Lasers, Walls, and Relationships

Photo by Avrajyoti Mitra

My name is Allison, and I shoot lasers from my eyes.

Ok, I can’t literally shoot lasers from my eyes, but it certainly feels that way when I am in a reactive mode.  Sometimes it’s like a wall comes up between the world and me.  The atmosphere becomes more sterile.  My emotions and thoughts are packaged away as much as possible.  Reacting consumes quite a bit of internal energy.  Welcome to The Protector.

I listened to a visualization exercise a while ago that has stuck with me.  The topic was about relationships and vulnerability, or as the recording called it, “intimacy.”  Just hearing the i-word at the beginning of the recording caused a flutter of panic, but I kept listening.

I visualized the setting of a recent significant conversation.  I recalled the feelings of wanting to lean in and yet holding back and not knowing what to do or say and realizing that I was holding my breath so then I tried to breathe normally as I sat very still because I didn’t want to disrupt the moment as my friend talked about something deeply personal.  And as the visualization guide instructed me to picture a wall between the two of us, I happily envisioned a black marble slab that spanned vertically as high as I could see.  I imagined the cold, smooth texture against my hands.  I felt safe touching the wall.  Best wall ever.

Then the guide requested that I remove the wall.  So soon?  I was just getting to know my feelings from the safety of this side of the wall, and now I was slowly removing chunks of the wall.  I would peek over the top at my friend and then hide behind the remaining wall.  Piece by piece, the wall came down.  This was it: intimacy.  Seeing and being seen.  I realized I was holding my breath during the visualization.

What is it about a wall that is so appealing?  I think there’s an air of possibility that comes from the wall.  With a wall, we can be both connected and not.  Without a wall, it is one or the other.  It’s like a Schrodinger’s cat scenario where not removing the wall leaves the possibility of emotions open to imagination.  Removing the wall means intimacy.  Scary!  Which is why I shoot lasers from my eyes.  The lasers of you-should-know-better.  Lasers of don’t-tell-me-that-I-failed-you.  Lasers of this-is-important-and-I’m-disappointed.  The disappointment burns inside and finds its way out of my eyes to the rest of the world.  Self: protected.  World: potentially injured.

It doesn’t have to be that way, and I’m working on it.  I remember how wonderful it felt to be embraced in a really long hug by a fellow coach last year.  It had to be at least 10 seconds of hugging.  Wonderful.  I hold back from proposing such hugs with the people who have made it into my acceptable-for-hugging circle because I haven’t found the words, but I do try to put extra care into the hugs I receive from them and hope the other person recognizes that which is unsaid: you matter to me.

Some relationships may be formed easily and some take more time, but I do not form relationships lightly.  It means I see you for what you are and what you can become, and I delight in it all enough to let you see me too.  That’s why I’m learning to power down the lasers and tear down walls.