ANONYMOUS — Sometimes I feel fondly — even grateful — for hitting what I consider rock bottom . . . so long as I never have to visit there again.

If there’s a contest between life’s ups and downs, ups are in. Some people pop pills to stay up.

Up is nothing to sneeze at, certainly, but I also believe that down is a place where you can do some foundation work for a personal renovation.

My downward journey started . . .

with an early-childhood pattern of dysfunction. I remember playing Monopoly with my brothers while my parents fought loudly downstairs, or writing silly songs in my bedroom while my parents fought loudly downstairs.

You get the idea. As often as possible I would find a bubble of escape — sometimes to friends’ homes for sleepovers, where I would get a dose of “up.”

The goofy banter at their breakfast tables was a sweet symphony compared with the cacophony of crying and pleading in our house. My parents split up when I was a teenager, yet my diaries reflect nothing dark from those days. They’re all about “Mom’s yummy fudge!”, or “the cute guy who smiled at me in the elevator.”

Writing my life “up,” however, didn’t make it so.

Marrying ‘normal’

I thought I was smarter than everyone when I married a very nice guy with “normal” parents. I’d show my family. Marriage and stability were easy. I could make mine last because I had found love.

But I had a little magnet inside me that kept pulling me to darkness, or darkness to me.

In a picture of us camping, he is kissing our dog’s head and has his arm around me. His devotion is clear to me now. He respected me, but back then I didn’t believe anyone could.

I was in a constant state of fear, bracing myself for when it would all end, when he would leave me for a sweet co-worker or hot neighbor.

“Up,” in other words, didn’t feel natural. After seven years, the marriage was over.

From divorce to down time with a lost soul

After I left him, boy did I visit some darkness. I found a lost soul, a heavy equipment operator in whose presence I felt used, dirty, small and afraid. Something inside me would never allow me to move in with him.

I felt strangely at home in his madness, but would always return home, into the light.

Saturday: Shooting hoops at the local rec centre, just the two of us. I’m losing. First he tries to show me how to shoot, but I keep missing. He’s getting annoyed. I let out a nervous laugh. Quite suddenly, his face tenses up and turns red and he screams, enraged:

“YEAH SO I’M A BETTER ATHLETE THAN YOU. FUCKING GET OVER IT!”

Huh? I back away slowly. The front desk guy comes in and checks if everything’s okay. My boyfriend says, “yeah” and smirks. When the coast is clear, he grabs my left breast.

Sunday: Back in my apartment, the sun streams through the lace curtains. I bake muffins and savor them with a pot of strawberry tea. After breakfast, I walk half an hour through town to the local beach. A group of friends are waiting with guitars. I’ve brought mine, too. I play and sing for hours in the sand with positive, friendly people, enjoying the sun on my face. Even more wonderful is the absence of tension. This is how life should be, isn’t it? But I really should be getting back.

Darkness, light. I juggled those for a year until I was almost hopelessly sucked into the darkness.

I tried to leave the scary guy several times but had a disturbing, recurring thought:

“I don’t want to be happy. I want to be with him.”

When I bounced this line off my younger brother, he laughed and said that that would be a wonderful T-shirt for women who shack up with abusers.

I was smart enough to see the ridiculousness of my ways, always kept a foot on the upside — and one day left the darkness for good.

The light had always surrounded me, but I finally chose to live there.

Life has small, manageable ups and downs. The world is full of darkness, but none as dark as what can happen inside one’s own head.

Today, I’m surrounded by so much sunshine from every angle that I can’t believe I ever let myself slide into that deep, dark pit. The memory of my little “visit” still makes me sick to my stomach. But I had to touch bottom before springing back up.

The author chose not to share that she was stalked at the time she wrote this, in addition to the situation that she described above. Soul’s Code adds it to the record as a testament to our contributor’s capacity to transcend the circumstances of story and narrative.

BY CASSANDRA KELLY — Sometimes, to amuse myself, I think about the parallels between my life and the lives of those that our society has deemed “famous” or “stars.” For instance, I grew up in poverty — so did Gloria Estefan.  I’m a pilates lover and so is Jen Anniston.

