Learning Resilience

Woke up scared.  Still feeling a little activated, a kind of buzzing in my stomach.  I’m sure part of it was that I took Mocha to the vet, and she had two vaccinations: distemper and Lyme.  Yesterday she was very lethargic and not at all interested in food, which they said was likely, but it really made me feel scared.  The other thing was I emailed my realtor yesterday saying I was ready to sell the house and she called back so we talked about it.

I don’t like being activated.  It’s very uncomfortable.  I asked myself what I’m afraid of.  Mostly afraid of making a mistake.  Behind the fear of making a mistake is the fear that I will be thrown out and not be taken care of.  This fear is from when I was an infant left alone and afraid no one would ever come and that would mean I would die.  As a baby, I didn’t have those words, just a feeling of desperation and that I had done something “wrong” — I had no idea what — and that something catastrophic was going to happen as a result.  This is trauma, when the reptilian brain stem concludes that you will die.  As a baby, I couldn’t fight or flee, so my system would have gone into default mode, that is, freeze.

I had to sit myself down and remind me that in the long run there is no catastrophic mistake I can make.  How much money I eventually get for the house doesn’t matter.  I’m taken care of, here at Kendal, until I die.  Writing it down I feel a level of comfort I didn’t feel when I was trying to convince myself.  It’s true, I am taken care of.  It’s really amazing how much that helps.  So much gratitude to the rich people here who make it possible.  I wish I could also believe that I’m held in the hands of god.

It’s too bad, Mocha having a bad reaction to the vaccinations.  I was feeling fairly solid and clear about selling the house, but worry about Mocha “knocked me off my perch.”  Interesting phrase.  The suggestion that I had got “too big for my britches” and needed “taking down.”  That’s all the remains of Mother’s conditioning.  She thought that way — “thinking you’re so great” — I don’t think I’ve ever made that judgement of anyone else, or wanted to bring someone “down.”  I wasn’t thinking I was “great,” I’m not even sure there was any sense of “good for me.”  Just relief at having been able to take a step, a necessary step to clean up unfinished business.

Her conditioning still affects me, part of what happens to a child of an alcoholic, and I can see it and mostly don’t believe it now.  I was also taught to believe that money was more important than my comfort or happiness.  What makes these conditionings very hard to undo is that they happened to a child who was already traumatized and so they could trigger the absolute desperation of PTSD.

To try to help myself, I went back to the most recent time (February 2017) I wrote for guidance.  This is what was said:

Divine Process, please help me.    I am with you all the time, even though you can’t feel my presence.  I love you very much and I feel your pain.  You are doing very well with this extremely hard task.  You are actually healing a very deep and wounded part of yourself.  You are with her as I am with you.  I know you are scared and angry that you are not “getting anywhere.”  It’s not about “getting” somewhere, it’s about being present.  Being present to extreme pain — and the pain that baby feels is intolerable, that’s why she was traumatized — is very difficult.  You are doing well with it.  Keep on as you have begun.  Remember that you are loved and cherished infinitely and forever.
Thank You.

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