From my journal for June 16, 1996
I’m playing Darrone because if I think of this as a battle, as a shamanic ordeal, then it’s easier to do. Otherwise I think of myself as a hypersensitive coward who freaks out at stuff that most people don’t even notice. I’ve got the earphones on my head, because I get so little warning, but not in my ears because it’s painful.
Darrone is a warrior’s dance from Armenia.
Bottom lines:
(1) My hearing shows a distorted pattern.
The AIT is designed to correct that pattern.
We don’t know what the results will be for my mental health.(2) It’s OK to be scared, it’s OK to not know.
It’s OK to be not quite here.(3) Personal feelings are of no consequence. I’m working to build a more robust personality for the next incarnation.
I was wondering about my difficulty being relaxed and comfortable, my difficulty taking in good things in my life, good things that I had created. I think when in my childhood did I feel safe enough to take in good things from my environment, how often was enjoyment snatched away — by mother’s jealousy? that wouldn’t let me have anything of my own? by unpredictable alcoholic parents whose reactions had nothing to do with what was going on for me? I think about events when I learned that it wasn’t safe to feel comfortable with what I had: Dad helping me learn to ride a bicycle and letting go of me before I had confidence in my own abilities, laughing at the horrified look on my face. I think of Mom, that day on the porch when I was glad she had something to interest her, and she turned to me with that vicious remark and cut me to ribbons. I wonder how often she did that to me in my childhood when I had some look on my face, expressive of comfort? relaxation? that she interpreted as complacency? disinterest? ?? I’ve no idea.
Later I realized that the only thing that would have satisfied mother would have been if I had become a Colonial Dame.
O yes, I was thinking about what reason did I have to expect that happiness would be snatched from my grasp, and I think about my twelve years training in this house, for four months in the summer, that it wasn’t possible to be relaxed for more than a few hours before the snarl of a plane would come slamming in and catapult me into severe depression. So many times when I had relaxed — It’s cloudy now, or it’s late in the day, surely they won’t fly again — and bam! one comes out of nowhere. So I learned that it’s not safe to relax, I have to be always on edge, always defended, always prepared to defend myself against invasion, invalidation, and humiliation. Well that does sound like my childhood doesn’t it? This thing with the planes is just recreating it.