And so this is how Arnold surfaced into my consciousness.  His recent declaration of infidelity, which produced a child with his ex-housekeeper, blew peoples’ minds — except for those who believe everything they read in the National Enquirer and an explosive expose in the L.A Times detailing a history of sexual harassment that Schwarzenegger’s proxies attacked in the final days of his election to become California’s governor.

It seems that Arnold and I both shared parallel secrets. In public: monogamous. Behind the scenes, not so much

To date, similar to Arnold, I’ve been living a life of non-responsible, non-monogamy (the old “don’t ask, don’t tell” routine which so many people embrace).  However, if I had the guts, I would probably be living a life of responsible non-monogamy.

Yet it would be a huge gamble to give up the safety-net of a committed relationship and throw myself into a sea of unknown forces. Like many, I’m not brave enough to do that.

Is this a problem? Well, it wouldn’t be if I had maintained singleton status throughout my life.  But I haven’t.

I’ve had three major long-term relationships, and have cheated (such an ugly, yet accurate, word) on all of my significant others . . . starting with my first boyfriend at age 15.

The history of my discontent

With Boyfriend 1 (BF1) the infidelity was with his cousin— in a horse stable, of all places.  Come to think of it, this is probably the genesis of where my leather fetish started

These activities were just minor “fooling around” really . . . not the full Monty of intercourse.  I waited until I arrived at college before I unleashed a full non-monogamous onslaught, but only after BF1 had tried to break up with me a few times, so I guess I felt justified in my actions.

Sort of a ‘you hurt me, I’ll hurt you scenario’.

With my next major relationship, I was monogamous with Boyfriend 2 for a few years, until he told me that HE had been unfaithful. This was incredibly upsetting, and perhaps was what later gave me a sense of carte blanche to start an affair with one of our married friends.

On to Major Relationship # 3, my current and longest-term relationship. Nope, still not monogamous . . . and although we went through some tough periods where I thought he might have had an affair, I got over that and moved on. Well, I moved on . . . into the arms of another person for two year long, messy affair that ended badly.  Did I learn my lesson?  Time will tell!

So what’s the deal here? Am I some kind of freak of nature? Am I trying to have my cake and eat it too, like our friend Arnold?

Or is the fact that I have tried to fit my personality and taste for variety into a monogamous way of life not realistic for me, and in fact, for many other people?

Let’s talk about. . . responsible non-monogamy

Recently I’ve uncovered an idea and a lifestyle called responsible non-monogamy which has opened my eyes to a few home truths.

What I’m currently contemplating is if we, as a society, should use the word “relationship” when trying to define the interactions between husband and wife, girlfriend and boyfriend, girlfriend and girlfriend and boyfriend and boyfriend. As Eckhart Tolle’s companion explains in a piece featured on Souls Code, just using the loaded words “in a relationship” sets up a whole dynamic of unhealthy expectations.

Have you tried a responsible or a non-responsible, non-monogamous lifestyle?  Have you tried to interact with partners outside of the definition of “relationships?” Feel free to share your positive and negative experiences via the comments section.

On the butt end of bullying? Here’s the spiritual argument against turning the other cheek.

BY JIM BOUCHARD – What if you could look inside the soul of a bully? What would you find? 

Conventional wisdom says the bully is insecure. He finds some sense of power and control in the world by using force to get his way. He’s often the progeny of a bully himself, was raised to bully others or at least knows no other way. The bully, we’ve been told, is a loner who is insensitive to the feelings of others and incapable of empathy. He finds his greatest satisfaction in the suffering of others. 

To be blunt, the bully is a jerk.

An enlightened person would be the opposite of the bully, right? If you are enlightened you wouldn’t think of taking advantage of others or causing pain and suffering to satisfy personal ambitions and desires. You’re always careful to consider other people’s feelings and when your needs and desires conflict with someone else’s, you’re willing to step aside to keep the peace. 

You’re a nice person who lives by the Golden Rules: Do no harm. Turn the other cheek. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. 

