July 27, 2011
Bad Timing
Sometimes I have the worst timing. I put my blog on its "updated only once-in-a-while" status just as I was about to hit one of the most challenging times of my life. It's been a difficult few months, not having the support of my bloggy buddies and the survivor solidarity I have always felt here.
Oh well. I haven't had the energy to do all my survivor advocacy stuff I used to do in the blogosphere, either. So I guess it's just one of those trade-offs of life.
As many of you know, my son has special needs and raising him has brought me the most love I have ever experienced, yet tested and challenged me more than I think I can bear sometimes. Up until recently, my son has not had much of a social life, in real life anyway (outside of gaming online and Facebook). Now, this summer, he has started to hang around kids who have way too much freedom, are smoking, doing drugs, etc. He finally feels accepted and I have always longed for him to have that and I know how important it is. I just hope he can come to realize the value of feeling accepted by kids who show more responsibility, make better choices and have stronger values.
So, with the help of his therapist, we've had to come down pretty hard with structure and consequences around here. We now have to up this part of the parenting game even more, as he just came back with dirty results on a recent UA for pot. I wouldn't be so upset about it if he were in college or something...but he is only 14 years old!
I feel amazingly fatigued just sharing this much right now. I'll try to get back and share more later. Any positive vibes, thoughts and/or prayers that any of you can send out there right now would be greatly appreciated.
Oh well. I haven't had the energy to do all my survivor advocacy stuff I used to do in the blogosphere, either. So I guess it's just one of those trade-offs of life.
As many of you know, my son has special needs and raising him has brought me the most love I have ever experienced, yet tested and challenged me more than I think I can bear sometimes. Up until recently, my son has not had much of a social life, in real life anyway (outside of gaming online and Facebook). Now, this summer, he has started to hang around kids who have way too much freedom, are smoking, doing drugs, etc. He finally feels accepted and I have always longed for him to have that and I know how important it is. I just hope he can come to realize the value of feeling accepted by kids who show more responsibility, make better choices and have stronger values.
So, with the help of his therapist, we've had to come down pretty hard with structure and consequences around here. We now have to up this part of the parenting game even more, as he just came back with dirty results on a recent UA for pot. I wouldn't be so upset about it if he were in college or something...but he is only 14 years old!
I feel amazingly fatigued just sharing this much right now. I'll try to get back and share more later. Any positive vibes, thoughts and/or prayers that any of you can send out there right now would be greatly appreciated.
Labels: attachment, being human, breaking the cycle, community, overwhelm, support
July 09, 2009
Helping Your Inner Child Help You
Alice Miller in, Pictures of Childhood, refers to the "child within me." John Bradshaw, in Healing The Shame That Binds You, talks about "liberating your lost inner child."
There are entire books dedicated to "the inner child." One author, Lucia Capacchione, talks about becoming more creative, intuitive and playful by getting in touch with him/her in Recovery of Your Inner Child. This book's got great inner child exercises that are easy to do and I highly recommend it.
Even medical doctors are hopping on the "inner child" band wagon. Charles L. Whitfield, M.D. has written Healing the Child Within for adult children of dysfunctional families. Many of these books are listed at my Survivors Can Thrive! dot com site's Resources section, "Books for Survivors," with direct links to Amazon dot com.
But who is this inner child and why would we--as abuse and assault survivors--want to get to know him or her? I get asked this question a lot. I've also been asked to write about this topic for a guest post that will appear soon over at Michele's blog about healing PTSD.
Actually, this is one of my favorite "healing and therapy" topics. I love talking about my inner child!
But, this topic wasn't always so rosy for me. One of my earlier therapists back in Illinois asked me to pull out a photograph of myself as a baby. As soon as I got on my reading glasses and really looked into my tiny little face in this photo, I began to sob. Immediately, I realized that my vulnerable, precious, innocent child self was holding immense pain.
In those early days of therapy, I did not want to look at my inner child. Her pain just scared me too much. I thought that I would get lost in it; it would swallow me whole.
I can definitely relate to the idea of the inner child as the "exile" in the book, The Mosaic Mind,
as well as in the Internal Family Systems model of therapy developed by Richard Schwartz PhD. For me, my wounded inner child was long ago exiled to a land far away so that I could get things done, get good grades, be successful, appear reliable and dependable...and not look like I was "crazy" or a "loser."
