The Power of Labels

Think in your mind of a happy time and a sad time in your life. What do you recall in trying this?

A time that gets my happy stamp of approval is spending time with Granny as a child. 

I picture in my mind an instance where her distant cousin had given to me a new stuffed animal puppy. 

I remember sitting in my Granny’s house holding that brown and white patched pup in the dimly lit, open family room. 

The tv was on, randomly playing the re-runs, that my Granny, brother, and I would watch together. 

I remember feeling the comfort and genuine love she had for my brother and I. 

This was a sweet day I return to in my thoughts. 

The peace, serenity, and feelings of “being home” were mine, and no matter where my Granny lived, that “family as a haven” quality followed, uninterrupted by the outside world.

Now, of course there were interruptions from the outside world. There had to be. 

The idea of separate spheres, divided between the public and private sectors can’t exist in reality.

One doesn’t wear it’s bones, skin, and muscles to work and then come home to somehow remove their bodies to just bear their souls. 

It just doesn’t happen. 

Therefore, what you do outside your home and within your home are connected. 

And, though, we may pretend to be different away from our houses to appease the expectations of others, who we are still remains. 

It’s just more repressed in fear of the rejection of others. 

Back to my Granny. When she died, my connection to my longing for maintaining my “family as a haven” began to die, too. 

My happiness and identity were dependent on a person and my thoughts about how family life should always be. 

I labeled these experiences as happy and assumed them as a part of my identity. 

This was who I was.

Now, let’s explore a sad time in my life: Marriage in its early form. 

My husband had a side company with a fairly large group of people. He was a promoter. 

Being music addicts, he and some friends decided to organize and throw musical events, and they were good. 

Near the beginning of their existence, the parties could reach almost 3,000 people. I’d say there was something special about what they did. 

But what did this mean for me? 

This is a time in my life that I attach negative emotions and memories to, because I wasn’t a part of that movement. 

I was a new mother, and you can only guess what that meant. 

Late nights hosting parties for my husband and his comrades translated to late nights seething in sadness and wallowing in feelings of rejection for me. 

I began to despise techno music, and felt replaced by his new life outside our marriage with his friends. 

And if you want to get me riled up, just tell me that you’re going to a techno show or even better... 

That you’re getting together with your old friend “what’s his name”. 

This is my life now. 

Hubby is meeting with “what’s his name”, can I call him James? Short for James Bond? 

He seems internationally invisible and naturally suave and elite, like a ladies’ man. 

They’re spending a lot of extra time together, and I just can’t get away from how this makes me feel. 

Doesn’t he remember how hard this is on my heart? 

Doesn’t he know that what he’s taking on will further draw the line between us, our already minimal bedtime sitcom watching rituals, and me? 

My only help as of now is to help myself to define the labels involved and the power they have over me. 

I am allowing my happiness to be thwarted by labels I have placed on people and things. 

Bond and techno are both triggers that further diminish any kind of future relationships involving these things. 

Mental images, perceived threats, failed expectations, and words are shutting off all opportunities tied to those two things. 

And you can be certain that with these, comes a heightened fear that soon, again, I will be replaced by life outside of our family, which as a child held the image of calmness, comfort, and a place where everyone belonged. 

Does this mean that I should find ways to belong and counter negativity with new positive memories? 

Should I find time to get involved in more of my husband’s circles of friends? 

It’s not all guys. 

I usually encounter insecurity in myself, and feel like a dweeb in the corner, pushing up a pair of over-sized glasses on my frail and frozen face. 

Maybe if I could change my ideas about these triggers, their labels would change, too. 

Can I divert the reactionary future of automated response and switch my thinking to “manual”? 

Can I override fear with pleasure and be uninhibited by the labels I have for others, objects, and the power they have over me?

Can I be the one in charge of my own emotions and stop the spreading of negative banter and its effects on my self-worth?

Can I imagine how responding differently, with unattached labels would benefit in healing and the self-actualization process?