But wait… does this make you an enlightened person or a coward?

The scars of bullying sometimes heal with time – a message Dan Savage is spreading to gay teens everywhere via YouTube – but not always. And other forms of bullying, the adult kind, go on for as long as the victim is stuck in the same workplace or social circle where the bully hangs out. In worst-case scenarios people get physically hurt or emotionally snap. Bullying can even kill, which raises a lot of questions: Are there times when aggression is appropriate and being nice is wrong, irresponsible or even dangerous? Is it okay to prey on the weak in, say, business or sports but not in personal relationships? What about when protecting someone else?

A weakness for power

Recent studies into the mindset of the bully reveal a somewhat different perspective than the traditional profile. 

The soul of the bully is that of a person who is often quite comfortable with himself. Far from lacking self-esteem, he may in fact be very confident and have a well developed sense of self-worth. The bully is often extremely popular and may be the class president, star athlete and later the CEO, the office manager or head of the PTA. 

The bully may in fact be the most popular person in the group, easily attracting plenty of friends and followers. People clamor to be accepted by the bully and are all too often eager to do anything to earn his favor.

Have you ever used force or coercion to get your way? Have you ever taken advantage of someone weaker or someone in a vulnerable situation? Does any part of this profile apply to you? 
Now being attractive, popular, socially adept or even powerful does not necessarily make you a bully. There’s an important semantic distinction between a leader and a despot – between someone who is powerful or ambitious and a bully.

The difference is an imbalance of power. When you leverage an imbalance of power to demean, diminish, terrorize or destroy someone else, you’re a bully. 

The power of the bully depends on this imbalance. You take away the power of the bully by refusing to surrender your own power. Confidence, courage and strength are the antidote for the bully. 

It isn’t always necessary to punch a bully in the face, though I will hold out that option should the situation justify it!

Standing up to the bully often means simply confronting the behavior head-on. It means refusing to allow the bully to take advantage of you, and telling him that you will not tolerate his behavior. 

Sometimes it means walking away – but walk, don’t run!

When to rock the boat

I do try to live by the Golden Rule of “do no harm.” However, I remember a very useful story in which the Buddha, travelling with his entourage, was crossing a river on a ferry.

A rather nasty, sword-wielding character was about to attack, rob and rape the group made up largely of pacifists who took “do no harm” very seriously! 

One of the followers asked the Buddha what they should do: 

“Stop him!” 

The Buddha gave orders for the hit! Was this his Tony Soprano moment? Was the Buddha advocating violence? 

No. He was defining violence in context. The robber was the one committing the violence. It was not an act of violence to stop him, even by force. In this situation, to do nothing would have done more harm, and that’s what we too often do when confronted by the bully. Nothing.

You can’t expect to change the soul of the bully, but you can resolve not to tolerate exploitation whether it’s against you or someone else. 
Standing up to the bully is an act of courage, and it’s the right thing to do. Tolerance and pacifism can be acts of courage or masks for cowardice.

I’m a simple guy who lives life at street level. I haven’t always stood up to the bully. Sometimes I’ve run away from him; but when I have I’ve never escaped. It may seem prudent in the moment to run, but a moment can stay with you long after any bully is long gone. Every moment of courage builds your capacity to act courageously. Every moment of cowardice makes it easier to rationalize being a coward, and that’s a terrible thing to live with.

You may not be able to change the soul of the bully, but you have absolute control over your “Soul’s Code.” 

The fact is we can’t stop bullying. One by one, however, we can stop the bully.

Martial arts transformed Jim’s self-perception from former drug abuser and failure to successful entrepreneur and Black Belt. As a speaker and author of Amazon bestseller Think Like a Black Belt, Jim tours nationally presenting his philosophy of Black Belt Mindset for corporate and conference audiences. He’s a regular guest on TV and radio programs including FOX News, BBC Worldview and FOX Across America. Read his blog at http://thinklikeablackbelt.org/

Read the Soul’s Code exclusive series, Sins of my Faith

In Marina’s last episode she begins therapy with a psychologist and realizes that she’s become estranged from both her creative, and feminine sides.