I have "firefighter" parts (another IFS term) who have gone to great, dysfunctional lengths to keep these fearful, sad, lonely, abandoned exile parts quiet. I've run away in dissociative fugues, I've drank myself into a stupor, I've had sex with questionable partners, I've binged on chocolate and I've spent too much money.
But, the exiled, dissociated, cut-off inner child won't stay quiet forever. She's got a message to deliver, a debt that needs to be paid.
At first, I had no idea what it was she was trying to tell me. I was so cut off from my feelings (and my own body) that I could not listen to them, nor honor them. When I went down to the Colin Ross trauma unit in Dallas a few years ago, I was shocked and dismayed to be given a handout of "feeling words" that contained columns of emotion descriptions that I didn't even know were feelings! Now, I'm a writer and I consider myself to have a pretty strong vocabulary, but I just stared at these words at first; they meant nothing to me on any personal level.
But, the folks at the Ross program have their ways. They gave us patients hand-outs with exercises to complete as homework. And, boy, did these get the feelings going! In fact, I had to work with my assigned therapist there to come up with ways that I could pace myself, instead of being completely flooded with the new-found feelings.
If there's anything I've found that helps get in touch with that sometimes-illusive inner child it is FEEL THE FEELINGS! I recommend that you work with a qualified, experienced therapist in order to succeed at this without re-traumatizing yourself.
But, what I really want to talk about here is how to comfort your inner child. If you're like me and you never had any healthy bonding or attachment with your biological mother, there may be some real re-parenting that needs to happen to help your healing.
Some comforting strategies that I've found helpful are easy to do, quite generic and would probably work for most people. I've got an antique rocking chair that I drug out from the basement and positioned prominently in a cozy little reading nook I have in my home. I have an amazingly soft throw blanket that's stationed on the back of the rocker for soothing and warmth. Simply wrapping myself in the soft throw and rocking away works wonders some days. In the summertime, I find the same joy and sweet soothing on my porch swing.
Most folks I've consulted talk about "stuffies," stuffed animals that they find helpful. Now, I find that I'm a little shy about walking around dragging a beloved, raggedy stuffy with me. And most of the stuffed animals I've bought for myself as an adult have ended up being "adopted" by my own son. But, what I have done is reclaimed some of these cushy animals and I've recently given them an honored spot in a beautiful, old baby buggy I found at an antique doll shop. For everyday snuggling and comfort, I keep a small, spotted cat in my bedside drawer. After my husband awakes and exits the bed (he's an early riser), I'll get out my kitty and snuggle with it on days that I feel my inner children need some comfort. This is especially helpful if I've had a night that consisted of any flashbacks, night fears or nightmares.
If you spend some time thinking about how attached many kids get to their beloved stuffed animals, it can give you some hints for other ways of comforting your inner child. Just think of anything that you always wanted as a child. What were some of the things you asked Santa to bring you for Christmas? Remember how the adults in the movie, The Santa Clause, always wanted a "Dream Date" game and an Oscar Mayer wiener whistle?
Now, you don't have to wait for Santa. Go out and get yourself something kid-like that you always dreamed of when you were little. For me, it was a dollhouse. This was something I always wanted and never got when I was little. So, guess what I did? I went to the craft store and purchased an easy-assembly doll house kit and put it together and painted it. Over the past two years, I've been having a ball buying little miniature furniture pieces, potted plants, kitchen items and tiny porcelain dolls for my inner child's doll house. It's a splurge, but it's fun and my inner child is worth it and she deserves it!
Little inner child comforts, treats and pamperings don't have to cost a fortune. They can be easy to come by, but full of rewards. How 'bout getting some colorful sprinkles on that sundae the next time you treat yourself at the ice cream parlor? Why not read yourself a bedtime story while you sit in that rocking chair? Remember the lullaby songs you sang to your child when he or she was an infant? Singing them to your own inner child can be amazingly soothing when your feelings get hurt or you feel wounded or scared in some other way.
Why not buy your inner child some coloring books and some crayons? If you feel embarrassed in the check-out lane, you can always say you're buying these child-like items for a baby shower, child or grandchild. Heck, most people won't even ask, so there's no need to tell. Some friends and neighbors have given me a few curious looks about my doll house, but I just explain that it's a hobby, a creative outlet and--with some trusted others--a gift to my inner child. I've always gotten a smile and a knowing nod or look at the latter explanation.
