Resentment journal

I finally figured out what this blog is for me. It’s a “resentment journal”! From here:

Keep a resentment journal. Whenever I’m marching around muttering cuss words under my breath, I grab what I lovingly refer to as my Damn It! Diary and write down what’s going on. I’ve noticed that I’m most resentful when I’m tired and overwhelmed—i.e., not setting boundaries.

I LOVE Brene Brown! I am part of a book club a friend started, and I have determined I absolutely love this group of women and the books we’ve been reading. Per one of the members, “Do we always have to do self-help?” Obviously, no. But the first two books have been fab in that regard. Especially the latest one, which is Daring Greatly, by Brene Brown.

Oh, Brene, I wish I had found you in my teens. I’ll settle for being in my 40s and finally getting my shit together.

Daring Greatly is all about vulnerability and shame and why we feel so awful because we either don’t want to let people in (who could hurt us) or we try to overcompensate and let everyone in. I’m the former. I am not warm and fuzzy. I don’t like people knowing my secrets. I’m so slow to let people in and get to know my deepest, darkest feelings. And this latest issue with Belinda the fitness coach totally cemented why I don’t do that.

When I first met Belinda, my lizard brain said, “Nah, I’m not going to let her in too much. Just enough to meet my goals and do the work, but not enough to get hurt.”

After the first month, it was apparent Belinda was warm and funny and open. She shared her deep thoughts readily. I thought it was little strange how easily she gushed – it kind of reminded me of overly friendly, flaky friends I’ve had in the past – but I went with the flow. Against my better judgement, I opened up. Lizard brain said, “Ok. This feels safe.”

When Belinda snapped, it was obvious that she had very little in the way of boundaries. Here was someone I had a professional relationship with and it felt like some of my closest, albeit dysfunctional, relationships. Lizard brain said, “See, bitch? This is why we don’t do this. Close that shit down.”

And since then, I haven’t responded to any of her Facebook posts, her messages, etc. I don’t know what to do. I’m kind of paralyzed in that regard. If it was a different situation, where she wasn’t fucking suicidal, I wouldn’t feel so bad about saying, “Hey, this isn’t working for me. I think I’m done.” But to say that right now would, for lack of a better phrase, another nail in the coffin. I hate that I am really good at feeling people out, at figuring out how they tick. It sucks!

I did see my therapist, Dr. W., last week and felt really good to be seeing someone with SOLID professional boundaries. Boy, does it pay to see a good therapist! Her mouth dropped open when I told her about Belinda. She agreed with my assessment of the situation. I felt so much better!

Now I’m trying to craft a email to my coach to tell her I think she’s wonderful (she really is), but how I need boundaries. I have to do it with kid gloves, because god forbid I set her over the edge and hear about her untimely demise due to a client’s words. Blah.


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