Memoirs of a failed fixer...
Hi, my name is Ayse (Hi, Ayse)... and I'm a fixer.
I've been reading psychology-type books and I learned that we basically end up at the same level of psychological health that our environmental family unit had (not really talking about genetics here). So to paint a picture of how I developed into the person I'm trying to grow out of, we have to look back to childhood.
My childhood home was volatile, sort of like a dangerous chemistry experiment that is perfectly safe as long as no one sneezes. My dad had a temper, and it might be pertinent to point out that this was technically my step-dad. My biological father had issues also, but he and my mother divorced shortly after I was born. He didn't miss me much. So my dad came after and loved me and my mom and swept us away to military brat life... and he had a horrible temper. Most days things were fun and happy, but we never knew what exactly might set him off, so we were always on alert. He could come after any one of us (I have a sister four years younger), and my mom was never afraid to step in our place, but the periods of stress were so extreme that anxiety became sort of a stasis. In an attempt to keep the stress level low I became the peacekeeper. I tried to maintain a perfection about me that could keep the waters calm. I never talked back, I got good grades (when I didn't I punished myself more than my parents did), I never complained, I forgave, I forgave, I forgave.
Ok, so fast-forward. I'm out of the house and getting into my own relationships. My experiences as a child have taught me that it's better not to rock the boat and that I can reduce stress by just being "perfect". There is no problem I can't handle (I grew up with a sociopath). I can forgive any transgression as long as it isn't physical abuse. As long as I love hard enough, everything will work out. The problem is that I was suppressing myself in my romantic relationships. I would try to be whatever I thought would cause the least amount of ripples.
Just recently I have learned that there is such a thing as loving too hard. Especially if that love causes you to ignore red flags that your good sense brings to your attention. My mom always told me to look out for the "red flags", but I think I oversimplified what she meant in my mind. For me, it was always about watching out for signs that would indicate a bad temper, something that I knew I could never abide. Now I realize that there have been other signs of trouble that I had been all too happy to ignore because heeding the warning would have meant that I couldn't be "perfect". And, I don't really mean "perfect" in the literal sense. I mean just able to make someone happy with me, I suppose.
Knowing, what I know now, would I have done anything differently? Maybe. I do think lessons have to be learned, and this lesson came from a problem so deep-rooted that maybe the only way it could have been dealt with was with no anesthesia, soul-crushing painful surgery. I am just starting to get over the fact that I cannot fix everything, and maybe I shouldn't always want to. That doesn't make me a failure.
I've been reading psychology-type books and I learned that we basically end up at the same level of psychological health that our environmental family unit had (not really talking about genetics here). So to paint a picture of how I developed into the person I'm trying to grow out of, we have to look back to childhood.
My childhood home was volatile, sort of like a dangerous chemistry experiment that is perfectly safe as long as no one sneezes. My dad had a temper, and it might be pertinent to point out that this was technically my step-dad. My biological father had issues also, but he and my mother divorced shortly after I was born. He didn't miss me much. So my dad came after and loved me and my mom and swept us away to military brat life... and he had a horrible temper. Most days things were fun and happy, but we never knew what exactly might set him off, so we were always on alert. He could come after any one of us (I have a sister four years younger), and my mom was never afraid to step in our place, but the periods of stress were so extreme that anxiety became sort of a stasis. In an attempt to keep the stress level low I became the peacekeeper. I tried to maintain a perfection about me that could keep the waters calm. I never talked back, I got good grades (when I didn't I punished myself more than my parents did), I never complained, I forgave, I forgave, I forgave.
Ok, so fast-forward. I'm out of the house and getting into my own relationships. My experiences as a child have taught me that it's better not to rock the boat and that I can reduce stress by just being "perfect". There is no problem I can't handle (I grew up with a sociopath). I can forgive any transgression as long as it isn't physical abuse. As long as I love hard enough, everything will work out. The problem is that I was suppressing myself in my romantic relationships. I would try to be whatever I thought would cause the least amount of ripples.
Just recently I have learned that there is such a thing as loving too hard. Especially if that love causes you to ignore red flags that your good sense brings to your attention. My mom always told me to look out for the "red flags", but I think I oversimplified what she meant in my mind. For me, it was always about watching out for signs that would indicate a bad temper, something that I knew I could never abide. Now I realize that there have been other signs of trouble that I had been all too happy to ignore because heeding the warning would have meant that I couldn't be "perfect". And, I don't really mean "perfect" in the literal sense. I mean just able to make someone happy with me, I suppose.
Knowing, what I know now, would I have done anything differently? Maybe. I do think lessons have to be learned, and this lesson came from a problem so deep-rooted that maybe the only way it could have been dealt with was with no anesthesia, soul-crushing painful surgery. I am just starting to get over the fact that I cannot fix everything, and maybe I shouldn't always want to. That doesn't make me a failure.
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