Comfort food is a whole other category. Why do you think they call it comfort food any way? Maybe because it comforts your inner child! While I love a home-cooked meal of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, I have to be careful with comfort food, because I can have a tendency to binge and to gain too much weight. But, I've found that the simplest little things can qualify as comforting in the food category. Remember those sprinkles I spoke of earlier? I bought myself a little jar of them off the shelf in the baking goods aisle of the grocery store and I give myself a shake of them on a little dip of ice cream now and then. I also like whipped cream for a little treat that tells my inner child, "you're special, you're adorable and I love you." Try a little on your coffee in the morning for a quick, inner child pick-me-up. For a totally low fat comforter, hot herbal tea does wonders.
Some fragrances are "tasty" and comforting, but aren't taken internally at all. No calories there! I especially like honey vanilla lip balm (you can find these at health food stores) and hand lotion with the fragrance of cherry blossoms.
Every person I've ever met with DID (previously MPD) talks about their "littles," or little child parts or alters. I especially like Buffalopine's idea of carrying a small toy in her pocket to soothe her littles. In this blog post, she talks about carrying a Stuart Little key chain with her for an entire year. What inner child wouldn't like a little mouse friend to keep him company?
Speaking of Stuart Little, I've talked to lots of folks who, like myself, really enjoy the inner child treat of watching children's movies. If you're too shy to walk into a children's, G-rated movie without a kid in tow, you can always rent one to watch in the privacy of your own home.
I'm smiling right now just thinking of all these comforting, fun, playful ideas for my inner child recovery program. I can't wait to get off the computer and put some of these ideas into action for my own inner child right away. What would you like to do today to comfort and please your inner child? Don't wait! Get up and do some little thing for your little self right now. And leave me a comment with your favorite inner child comforts, play-date ideas and treats and we'll compile and even bigger list!
There are entire books dedicated to "the inner child." One author, Lucia Capacchione, talks about becoming more creative, intuitive and playful by getting in touch with him/her in Recovery of Your Inner Child. This book's got great inner child exercises that are easy to do and I highly recommend it.
Even medical doctors are hopping on the "inner child" band wagon. Charles L. Whitfield, M.D. has written Healing the Child Within for adult children of dysfunctional families. Many of these books are listed at my Survivors Can Thrive! dot com site's Resources section, "Books for Survivors," with direct links to Amazon dot com.
But who is this inner child and why would we--as abuse and assault survivors--want to get to know him or her? I get asked this question a lot. I've also been asked to write about this topic for a guest post that will appear soon over at Michele's blog about healing PTSD.
Actually, this is one of my favorite "healing and therapy" topics. I love talking about my inner child!
But, this topic wasn't always so rosy for me. One of my earlier therapists back in Illinois asked me to pull out a photograph of myself as a baby. As soon as I got on my reading glasses and really looked into my tiny little face in this photo, I began to sob. Immediately, I realized that my vulnerable, precious, innocent child self was holding immense pain.
In those early days of therapy, I did not want to look at my inner child. Her pain just scared me too much. I thought that I would get lost in it; it would swallow me whole.
I can definitely relate to the idea of the inner child as the "exile" in the book, The Mosaic Mind,
as well as in the Internal Family Systems model of therapy developed by Richard Schwartz PhD. For me, my wounded inner child was long ago exiled to a land far away so that I could get things done, get good grades, be successful, appear reliable and dependable...and not look like I was "crazy" or a "loser."
I have "firefighter" parts (another IFS term) who have gone to great, dysfunctional lengths to keep these fearful, sad, lonely, abandoned exile parts quiet. I've run away in dissociative fugues, I've drank myself into a stupor, I've had sex with questionable partners, I've binged on chocolate and I've spent too much money.
But, the exiled, dissociated, cut-off inner child won't stay quiet forever. She's got a message to deliver, a debt that needs to be paid.
