The world is so full of plots to thwart the good intentioned who are trying to follow the rules. In a given day, the shear number of plots I encounter to discourage me in this goal is mind blowing. For most of my life, I had a set of rules to follow. As I moved to adulthood, I referred to them as the Book of Rules.
Examples: My toothbrush goes in only one place in the cabinet and no where else. I sleep in my clothes prepared for anything. I can’t eat the same thing more than once a day. In order to make sure I completely clean my plate, I avoid putting too much food on it at one time. When I am done eating, I am done even if there are only two or three bites left in the container. (This makes my partner crazy for good reason. Imagine a refrigerator filled with containers with two bites of food in them.) I try to eat my food only on my favorite plate color which means I put the plates away so my favorites are on the bottom ready for my use. I use toilet paper to blow my nose as Kleenex is only for when I’m really sick despite the fact we have Kleenex boxes all around the house.
Living with me has never been easy. However, living with me when I am determined not to break a rule I hold dear even when I have no idea why a particular rule exists is just plain exasperating. Over the last few years, I have come to realize, at least theoretically, that my desire to identify and follow rules was how I learned to deal with childhood abuse. I learned that if I can control not making a mistake or “breaking a rule,” I can hopefully avoid punishment.
More recently, I have been struggling to notice when I am following a rule and ask myself why. This may sound simple. In my reality, it is a mammoth struggle. Each rule was established for a reason even if I have no clue any longer what the reason was.
It’s a bit like our civil laws over the long haul. There may have been a perfectly good reason why a law was created 100 or 200 years ago. However over time, the law has become unpractical or ridiculous. A mark of healthy growth is to recognize when such laws, or as with individuals, behaviors, expectations, or patterns cease to serve us.
When I am doing something that makes no sense, I try to identify the rule I am following. Once I have that information, I can begin to slowly unwrap my motivations to figure out why the rule exists. Then, I need to determine if I want to continue to have such a rule.
I grew up in a family where teenagers have bad acne. My mother waged a holy war against the acne on my face. The acne was hideous. There are very few pictures of me from this time. However in waging this war, my mother was against any type of grease, oil, or cream that might clog pores on my face. As a result, I hate grease, oil, or cream. I hate it on my hands and face. I have trouble rubbing cream on any parts of my body.
I think it’s pretty obvious that my dislike of these products is an overdone strength. In fact, the rule to never put cream or lotion on my face is just plain stupid. It gets in the way of sun screen and chapped cheeks. It gets in the way of addressing any other dry spots. The rule was drilled into me. In fact, I remember washing my face with pHisoHex numerous times a day to get the grease off my face at my mother’s instruction. (Now, we know skin grease is not what causes acne and pHisoHex is now considered toxic.)
The thing is I know this thinking is unhelpful. I know my face needs sunscreen. But, it feels TERRIBLE to me to have greasy or creamy stuff on my face. It feels wrong, bad, and yes, like I am breaking a rule. How do I overcome this?
I know now that the most effective way is to make a new memory pathway for my mind. Put cream on my face once a week for a year? At some point, maybe it won’t feel so wrong. On the other hand, how much energy do I want to put into this little project and what’s the downside of not making the effort. In this case, dry or sunburned skin. In other cases, it could be something worse.
Wandering around in my native habitat, I am aware of things that are not right and appear to be the result of efforts to keep them from being right. The word that most often comes to me is that it’s a PLOT.
Sometimes, a cabinet door isn’t closed completely. The screen door isn’t clicked closed. A picture is crooked again. Didn’t I just fix that?! I look at my parked car. Does it look crooked? My inner voice is pleading with me to “Let it go! Let it go! It’s not important!” While my rule voice is saying, “It’s not right! Fix it. Do whatever it takes.”
What are “They” (the Omnipotent They) going to try on me next? Signs and coffee tables are crooked. The rug on the floor isn’t square. I adjust them but they never seem fixed. I can’t seem to not correct my grammar or punctuation in a text or email. Who cares? Is this part of, “Everything is an interview?”
Rules, compulsions, obsessions. Life is a bloody mess. I’m holding on with my hands, fingers, arms, feet, legs, and occasionally my teeth. I feel pressured to figure this out so all the laid back joys of life will be mine. I’m afraid time is running out. “Really, Joceile, a little cream on your face won’t hurt you.”
“Says who?...”
L’Chaim.
Joceile
1.24.18
[Picture: Sheet of notebook paper that says, “Book of Rules” listing: Temperature, Trucks/Cars, Food, Hygiene, Pets, General Philosophy, Travel, Clothing, Security, Great Questions of the Ages.]
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