“Anywhere, But Here”

“Anywhere, but Here”

dis·so·ci·a·tion

/dəˌsōSHēˈāSH(ə)n,dəˌsōsēˈāSH(ə)n/

noun

the disconnection or separation of something from something else or the state of being disconnected.

“Anywhere, but Here” is not just a painting about dissociation, but it is a painting about hiding and removing yourself from the world’s eye. I painted this during a time where I felt trapped in my daily routine and desired nothing more than a chance to escape from my 9-5 and the life I led. This painting helped me work through feelings of burn out, being under-appreciated and undervalued. Using my Meditative Expressive Art process allowed me the chance to work through these difficult emotions and by the time I finished this painting, I developed a plan of action for following my dreams and no longer playing a passive role in my life.

Start Date:

July 17, 2022

End Date:

October 11, 2022

This is what I came to terms with and worked through during my Meditative Expressive Art sessions:

I’m almost certain, the core of my productivity AND relationship issues is my unwielding desire for support. This desire for support both hinders me from creating the life I want as well as breeds the extreme desire for enmeshment in my intimate relationships. By nature, I am self-sacrificing. I have always been quick to do for others what I would drag out to do for myself. Today is the day that I 100% acknowledge that, while I love myself, I want someone else to love me more. I have a heavy acts of service and quality time love language and value them more than anything else. However, I’ve frequently attracted partners (and even sometimes friends) who value things that directly oppose my own. I’ve spent some time thinking about where this innate desire comes from. Why is it so hard to prioritize me, over the needs of my loved ones? We all know, everything that we are now has been molded from something or someone and more often than not, these forms we live within are crafted from the molds of our childhood. And if you didn’t know, well now you know.

With that information, I have only one place to look to. One feeling that has always been consistent in me is the feeling of being misunderstood and unheard. I’ve always felt like my voice never quite reaches the ears of others and if it does, those sound waves quickly spill out of the other side of their heads.

When I was a child, I spent a lot of time choosing to figure things out on my own. I kept questions to a minimum and just explored. That was innate, I’m sure. Although I have a brother, I still spent much of my time writing stories on my Windows 96 desktop, burning mix CDs (on that same desktop), drawing and hiding out in a little closet in my shared bedroom to spend time alone reading or watching movies. I did well in school because of this trait and was placed in advanced classes.

As I grew older, when I accomplished something I’d keep the victories to myself. My mother was never the type to congratulate me without an added negative or cautionary commentary (still isn’t honestly), but I am and have always been grateful. My mother has always been a rock and made sure to provide food, shelter and advice when needed. Emotionally, however, sometimes she could be volatile and I quickly learned to hide parts of me that would be judged or commented on. While we did do family activities, my home never felt particularly “warm” to me. I don’t remember much hugging or many endearing words. My mother was kind and loving, but in a way that was more practical and knowledge-based.

Some kids may have decided to over perform in order to receive the love and recognition they craved, but I did the exact opposite. Instead of focusing more on my studies, I began to ignore and fail my classes that I was more than able to excel in.

My mother always valued academia and has pushed books and learning on my brother and I since before we could read. I did my best in school and did particularly well, until we moved from my home city and settled down in a small town after my mother got re-married. I don’t believe I began to stop caring in school because of the move or marriage, but perhaps it was a subconscious attempt to get my mother to acknowledge me in a more compassionate way. In retrospect, I wish I hadn’t ignored my studies because I ended up struggling to get into college and I didn’t get the compassion I sought after anyways.

I went to a college my mother suggested mostly because I didn’t have enough aid to cover the costs of the art school I wanted to go to. I didn’t really want to go to the college I did, but I went anyways because I felt that I had to do what she wanted. Not realizing that, while my mother’s opinion is important, it is never more important than choosing my own path.

The point of the brief field trip to my childhood was to say, that I have never felt supported emotionally. I’ve always hidden my feelings, my likes and dislikes and just made myself content with taking the backseat to what my parents wanted. How is this showing up in my life now as a 25 year old woman? In most of my romantic relationships I have sought out intensity and fairytale, hollywood-esque love only to be disappointed (no one is perfect and I didn’t realize I was asking for a lot). The men I attract and ultimately, entertain are direct reflections of my wound. They are practical, headstrong and independent like my mother, but hold back when it comes to emotional intimacy and verbal acknowledgement. I’ve always boasted about words of affirmations meaning nothing to me, but in my more recent years, I’ve realized that words of affirmation are something I’ve craved deeply for most of my life. It was always easier to say words meant nothing when I didn’t receive them regardless.

More than anything, candidly and off the record, I’ve just wanted someone to be proud of me. To value what I have to say and acknowledge me. I’ve noticed that two of my major defense mechanisms have been to shy away from recognition and present myself as overtly independent. My coping methods have only attracted more of what I loathe and much less of what I crave.

Perhaps, there is a fear of speaking up and being ignored or criticized. There’s a feeling of shame that is weaved into my desire to be acknowledged, supported and loved. I’ve had glimpses of encounters with loved ones where I have felt truly appreciated and recognized, but they are few and far in between. Mostly because I think I’ve subconsciously hidden myself among people who aren’t going to acknowledge me the way I’ve always wanted some one to. There’s something within me still fearful of being heard only to be ostricized and still ashamed of wanting mom’s recognition.

I didn’t grow up rich, but I never knew the wiser. Even in a happy healthy marriage of 14 years, my mother still remains the most hardworking and independent person I know. That was how she raised me to be, which, I’m sure is why I never valued being independent and have rejected it in my adult years. I always have been. I know nothing else.

Interestingly enough, there is more than one way to be independent. I’ve always outwardly prided myself on being independent, but what I’ve come to learn in my adult years is that I’ve only ever been emotionally independent. I’ve always dealt with my feelings by myself and took on the task of helping others with their’s instead. This has ultimately resulting in me seeking out relationships where I can be emotionally vulnerable and supported while also desiring to be taken care of practically like my mother did simultaneously. Had I learned to be financially independent, my life would look a lot differently now. I’m still learning.

I’ve frequently found that I avoid taking care of myself and defer to other’s needs to fill the space. I have a deep desire to be taken care of and in exchange, for them I’d do the same. It’s always felt easier to take care of someone else. The tendency to want to enmesh my life with another has been nothing but tumultous and rightfully so. In the past, I’ve found myself prioritizing things my partner wants and needs over my own, absorbing my partner’s feelings and emotions in an attempt to get close, but ultimately suppressing my own, and just generally sacrificing too much of myself for the sake of the relationship. This desire not only shows up in my romantic relationships, but in my platonic ones as well.

Last year, I finally began to practice setting boundaries without fear of rejection or dismissal. I had many tough conversations and even lost a friend, but I have felt so much better for taking the steps to detach myself to focus on what I want to accomplish. Though I still desire a symbiotic relationship where I have the chance to take care of someone else and get taken care of in return, I am learning how to be more independent and how to put systems in place that facilitate and encourage my independence, so that being so doesn’t pain me and cause me to ignore my wellbeing altogether.

But truthfully, I just wanna skip to the part where I’m a doting house wife with a thriving business that I run from home. And that, my friends, is proof I still have some healing to do.

Grateful for your acknowledgment of my post by reading it. Thankful for your “listening ear”.

Always mine,

Markia J.

4.18.23