At first, I had no idea what it was she was trying to tell me. I was so cut off from my feelings (and my own body) that I could not listen to them, nor honor them. When I went down to the Colin Ross trauma unit in Dallas a few years ago, I was shocked and dismayed to be given a handout of "feeling words" that contained columns of emotion descriptions that I didn't even know were feelings! Now, I'm a writer and I consider myself to have a pretty strong vocabulary, but I just stared at these words at first; they meant nothing to me on any personal level.
But, the folks at the Ross program have their ways. They gave us patients hand-outs with exercises to complete as homework. And, boy, did these get the feelings going! In fact, I had to work with my assigned therapist there to come up with ways that I could pace myself, instead of being completely flooded with the new-found feelings.
If there's anything I've found that helps get in touch with that sometimes-illusive inner child it is FEEL THE FEELINGS! I recommend that you work with a qualified, experienced therapist in order to succeed at this without re-traumatizing yourself.
But, what I really want to talk about here is how to comfort your inner child. If you're like me and you never had any healthy bonding or attachment with your biological mother, there may be some real re-parenting that needs to happen to help your healing.
Some comforting strategies that I've found helpful are easy to do, quite generic and would probably work for most people. I've got an antique rocking chair that I drug out from the basement and positioned prominently in a cozy little reading nook I have in my home. I have an amazingly soft throw blanket that's stationed on the back of the rocker for soothing and warmth. Simply wrapping myself in the soft throw and rocking away works wonders some days. In the summertime, I find the same joy and sweet soothing on my porch swing.
Most folks I've consulted talk about "stuffies," stuffed animals that they find helpful. Now, I find that I'm a little shy about walking around dragging a beloved, raggedy stuffy with me. And most of the stuffed animals I've bought for myself as an adult have ended up being "adopted" by my own son. But, what I have done is reclaimed some of these cushy animals and I've recently given them an honored spot in a beautiful, old baby buggy I found at an antique doll shop. For everyday snuggling and comfort, I keep a small, spotted cat in my bedside drawer. After my husband awakes and exits the bed (he's an early riser), I'll get out my kitty and snuggle with it on days that I feel my inner children need some comfort. This is especially helpful if I've had a night that consisted of any flashbacks, night fears or nightmares.
If you spend some time thinking about how attached many kids get to their beloved stuffed animals, it can give you some hints for other ways of comforting your inner child. Just think of anything that you always wanted as a child. What were some of the things you asked Santa to bring you for Christmas? Remember how the adults in the movie, The Santa Clause, always wanted a "Dream Date" game and an Oscar Mayer wiener whistle?
Now, you don't have to wait for Santa. Go out and get yourself something kid-like that you always dreamed of when you were little. For me, it was a dollhouse. This was something I always wanted and never got when I was little. So, guess what I did? I went to the craft store and purchased an easy-assembly doll house kit and put it together and painted it. Over the past two years, I've been having a ball buying little miniature furniture pieces, potted plants, kitchen items and tiny porcelain dolls for my inner child's doll house. It's a splurge, but it's fun and my inner child is worth it and she deserves it!
Little inner child comforts, treats and pamperings don't have to cost a fortune. They can be easy to come by, but full of rewards. How 'bout getting some colorful sprinkles on that sundae the next time you treat yourself at the ice cream parlor? Why not read yourself a bedtime story while you sit in that rocking chair? Remember the lullaby songs you sang to your child when he or she was an infant? Singing them to your own inner child can be amazingly soothing when your feelings get hurt or you feel wounded or scared in some other way.
Why not buy your inner child some coloring books and some crayons? If you feel embarrassed in the check-out lane, you can always say you're buying these child-like items for a baby shower, child or grandchild. Heck, most people won't even ask, so there's no need to tell. Some friends and neighbors have given me a few curious looks about my doll house, but I just explain that it's a hobby, a creative outlet and--with some trusted others--a gift to my inner child. I've always gotten a smile and a knowing nod or look at the latter explanation.
Comfort food is a whole other category. Why do you think they call it comfort food any way? Maybe because it comforts your inner child! While I love a home-cooked meal of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, I have to be careful with comfort food, because I can have a tendency to binge and to gain too much weight. But, I've found that the simplest little things can qualify as comforting in the food category. Remember those sprinkles I spoke of earlier? I bought myself a little jar of them off the shelf in the baking goods aisle of the grocery store and I give myself a shake of them on a little dip of ice cream now and then. I also like whipped cream for a little treat that tells my inner child, "you're special, you're adorable and I love you." Try a little on your coffee in the morning for a quick, inner child pick-me-up. For a totally low fat comforter, hot herbal tea does wonders.
