One Leg of the Trail

My Avoidant Adventure began in earnest about six years ago as I walked with my sister along a sandy road in Duck, NC, seriously contemplating divorce from the man who was states away celebrating Thanksgiving with some of his family while our daughter and I celebrated at a beach house with my family. This journey has been at times tumultuous, full of twists and turns, tears and frustrations, and the occasional beautiful vistas of promise. I know the journey of understanding and living with avoidance will continue, yet I sense a shift in the intensity. New topics are zooming into clearer focus now that I better understand my avoidance (and my husband's sensitivity to it). Will I continue to trip over the unseen rocks in my path? Yep. Will I myself become one of those trip hazards for my husband on occasion? Affirmative. Will we ever find a blissful, rock-free path to walk together on this earthly journey? I doubt it. But this journey is less encumbered by my heavy suitcase of avoidance; that suitcase has transformed into a backpack full of affirmations and new awareness, a few lingering hurts, and a map of memories.

The tale of the adventure itself still needs to be told, but I must pause here to reflect on what I see in the hopeful vista before me near the end of this leg of the journey. I see an important key that I had to use over and over again to unlock the secrets of my heart. Of course, it is an emotion, which is what we Avoidants spend most of our energy avoiding. Yes, we can also avoid the truth, even when it is staring us in the face. Like, for example, how I avoided admitting to myself that I was having sex as a college sophomore until I got caught. Or how that person you know avoids admitting that his or her actions are causing irreparable harm to family members, especially the children. Or how our politicians and other "leaders" avoid seeing the negative effects of their policies and attitudes toward others. We are blinded by trauma, by fear, by shame, by insecurities, by so many things that–unfortunately–we are simply unable to see. These truths that we cannot see or don't want to admit are different than those emotions that we fight hard not to feel. Without our realizing it, that's where our energy goes: to suppressing, to covering, to hiding, to not feeling negative emotions. Such practices turn us into master Avoiders. Yet I stand here at this junction of my own journey with a key in my hand; that key is sadness.

The creators of the Pixar movie Inside Out nailed it. Sadness was the key to being seen, feeling heard. We want to push her aside, keep her trapped within her little chalk circle, disallow her the opportunity to distort memories with her blue touch. But when we've spent our lives hiding who we are, running away from difficult emotions, and trying to be something else because of shame or trauma or insecurities or whatever, we get bitter and we get tired. And eventually, something breaks: our marriages, our health, our relationships with God and others, our concern for anyone, including ourselves. In the movie, Riley has broken her mother's trust by stealing from her and broken her parents' hearts by leaving them to hop on a bus. When she is reminded of a former sadness and how her parents supported her through it, she runs back to the safety of home where healing begins to take place. Allowing ourselves to feel–and dare I say "embrace"–the emotion of sadness breaks the dam of self-protection. It forces us to fall into the scary realm of vulnerability. And THAT is what opens the door for connection and healing.

It is near impossible for an Avoidant to be vulnerable. And yet, as Brené Brown has so eloquently shown us, vulnerability is what creates the connections that we desire. I'm reminded of our dorkie (Dachshund/Yorkie mix) Domino when she makes herself vulnerable by turning onto her back and exposing her tummy. One of her most intense pleasures comes from putting herself in this position, trusting that we won't press her belly to her backbone and squash her like a bug. No, we will rub her tummy and speak soothingly to her. This kind of vulnerability often elicits such reactions in non-psychotic people. And we Avoidants, created–like all humans–for connection, have to learn how to be vulnerable, willing to bare our tummies and our souls to those who love us.

My heart breaks when I see others stuck in Avoidance, not aware of the journey they could be taking. I have a friend I love dearly who is stuck. I'll call her Kay (as I scan my acquaintances, I don't think I have a friend named Kay; if that is your name and you want to become one of my new friends, you may be out of luck). This friend is precious to me, yet she refuses to see her Avoidant tendencies. Well, maybe she CANNOT see them, for that was me until I hit the point of begging God for release from my unhappiness, and He took me to the point of considering divorce because of the hopelessness enveloping me. Part of me wants to help Kay feel the sadness of her own history and the sadness of her husband who is baffled by her animosity toward him and the sadness of her family members who are pushed away because of her prickliness; I know that this emotional key has been helpful for my many locks. But maybe she is incapable of holding any key in her hand until she runs smack dab into the lock surrounding her heart. After all, a key is not valuable until we see the need for one as a means of unlocking something important to us. So, for my friend Kay and for the other Avoidants who cross my path, my prayer is that God will bring her (them) to the point of desiring change. To the admission that a big-rig-sized lock surrounds her heart and needs to be opened. To the breaking point. For that is what has to happen; a crack needs to form. Such a crack in the veneer is the trailhead of any Avoidant Adventure. Although difficult, I highly recommend this path to anyone desiring to break free from the chains of avoidance.