Welcome to can’t relate, a newsletter from me, Maria Del Russo, that I write biweekly on Fridays. If you were sent this newsletter by a friend (such an excellent friend) or clicked through this link via my social channels, then you can also subscribe by clicking below.
xx MDR
So here’s the thing—even though I have recently decided that I am above resolutions and future-planning, I am still a person who is (likely) overly interested in self-improvement. Is it narcissism? Perhaps. But after living nearly 32 years in my own head, I’m ready to start clearing out the rubble, and figuring out ways of growing and coping that make it a little less scary in there. Because yikes.
The first order of business? Tending to my own front lawn and not worrying about how someone is tending to their own.
Now, I obviously don’t have a physical front lawn. I live in an apartment building in Brooklyn and I don’t even have heat I can control. I’m talking more about my emotional front lawn.
I have a hard time separating my own emotions from the people around me. I constantly worry myself about whether a friend is having a good time at a party, or whether a date is enjoying the restaurant that I chose, or if my parents are actually annoyed by having to drive me from New Jersey back into Brooklyn. (Even though they’re the ones who offered.)
These seemingly minor worries take over my entire brain. I spend so much time hand-wringing over other people’s emotions and feelings that I completely ignore my own. Even if a friend is having a good time, or my parents are completely happy to take the drive, I convince myself that they are secretly stewing, and I feel awful. This feeling is, obviously, heightened if I *know* they’re not 100% happy. I begin an apology tour at that point, badgering them with “I’m sorry” until they probably are fed up with me.
Some may call this me being a people pleaser, but it sets me up for codependent dynamics, making it so I can’t be happy if other people are even slightly unhappy or uncomfortable. It also, conveniently, gives me permission to ignore my own feelings in order to tend to someone else’s. This is especially true in relationships. In the past, I’ve found myself in situations where, three months in, I realize that I’ve spent so much energy on getting them to like me that I have no true concept of whether or why I like them.
Is it any surprise, then, that I’m having a teensy identity crisis as I barrel toward my 32nd birthday? I’ve spent the better part of three decades putting how I feel on a shelf in order to accommodate other people. And, truly, I’m just exhausted by it all.
As you can probably imagine, though, it’s a difficult muscle to unclench. So what do I do when the panic swirls, when my friend looks bored at dinner, or when I’m worrying whether my date really wanted Thai food when I had a craving for tacos? I stop. I take a deep breath. If I’m alone, I walk myself over to my mirror, look at myself in the eye, and tell myself to relax over and over again. I’ll ask myself what evidence I have that the person in question is feeling that way. I point out to myself that this worrying will do nothing but keep me out of the present moment. And when my heart rate has leveled, and the prickly heat of anxiety has receded back down my neck, I remind myself that I can only control my own mind, and that I am not responsible for other peoples’ feelings.
I read a quote from poet Ivan Nuru the other day that dovetailed kind of nicely with this practice: “If it is out of your hands, it deserves freedom from your mind, too.” It’s really self-involved to think that I have the power to calm everyone’s worry, to make everyone happy, to convince people to love me. I can just be myself, and the rest is out of my hands. So there’s really no need to worry.
This practice is still just that, a practice. I’m not perfect at it yet. My mind can still go running in a million directions. But being aware of it feels good, because it’s more manageable, and it allows me to remember that I can pull myself out of the cycle. All I’ve got to do is breathe, and slow down, and tend to my own front lawn. The rest will just happen… probably.
This week’s trio
It’s the simplest recipe on the planet, but this creamy bean stew with a big green salad on the side has been my favorite dinner staple on nights when I just want to feel cozy.
If you haven’t seen Joel Coen’s version of Macbeth starring Denzel Washington and Frances McDormand yet, for the love of god, cancel your plans tonight.
I’ve been trying to set aside 15 minutes each day for any type of writing — this newsletter, journaling, working on my novel outline, whatever. And when I write, I tend to listen to this playlist, which should come as no surprise.
xxMDR
Do you know this woman... https://theanxiousoverachiever.substack.com/ ??? I find she's pretty good as I've always been a card-carrying, hand-wringing codependent :)
In the book: Codependency: "Dont worry about things you can not control." When it comes to dealing with our personal dysfunctional habits we must be honest with ourselves. Suggests watch a movie called Disney the Kid staring Bruce Willis. A good movie about healing our "inner child." Read a book on Boundaries. "Do not let people or environment dictate how you should think and feel." Read a book on Codependency. A book on Honor your Anger. Last book A Course in Miracles. I dealt with my Codependency in the 80s and 90s.