Some fragrances are "tasty" and comforting, but aren't taken internally at all. No calories there! I especially like honey vanilla lip balm (you can find these at health food stores) and hand lotion with the fragrance of cherry blossoms.
Every person I've ever met with DID (previously MPD) talks about their "littles," or little child parts or alters. I especially like Buffalopine's idea of carrying a small toy in her pocket to soothe her littles. In this blog post, she talks about carrying a Stuart Little key chain with her for an entire year. What inner child wouldn't like a little mouse friend to keep him company?
Speaking of Stuart Little, I've talked to lots of folks who, like myself, really enjoy the inner child treat of watching children's movies. If you're too shy to walk into a children's, G-rated movie without a kid in tow, you can always rent one to watch in the privacy of your own home.
I'm smiling right now just thinking of all these comforting, fun, playful ideas for my inner child recovery program. I can't wait to get off the computer and put some of these ideas into action for my own inner child right away. What would you like to do today to comfort and please your inner child? Don't wait! Get up and do some little thing for your little self right now. And leave me a comment with your favorite inner child comforts, play-date ideas and treats and we'll compile and even bigger list!
Labels: abuse, alters, attachment, bonding, child abuse, child parts, DID, dissociation, inner child, PTSD
January 28, 2008
My Legacy of Shame--Thanks, Mom!
I've just finished reading The Trauma Spectrum by Robert Scaer. This book is pretty clinical--not easy to read--as it talks about how trauma changes the brain. I was especially interested in the chapter on preverbal trauma, as I am just working with a part who is almost entirely preverbal herself.
I've really been struggling with my mother's involvement in my childhood abuse. This struggle has been major for me during the last couple of years. Even though my father sexually abused me and my twin in just about every way one could imagine--even though he almost killed me, because he was a psycho, raging maniac--I'm almost tempted to say that his behavior damaged me less than my mother's did.
I've had this prickly, gnawing, suspicious feeling about this for these two years now. Sometimes I can't get my brain around it at all, other times it just seems downright crazy. Then, I started reading about maternal bonding, attachment and attunement. I believe that none of these states were ever achieved between my mother and my infant self. I am absolutely convinced of this. Then, Scaer talks in his book about "the influence of maternal behavior and bonding on the ability of the developing infant to achieve optimal states of self-regulation in the face of arousal in later life."
I was set up! Almost from the moment of my birth, I was groomed to be traumatized and dissociate in the face of my abuse.
One particular book passage really hit me hard. Have you ever heard of the concept of "conservation-withdrawal?" In a healthy family, this is a normal developmental process in which a baby can safely explore, then find a safe place where it can regroup and then go out and explore and gain new experiences again.
Scaer says, "If bonding has been successful, this limit-setting behavior and the infant's withdrawal response will continue to foster the development of the reflex regulatory skills that control the infant's ability to handle arousal and stress in an appropriate, healthy fashion."
Then, there's the classic line, "on the other hand..." There it was on page 121. I had to read it a couple of times. *blink*
When speaking of this concept of conservation-withdrawal, Scaer describes, "During this state, the infant averts its face, hangs its head, and becomes relatively immobile."
Whoa. As I read this, I'm thinking, "I do this now! I always do this!"
Am I an infant? Why do I still do this?
I highlighted this next part, and put a big asterisk next to it. "If maternal/infant misattunement is present, especially in the case of the mother's excessive use of shame-inducing limitations, the infant will begin to retreat more frequently into the state of conservation-withdrawal and may develop lifelong behavioral patterns that mimic this state when stressed."
Oh, I see.
Scaer goes so far as to say, "Conservation-withdrawal is the earliest manifestation of dissociation, which if perpetuated becomes a lifelong tendency in the face of threat or stress." (The emphasis here is mine.) He continues, "In the day-to-day life of the child, repeated retreat into states of shame presents as repetitive dissociative symptoms..."
Yeah. And I would add, in the day-to-day life of the adult abuse survivor, too!
