By Donna Hoffmeyer
(original post on Medium)
Armor. No, not the stuff knights wear; the stuff we have been slowly and inconspicuously putting on since childhood. If I were a betting girl, I bet it weighs more than any suit of armor.
For those that joined the military, armor not only was issued physically but emotionally it was handed out at every uncomfortable interaction.
We automatically did it.
It was how we survived.
When I retired, I was aware I had over 20 years of armor built up. The degree, the career, the uniform, the rank, the emotionless exterior, the pragmatic think-through; learning to stuff emotions into some internal box deep inside; appearing to always be in control.
I was aware I had been through a lot over the past 20+ years. I was aware I was having physical responses when my boss was fired and I was placed in position; when my unit lost three staff members to cancer and car accidents over 18 months; when a few disgruntled staff members decided to right their perceived wrongs; after I was ambushed and verbally assaulted in a meeting. I was aware I stuffed my emotions when a co-worker/mentor/friend was killed in a car accident and I was appointed to assist the family. I was aware I had limited responses. I was aware I put up walls around me to (in my mind) protect myself and my family from me.
I was aware. I was so aware of my responses that I even explained to another coworker to not be shocked if she didn’t see me cry at our coworker’s memorial service. It was just how I responded. Did I mention I was also one of the speakers? Not a drop was shed then or for the next 18 months following.
Months after my friend passed, one of my coworkers and I were discussing how everyone was handling his death. During the conversation, she looked at me and said “You are such a rock. I couldn’t believe how well you handled everything. You never dropped a tear.” To which I replied, “Don’t let what you see on the outside fool you. My response is for survival completely maladaptive.” How’s that for some f****ing awareness?
I was so aware, I went to get help. I talked to a therapist for a few months. I did neurofeedback to turn down my parasympathetic responses. Why? Because I was aware, when I was in an intense conversation (which was often during work) I could feel my stomach churn and my heart race. However, on the outside, I was able to adapt and appear cool as a cucumber. I was aware I had a very short fuse at home and yelled when I should have been showing grace.
The problem was I used awareness to justify my state of being. I didn’t own any of it.
Awareness and ownership are two very different things. Look up awareness in any dictionary and the word conscious comes up. Being aware is being conscious. When you are aware, you can see and acknowledge what you are seeing. Yes, it is easy to identify the car is in fact a car, but it doesn’t do anything about the situation. Awareness is needed to help catapult us into ownership.
Ownership is what we need to do with that awareness. When we own something, there is accountability that goes with it. Let’s take a car for example.
Let’s say it is an old muscle car (I’m thinking 68 Olds 442…my dream car). From a distance, you are aware it is an old car. As you get closer, your awareness becomes more focused. You start to see more details and notice it has some issues. Maybe she has rust, the engine block is seized up and the tires are dry-rotted. You realize, if this car is going to be of any value, it needs some TLC. You decide you are going to put the time and effort into improving the car. You do the bodywork, engine work, and replace the tires. It takes time, but at the end of it, you have a restored muscle car. Anyone that crosses paths with you (and has an appreciation for muscle cars) smiles seeing a car that someone cared for. That is ownership.
When we are aware and do not own it, we do not put time and effort in to be able to make the necessary change(s). The rusty car stays a rusty car. I was aware of how I was functioning. I completely knew it was dysfunctional. I even told people how maladapted I was. It wasn’t until I started owning it that I saw measurable change in myself and how I interacted with others. It is a constant work in progress, but the more work I put in, the better the results.
To me, owning it was a process of asking myself “why” over and over until I could figure out where the change needed to occur. Then the hard part, setting a course to improve.
For example, why did I get so worked up internally when I was involved in a tense discussion where someone was challenging me? After enough whys, the bottom line was it was my need for validation, which stemmed from my childhood. We don’t need to get into my mommy/daddy issues…just know I found where the root of the issue was and I was able to work through it.
When we own it, we can heal.
Today, I challenge you to look at what you are aware of and own it. You deserve to heal.
