Red flags and Throwing in the Towel

I admit it. I'm high maintenance.

Maybe it goes back to when I was born a month early, weighing barely over 4 lbs., and was placed in an incubator at the country hospital (more understaffed then than now). My mother picked me up thirty days later. I asked once if she visited me and she said, "Well, I didn't have a car and it was too long a bus ride. I knew you were okay." That set the tone for our lifelong relationship. Someone who knew us both once called her "the mother who wasn't."

Don't get me wrong. I've stopped whining about this long ago. I only mention it now because as an adult I realize and admit that I require attention -- in that I want and need to be accepted personally, and respected professionally. If you are a Virgo, you need not read on. You already know what I'm about to say.

I set very high standards for myself as well as for others. I am honest (sometimes to a fault) and loyal (sometimes to a fault). I am sensitive (sometimes to a fault). I take relationships seriously and rarely hold back. I jump in with both feet and I make the common mistake of assuming others in the relationship are equally invested. That, however is rarely the case. No one else carries my baggage. Doesn't make them a bad person, just places them into a different category than me.

I am vulnerable in my interactions and, because I grew up having to actually protect myself from verbal, physical, and sexual assault on a regular basis, I am hyper vigilant. At the first hint of "danger" -- perceived or real -- I bristle. My inner 4-lb baby takes a deep breath, ready to holler and make her needs known.

Once I've been hit hard enough to have the wind knocked out of me though, I retreat. I'd like to say I'm not a quitter, but it would be an untruth. Know the saying, "It's all fun and games till someone gets hurt?" I'm naive enough and hopeful enough to keep going back for more... until I no longer feel safe in the relationship. That's when I quit, take my marbles and go home. Makes no sense to stay.

I actually had the wind knocked out of me when I was six or seven, by my two-hundred-pound stepfather who socked me in the stomach. I thought I was dying because it was the first time I
could, literally, not breathe. My mother told me it was my own fault. If I'd kept my mouth shut he wouldn't have hit me.

But keeping my mouth shut goes against my nature. When, as a kid, there was no one else standing up for me, I grew up defending myself. As an adult I know sometimes the best thing to say is nothing, but during my formative years there was a direct line of communication from my gut to my mouth. Something to say? I spit it out. Damn the consequences. That die has been cast and, as an adult I'll say what I feel, regardless of the price.

This is years of professional therapeutic analysis speaking, that adds up to: An unlevel playing ground in a relationship isn't only difficult for me, it's dangerous. Unlevel can too easily lead to the proverbial slippery slope. Red flags on the field are so easily ignored when you want to keep playing. But there comes a time when there's nothing left to do but toss in the towel.

When Frank and I were married 35 years ago, an old friend of mine said to him, "I hope you have a strong personality. You'll need it." In retrospect I realize he meant character, not personality. Without strength of character, poor Frank would not have stood a chance. One thing he did was modify the message my mother gave me consistently. She'd say, "You're more trouble than you're worth."

Frank tells me, "You're a lot of trouble AND you're worth it!" Accepting the first half of that comes naturally to me. I'm still working on accepting the second half.