I noticed this happening just the other day. It was over some slight--some slightly disrespectful remark that left me feeling rejected. I immediately looked away, hung my head and slumped away. I don't often allow myself to do this in front of others, but I always, eventually become immobile. I'll go into my bedroom and sit or lie down and then just stare off in a stupor.
I was explaining all this to my T. I remembered a line from a poem I wrote. There was something in there about "my empty, blank stare." I found the poem. Here it is:
Safe in My Pillow
I’m diving into my pillow
It’s the only safe harbor I know
Hidden away in my pillow
The terror and anguish don’t show
I’m becoming a part of my pillow
Like a turtle pulling into its shell
Scratching and clawing for my pillow
You can’t drag me into your hell
And if you take me away from my pillow
You won’t know that I’m really not there
I just send my mind to my pillow
It’s behind my empty, blank stare
I know I can trust in my pillow
How my pillow’s safe comfort warms
Like a soft, warm body, my pillow
I pretend it’s a mother’s loving arms
You’ll never really reach me in my pillow
Though my body you’ll batter and harm
This little girl’s all nestled in her pillow
While outside rages the storm
I’ll just stay here, thank you, in my pillow
You can all just call me insane
It’s my own little world, my pillow
While out in your world a nightmare reigns
Years fly by while I fly in my pillow
It starts to feel lonely and cold
I peek out from under my pillow
How did I get to be so old?
You say I must venture from my pillow
I’ve got to come out and face a new world
How can I let go of my pillow?
Can’t you see I’m still a scared little girl?
Copyright 2003 Marj McCabe ~ All Rights Reserved
The funny thing is, my stare isn't blank or empty at all. It's full of shame.
I have a legacy of shame. It seems, no matter how much therapy I do, it is always with me. It's the shame of believing to my core that I am not worth existing, not worth being alive. Logic tells me this is not right. But, I don't believe it.
One of the first self-help books I ever read--back before I even knew I was an incest survivor--was John Bradshaw's Healing The Shame That Binds You. Wow. That book was published back in 1988. Maybe I need to go back and read it again.
I've really been struggling with my mother's involvement in my childhood abuse. This struggle has been major for me during the last couple of years. Even though my father sexually abused me and my twin in just about every way one could imagine--even though he almost killed me, because he was a psycho, raging maniac--I'm almost tempted to say that his behavior damaged me less than my mother's did.
I've had this prickly, gnawing, suspicious feeling about this for these two years now. Sometimes I can't get my brain around it at all, other times it just seems downright crazy. Then, I started reading about maternal bonding, attachment and attunement. I believe that none of these states were ever achieved between my mother and my infant self. I am absolutely convinced of this. Then, Scaer talks in his book about "the influence of maternal behavior and bonding on the ability of the developing infant to achieve optimal states of self-regulation in the face of arousal in later life."
I was set up! Almost from the moment of my birth, I was groomed to be traumatized and dissociate in the face of my abuse.
One particular book passage really hit me hard. Have you ever heard of the concept of "conservation-withdrawal?" In a healthy family, this is a normal developmental process in which a baby can safely explore, then find a safe place where it can regroup and then go out and explore and gain new experiences again.
Scaer says, "If bonding has been successful, this limit-setting behavior and the infant's withdrawal response will continue to foster the development of the reflex regulatory skills that control the infant's ability to handle arousal and stress in an appropriate, healthy fashion."
Then, there's the classic line, "on the other hand..." There it was on page 121. I had to read it a couple of times. *blink*
When speaking of this concept of conservation-withdrawal, Scaer describes, "During this state, the infant averts its face, hangs its head, and becomes relatively immobile."
Whoa. As I read this, I'm thinking, "I do this now! I always do this!"
Am I an infant? Why do I still do this?
I highlighted this next part, and put a big asterisk next to it. "If maternal/infant misattunement is present, especially in the case of the mother's excessive use of shame-inducing limitations, the infant will begin to retreat more frequently into the state of conservation-withdrawal and may develop lifelong behavioral patterns that mimic this state when stressed."
Oh, I see.
Scaer goes so far as to say, "Conservation-withdrawal is the earliest manifestation of dissociation, which if perpetuated becomes a lifelong tendency in the face of threat or stress." (The emphasis here is mine.) He continues, "In the day-to-day life of the child, repeated retreat into states of shame presents as repetitive dissociative symptoms..."
