~*~
I don't have one this time.
This past month, all of my old-fashion, tube TVs were carted off to the dumpster, replaced by Mike's high tech, HDTV flat-screens.
The headboard I rescued from the dumpster and the IKEA dresser I so diligently constructed? Those are gone too, replaced by a beautiful bedroom suite Mike had delivered to the apartment on Friday.
Due to my fear of abandonment (I fundamentally believe I am unworthy of love - unlovable - and that once anyone finds out "who I really am," they will reject me) and my overwhelming need to control everything in my environment (a fear-based survival technique I learned from growing up in alcohol-fueled, dysfunctional chaos), I always have a Plan B.
When I was 10, I kept track of grocery prices - figuring out how I could feed myself on $5/week just in case my dad finally kicked me out of the house for being less than perfect. I saved a portion of my allowance until I had $20 saved up for just such an emergency.
When I was 15, I used that $20 - plus Christmas money - to purchase a Greyhound bus ticket to Spokane, and to support myself for a few days while I worked on figuring out where I was going to live after it became clear it was no longer safe to live in my parent's home.
Plan B is critical.
Plan B is a "Get Out Of Jail FREE" card.
Plan B is self-preservation.
I always have a Plan B.
I don't have one this time.
And I feel terrifyingly out of control.
This past month, all of my old-fashion, tube TVs were carted off to the dumpster, replaced by Mike's high tech, HDTV flat-screens.
The headboard I rescued from the dumpster and the IKEA dresser I so diligently constructed? Those are gone too, replaced by a beautiful bedroom suite Mike had delivered to the apartment on Friday.
Due to my fear of abandonment (I fundamentally believe I am unworthy of love - unlovable - and that once anyone finds out "who I really am," they will reject me) and my overwhelming need to control everything in my environment (a fear-based survival technique I learned from growing up in alcohol-fueled, dysfunctional chaos), I always have a Plan B.
When I was 10, I kept track of grocery prices - figuring out how I could feed myself on $5/week just in case my dad finally kicked me out of the house for being less than perfect. I saved a portion of my allowance until I had $20 saved up for just such an emergency.
When I was 15, I used that $20 - plus Christmas money - to purchase a Greyhound bus ticket to Spokane, and to support myself for a few days while I worked on figuring out where I was going to live after it became clear it was no longer safe to live in my parent's home.
Plan B is critical.
Plan B is a "Get Out Of Jail FREE" card.
Plan B is self-preservation.
I always have a Plan B.
I don't have one this time.
And I feel terrifyingly out of control.
~*~