BY MARINA GIULLIANI — After years of hopping from bed to bed I’d finally found a place where I felt truly comfortable.  I sealed my promiscuous past in a vault at the back of my head and jumped at the chance for a normal relationship.

Chris was the love of my life, and we were involved in a full time relationship from first sight. The product of a nasty alcoholic father, and a mother who made up for all his father’s evil deeds, Chris had more goodness than any human being I’d ever met.

My Aunt Joan even commented on his photo, “Oh my God Marina, he looks like Christ.  Look at his eyes!” He was such a gentle soul, even tempered, thoughtful, kind and loved me in a way I could never have imagined. He’d been raised a Catholic, but wasn’t practicing, so I didn’t hold it against him.  Chris was the only man I’d ever met that didn’t make screwing his reason for living. We loved each other deeply, and had a fun and exciting sex life.  At first.

My Grandfather and abuser catches up with me

After two years together, Chris asked me to marry him. Our wedding day was truly extraordinary.  My grandfather’s comment was the most memorable of all.  After too many drinks he took my hand in the most grandfatherly way, smiled adoringly and uttered words that made my skin crawl.

“Remember, you’ll always be my lover.”  Did he realize what he was saying?  Was it a Freudian slip?  It had been years since anything happened.  Could he possibly have meant that the way it came out?  He then swung his arm in a grand gesture and burned my wedding dress with his goddamn cigarette.   Nice touch Gramps.  I smoked quite a few joints on our wedding night.

Chris and I had started a business together a year earlier, and, after our wedding, I quit my job so we could work it together full-time.  He was a talented art director, I was a TV producer/director, and work was coming in fast and furious. Our love life fell off bit by bit, but I attributed it to all work, no play and the general strain of looking after our life.

A friend once asked me, “Do you still enjoy sex with your husband?” “Enjoy it?”  I thought.  “I can’t remember the last time we did it.”  Her story was the same, so I figured our life was like most everyone else’s and didn’t concern myself over it.

Besides, Chris was an incredibly kind man, which made me love him even more.  I just chalked it up to ours being a more spiritual than physical relationship. We didn’t need sex. We were deeper than animal urges. I never for a moment wanted to change that.

My father’s death changes everything

In the years to come we continued down the same path until my father fell ill with cancer and died nine months later.  As my father slipped away from me so did my mind, but I didn’t seem to miss it for almost a year.  While one part of me was playing dutiful daughter and wife, the other part was living in a parallel universe.

I had been working via email with a West coast writer who, I found out, shared my warped Catholic heritage.  He was too funny for my own good.  We bonded one day over a very raunchy crack I made, involving him, the Pope and a blow job, and the banter continued daily from there.

When I mentioned one day that my father was dying, in a single keystroke he went from being my daily dose of wise ass to compassionate friend.  Words of wisdom flowed from this man like he could actually see what was inside me, one day a joke, the next a wicked story and the day after that a prayer.  An email love affair was in the works, and I didn’t even realize it was happening.

Starting to reclaim myself — but healing takes much longer

When my Dad died, Chris was by my side for a few hours and then scooted back to work.  We had breezed by each other, coming and going so fast in the previous months, that it was the most time I could remember his being near to me in a long time. So a few weeks later I dropped a bombshell squarely on his head.

“I’ve been unhappy with our relationship for a long time.”  The words were totally calm and unrehearsed.  “I just realized that I’ve been getting more support from a stranger, a person I’ve never seen, than you’ve ever been able to give me.  You left me alone on the day of my father’s funeral, so I’m withdrawing our lifetime guarantee.”

In the months that followed, I spoke to almost no one. I spent my days sitting in a chair.  I hardly ate, couldn’t sleep and lived for the next email message.  All the signs of depression were surfacing, and I didn’t recognize one of them, or myself.

When friends would call, I hurried them off the phone and checked my email again.  Everything I did focused the high that came with chasing a cyber lover.