Yeah. And I would add, in the day-to-day life of the adult abuse survivor, too!
I noticed this happening just the other day. It was over some slight--some slightly disrespectful remark that left me feeling rejected. I immediately looked away, hung my head and slumped away. I don't often allow myself to do this in front of others, but I always, eventually become immobile. I'll go into my bedroom and sit or lie down and then just stare off in a stupor.
I was explaining all this to my T. I remembered a line from a poem I wrote. There was something in there about "my empty, blank stare." I found the poem. Here it is:
Safe in My Pillow
I’m diving into my pillow
It’s the only safe harbor I know
Hidden away in my pillow
The terror and anguish don’t show
I’m becoming a part of my pillow
Like a turtle pulling into its shell
Scratching and clawing for my pillow
You can’t drag me into your hell
And if you take me away from my pillow
You won’t know that I’m really not there
I just send my mind to my pillow
It’s behind my empty, blank stare
I know I can trust in my pillow
How my pillow’s safe comfort warms
Like a soft, warm body, my pillow
I pretend it’s a mother’s loving arms
You’ll never really reach me in my pillow
Though my body you’ll batter and harm
This little girl’s all nestled in her pillow
While outside rages the storm
I’ll just stay here, thank you, in my pillow
You can all just call me insane
It’s my own little world, my pillow
While out in your world a nightmare reigns
Years fly by while I fly in my pillow
It starts to feel lonely and cold
I peek out from under my pillow
How did I get to be so old?
You say I must venture from my pillow
I’ve got to come out and face a new world
How can I let go of my pillow?
Can’t you see I’m still a scared little girl?
Copyright 2003 Marj McCabe ~ All Rights Reserved
The funny thing is, my stare isn't blank or empty at all. It's full of shame.
I have a legacy of shame. It seems, no matter how much therapy I do, it is always with me. It's the shame of believing to my core that I am not worth existing, not worth being alive. Logic tells me this is not right. But, I don't believe it.
One of the first self-help books I ever read--back before I even knew I was an incest survivor--was John Bradshaw's Healing The Shame That Binds You. Wow. That book was published back in 1988. Maybe I need to go back and read it again.
Labels: attachment, bonding, dissociation, John Bradshaw, poem, Poetry, Robert Scaer, self-help books, self-worth, shame, therapy, trauma
August 08, 2007
Reparenting and Attachment
I have sunk into a really sticky, dark trauma spot that needs to be processed. Unfortunately, I'm in limbo-land until I can get more private alone time. This won't happen until a week from Thursday, when my son starts back at school.
I asked my T, "Can't I just keep rocking the baby? That was so much more enjoyable." The "rocking-the-baby" I referred to is a reparenting/attachment exercise I've been working on with my T. I'm hopeful and optimistic that it is possible for me to reparent my wounded inner child parts. Up until now, however, I haven't done any of this work for myself before the age of three.
I'm convinced that I never experienced any healthy attachment or bonding with my mother. I believe I bonded with my twin, but not to the woman who birthed me.
You see, my mother had already tried to leave my psycho father when my older brother was just a baby. A neighbor, who was spying on my parents at the request of my maternal grandfather, had witnessed my infant brother flying out the front door of his house, at the hands of my father. Luckily, he landed on the grass in the front yard and received few injuries. But, that was enough for my mother to leave my father. I guess the woman did have motherly-type protection instincts, at least at one point (maybe just for male babies, I don't know).
The way she always told the continuation of this story is like this: So, she moves back in with her parents, away from the psycho child abuser. But, then--as if punished by God or Satan--she finds out she's pregnant again. To add insult to injury, she's pregnant with twins. She's still in the town where my grandparents lived when she gives birth to me and my sister. My father did not come to the hospital to visit my mother or us.
Then, for some mysterious reason (Christian-induced "family" obligation, to get away from my over-bearing grandfather, who knows), my mother reunites with my father. She then proceeds to move six hours away from everyone she knows to set up house in a new state with my father for his new teaching job. Now she's stuck, alone with no support, in a new state with three kids in diapers. And the daily house-of-horrors abuse scenario mushroomed from there. It took this woman almost eight more years to finally divorce the monster who was my father. My theory is that it took physical abuse directed at her to finally get her to take action. I don't think it had anything to do with his abuse of us kids. She allowed him full visitation rights as part of the divorce--never fought it or questioned it as far as I know.
