I usually type up my journal a month later. Yesterday I typed this. One of the things I’ve been learning in the work with Erica is how deep the trauma goes. This description of feeling so alone and disconnected is pretty much how I felt as a baby when my mother left me alone for too long.
from my journal for October 10
Read over the notes I made from the phone session with Erica. I was very upset, not feeling connected to her. I cried and cried, sometimes in a very high voice. I said “Someone is supposed to come!” Erica kept being soothing and reasonable. “I’m here with you… stay with the feeling… how do you know that you are disconnected?” I hated that she was reasonable. She sounded detached. Didn’t she care? My heart was heavy and my belly empty of hope. Looking back, I can see that I was feeling grief and despair and anger. I started hitting my leg. She suggested I hug a pillow. That seemed so stupid, so artificial. But I figured “What have I got to lose?” So I got the pillow. It helped a little. She asked about the doll I had made, would it help to hug her? No, she doesn’t need comforting. Then I thought of the little dog I got at the silent auction. He’s a beanie baby so he’s a little squishy, and his expression is one of longing. Very easy to want to comfort him. I think it must have been at that point that I switched from upset baby to comforter. I wanted to write, but I needed to hold the phone and the puppy. Erica suggested I put him inside my shirt so I did, and that felt good. Comforting for both of us. I think of Mother using me to comfort herself because Dad was away. At some point I began to feel my whole body. “How does that feel?” I feel my skin — my whole skin — and then I feel myself filling it. I finally stopped crying/ screaming/ whimpering. I felt totally drained. Erica said something about a big wave, but I didn’t feel like something came to a natural end, just that I had got too tired and despairing to keep crying.
Song in my mind:
“after all the tears are finally cried
and I am finally clean inside
the gentle winds will come and they will dry my mind…
and all that will be left for me to do is die.”
When I find a song in my mind, I look for the message. I had to look up the exact words. They are from Pandora’s Golden Heebie Jeebies, a song from 1966.
Just as Erica and I were getting ready to hang up, I heard the call waiting sound, and after we hung up the phone started ringing and it was Christine. I was so glad she called. I cried for help and somebody answered.