Marina Giulliani’s book, Sins of My Faith: Innocence Lost to Incest, chronicles a true story of stolen innocence and the ultimate redemption of a little girl raised in the Roman Catholic tradition.

Read the previous episode of this Soul’s Code exclusive from the book Sins of my Faith.

Recession pushed a real-life couple into therapy.  What they found when they got there: money was synonymous with love and security.

DAVID RICKEY — In early 1988 I began work with a couple, (we’ll call them George and Martha), whose relationship seemed to be a victim of the ’87 recession. Martha worked as an interior designer; George worked at a Wall Street investment firm.

The recession was the cause of his being laid off and it also saw a decline in her business. Before this upheaval they had lived a very comfortable lifestyle on the Upper Westside of Manhattan.

They came to me because they found that most of the time that they were together now, they were fighting or just irritable, and there was a big decline in intimacy. They thought all this had to do with the decline in their income and therefore the lowering of their “lifestyle”.

While on the surface this was true, as they talked with me — both individually and as a couple — it became clear that the financial shift really served to bring to the surface deeper issues.

This couple had both come to the relationship with several unconscious expectations. Her father had been a “good provider” who worked long hours for his family. George’s father had measured self-worth by what you produced.  Martha had the expectation that “the man would provide”. He had a tenuous sense of self-worth. Martha was now “having to be” the primary provider. She felt stressed by the decline in her work and resentful that he wasn’t “providing”. George felt her resentment and blamed himself for “not producing”.

Their communication suffered because she could only blame him for not being what he was supposed to be — and he couldn’t defend himself without being angry, because on a deep level, he agreed with her. And that was too painful to admit.

Over the years I have found that arguing face-to-face is usually a set-up for disaster. It’s more like a tug-o-war as each tries to hold on to their fragile sense of self, in defense against the expertise of the attack.

“I” statements often end up being juxtaposed with “You” statements. Martha would say “Why do I have to be working so hard? If you cared you’d find a job and take the pressure off me!” For a while, George had trouble interviewing for jobs because he felt unqualified. The sense of relationship, intimacy, was diminished.

When the argument is about money, as many will be in these times, a deeper issue is looming. Money is synonymous, unconsciously, with love and security.  If there seems to be not enough money, the experience is: “I am not loved, or lovable, or safe.” Or just primal id-space anxiety.

A technique I use is for the couple to sit next to each other, side by side, and imagine the “problem” to be on the coffee table in front of them.  It’s like Margaret Cullens’ description of the Aikido approach to conflict: “We” are working together to solve “this” problem that we are looking at together.

This creates a sense of caring and companionship which bolsters the sense of being loved – “You are with me in this.” It diminishes the level of anxiety from being isolated. It is also easier to see what possible solutions there are from the shared, “How can we solve this problem?” The marriage vow says: “I will be with you in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer.” These are life experiences we will share, and together we will find a way through them.

George and Martha began to sense a new togetherness. Their relationship became less dependent on having and doing, and more supported by “being” together. George’s defensiveness shifted to, “how can I help you while I’m looking for a better job?”

Martha began to realize that they were “managing” and would survive as they worked together toward a better solution. They began to enjoy finding creative ways of living with less because they were doing it together.

They were able to let go expectations from their histories and no longer look to the other to provide materially or bolster a sagging sense of self-worth.

In this way they each healed the inner wounds they had absorbed from their parents. Martha realized that her father paid for being a good provider by being frequently absent from the family. George could see how his father never felt “good enough” and had passed that on to him.

In the end, the external financial crisis gave them the opportunity to re-prioritize their lives to spend more time together and to find work that was satisfying a truer sense of self rather than an internalized expectation they had inherited. Martha could find satisfaction in her design work without focusing on making money. George found a new job for less money but for a non-profit organization he believed in.

I can’t say with certainty that they lived happily ever after. But last time I saw them they did seem more alive and vibrant.  Maybe you have a similar story that you’d like to share . . .

David Rickey is an Episcopal priest, Soul’s Code co-founder and counselor in San Francisco who does a weekly ministry at a residence for the elderly in northern California. Follow David on Twitter.