabotaging means that I get to be present in the relationship. Not sabotaging allows love to enter in. 

[Author’s Note: This blog was written a little over a month  prior to being posted so lest you get your hopes up that perhaps I am dating someone, no worries, this one also disappeared a couple weeks later! However, I am grateful for the lessons that I learned, they were much needed. Additionally, it’s great to know that there truly was nothing that I could have done differently, his disappearance was on his own accordance; stay tuned for the next blog for my theories on this phenomenon!]

Side Effects of Awareness

Dating is just exhausting. To put yourself out there time and time again, only to be rejected, just sucks. And it’s unfair too. Too many times, for whatever reason, it seems like the man gets to up and decide that it’s over and the woman has no say (I’m speaking from my own experience). His “stuff” comes up by my simple presence and overwhelms him to the point of being uncomfortable—needing to get away. 

Seems like there is a blessing and a curse to being healthy. On the one hand, being healthy is the best for me (and others in my life seem to benefit from my health too). It allows me to be the best version of me in order to have a shot at a healthy relationship. It allows me to take myself out of my own shoes in a conflictual situation and see from “his” perspective. I think working on yourself and understanding who you are is hugely attractive too. I think self-awareness is magnetic and bright.

So bright, in fact, that people who aren’t used to it [self-awareness—which comes through working on oneself] can only be around it for so long before they are faced with a choice: to look at themselves and be open to the process or to turn away (out of awkwardness and un-comfortability) and walk the other direction. Their life of un-awareness is too familiar, too un-demanding, too easy. To stand in the presence and light of someone who is actively seeking whole health is almost intimidating. Like their sheer presence shines a light on the untouched and unhealthy parts of another. 

I get it…doing the work is NOT easy. For over a year now my life has been peeled back, layer by layer. There has been a lot of ugliness and yuck that has surfaced. Years of distortions, repressed emotion, abusive relationships, my own sort-comings…all of these came to light. I guess I was just at a point in my life where the thought of living with this internal heaviness that was constantly being held at bay sounded scarier than one day of the unknown: living in a world where I deal with the yuck. 

I suppose for many of those years I was looking for a white horse…a relationship, a new job, a new location, a new experience or maybe even a new pair of pants to ride in and save me…to make things better; by this white horse’s presence all that I held at bay would become obsolete. It seemed though that the more I looked for something or someone to be the white horse, the bigger the pile of shit grew that I was trying to hold at bay. Debilitating seems like the accurate way to describe my life. Waiting for the white horse seemed agonizing. 

Typically I consider myself to be a smart person who catches on quickly. But it seems when it comes to figuring things out about myself, my ability to see clearly is similar to walking through a dark cave while wearing sunglasses…nearly impossible. Somewhere along the way though, grace was offered to me and I came face to face with a new reality. I didn’t have to wait for a white horse to ride in and save me from all that I held at bay. I WAS THE WHITE HORSE…the only person who could save me was me.

I am the white horse. 

When I realized that, there was an element of liberation…it gives me permission to move forward, and I like that. And there is something quite gratifying when, as each layer is being peeled back, you can celebrate your own survival. At the same time the commitment to save yourself is a commitment to sit in the mire and muck as long as it takes, rather than looking for someone or something else to save you, or at the very least, distract you. That part sucks.

At some point though, I began to notice that when I stopped fighting the process, when I stopped resisting, when I allowed myself to be brutally honest and open with myself, others and God (all things I thought would only ADD to the weight of what I was carrying), a beautiful thing happened. Life became easier. When before I was fighting frantically to keep my head above water in a stormy sea, I suddenly was swimming…and the storm wasn’t as daunting and vicious.

I am on the other side of  a season of intense storms and layer peeling. Despite the moments of agony, I can’t say that I’m sad I went through it. I came out the other side a happier, healthier and whole person. I would NEVER trade that in.

Without desiring to sound cocky, this season of refinement (that by no means is over), has created in me a magnetic force…a moth to a flame. My journey has afforded me awareness, compassion, wholeness, mindfulness, strength and health that is attractive to others. I get it…I am (and have been/currently am) attracted to those people—mesmerized by some unexplainable force. But just like at some point their energy became intimidating (for I knew that they had something I didn’t, and didn’t know if I was strong enough to go after), mine can become intimidating too (though THEY nor I never meant it to be that).

For me, I have seen this intimidating most clearly in the arena of dating.

It’s a rare occurrence to sit in front of a person and not be enamored with how they can articulate themselves and show up with a level of authenticity and vulnerability.  It’s instantly attractive (albeit, of course there are those occasions when personalities simply don’t click). For the Self-Aware person this is just another day in which they show up as themselves. For the person who hasn’t put the time and effort in (we’ll call him the “Unaware”) - this day is not just another day, but rather a day set apart as they have come into contact with someone unlike they have ever met (and in their ignorance/innocence, they truly mean it!)

And so the Unaware becomes excited. Finally his search for love has led somewhere—the sun is bright, the flowers are unusually beautiful smelling and all is right with the world. But only for a minute. We all know that the more time you spend with someone the more of your self comes out. This is true regardless if you are Aware or Unaware. The problem arises when Aware continues to show up as her authentic self—being real about the past, present and future (which takes mega courage and vulnerability), never wavering from her initial steadiness of character. The Unaware shows more of himself too, but in his ‘showing of self’ to the Aware person, he suddenly realizes the light she shines with her mere presence exposes some unfavorable parts in him. It seems only a matter of time until her Aware/light/presence, unknowingly “forces” the Unaware to deal or to run. 

Too often the Unaware chooses to run. 

It hasn’t been until recently that I have been able to actually call out this process…to recognize it for what it is. As someone who seeks after Self-Awareness, I am also aware of when I slip on the Victim Mask, but there comes a point when I can accept responsibility for my part in it and then give “him” the responsibility that is his.

My responsibility is not to make him aware. My responsibility is to live every day committed to being the best version of myself. If that version (of an Aware-me) causes dissonance in his life, my responsibility remains to me and truly living out of the fullness of who I am rather than watering it down in order to make it more comfortable for him. 

Effort like this does not come without potential pain and heartbreak. It takes great courage and bravery. No matter what the outcome though, when I am living out of my highest value of self, there is never room for regret. 

Shine on.