Anyway, it seems obvious to me that I never bonded with this woman. There was no healthy attachment that took place. Part of the challenge, I'm sure, was the fact that we babies were twins. There were two of us and we were huge. We each weighed in at over eight pounds at birth. Shouldn't that be in the record books somewhere? Almost seventeen pounds of baby! Yowzer! My mother always blamed us for the "fact" that she just couldn't lose weight after that. Hhhmmmm, I don't think you can logically blame 300 pounds of obesity on "baby weight."
We were an unwanted, unplanned birth...and there were two of us! My mother always acted like we were some kind of cosmic "double-whammy" punishment and curse.
One of the goals with my reparenting is to convince my child parts that, unlike my birth mother, this mother (me) believes children are a blessing. Children are adorable, precious treasures who are to be cherished, protected and loved.
So, I bought myself a doll. It represents the infant me. I rock her and I sing to her. These are the words I wish someone had said or sung to me after I was born. These are the words I comfort myself with as I attempt to reparent my infant self:
You're my beautiful baby girl
You're an angel in this world
You're adorable
My beautiful baby girl
I asked my T, "Can't I just keep rocking the baby? That was so much more enjoyable." The "rocking-the-baby" I referred to is a reparenting/attachment exercise I've been working on with my T. I'm hopeful and optimistic that it is possible for me to reparent my wounded inner child parts. Up until now, however, I haven't done any of this work for myself before the age of three.
I'm convinced that I never experienced any healthy attachment or bonding with my mother. I believe I bonded with my twin, but not to the woman who birthed me.
You see, my mother had already tried to leave my psycho father when my older brother was just a baby. A neighbor, who was spying on my parents at the request of my maternal grandfather, had witnessed my infant brother flying out the front door of his house, at the hands of my father. Luckily, he landed on the grass in the front yard and received few injuries. But, that was enough for my mother to leave my father. I guess the woman did have motherly-type protection instincts, at least at one point (maybe just for male babies, I don't know).
The way she always told the continuation of this story is like this: So, she moves back in with her parents, away from the psycho child abuser. But, then--as if punished by God or Satan--she finds out she's pregnant again. To add insult to injury, she's pregnant with twins. She's still in the town where my grandparents lived when she gives birth to me and my sister. My father did not come to the hospital to visit my mother or us.
Then, for some mysterious reason (Christian-induced "family" obligation, to get away from my over-bearing grandfather, who knows), my mother reunites with my father. She then proceeds to move six hours away from everyone she knows to set up house in a new state with my father for his new teaching job. Now she's stuck, alone with no support, in a new state with three kids in diapers. And the daily house-of-horrors abuse scenario mushroomed from there. It took this woman almost eight more years to finally divorce the monster who was my father. My theory is that it took physical abuse directed at her to finally get her to take action. I don't think it had anything to do with his abuse of us kids. She allowed him full visitation rights as part of the divorce--never fought it or questioned it as far as I know.
Anyway, it seems obvious to me that I never bonded with this woman. There was no healthy attachment that took place. Part of the challenge, I'm sure, was the fact that we babies were twins. There were two of us and we were huge. We each weighed in at over eight pounds at birth. Shouldn't that be in the record books somewhere? Almost seventeen pounds of baby! Yowzer! My mother always blamed us for the "fact" that she just couldn't lose weight after that. Hhhmmmm, I don't think you can logically blame 300 pounds of obesity on "baby weight."
We were an unwanted, unplanned birth...and there were two of us! My mother always acted like we were some kind of cosmic "double-whammy" punishment and curse.
One of the goals with my reparenting is to convince my child parts that, unlike my birth mother, this mother (me) believes children are a blessing. Children are adorable, precious treasures who are to be cherished, protected and loved.
So, I bought myself a doll. It represents the infant me. I rock her and I sing to her. These are the words I wish someone had said or sung to me after I was born. These are the words I comfort myself with as I attempt to reparent my infant self:
You're my beautiful baby girl
You're an angel in this world
You're adorable
My beautiful baby girl
Labels: attachment, bonding, child abuse, re-parenting, recovery, therapy
