From my journal for November 28, 1995<\/p>\n
Well, let\u2019s see if she is here, that sullen angry hurt child.\u00a0 <\/span>I have a hit of her age as being 8 or 9, and of Mother as a hurt angry sullen child herself.\u00a0 <\/span>I can feel her presence, but she\u2019s not ready or not willing to talk.\u00a0 <\/span>She doesn\u2019t want to have anything to do with grown-ups, or with grown-up advice, or with grown-up value systems.\u00a0 <\/span>This sounds like someone who\u2019s had unreasonable expectations laid on her, to be mature beyond her state of development, to be mature without having grown organically through the earlier stages, and then was given no support for this enormous stretch, or praise when she accomplished it.\u00a0 <\/span>No wonder she\u2019s hurt and angry.\u00a0 <\/span>Well, I\u2019m here to listen.\u00a0 <\/span>Here\u2019s the pen if you want to say something.<\/p>\n
You\u2019re a fine one to give me the pen.\u00a0 <\/span>You don\u2019t want to hear about what it\u2019s been like to be me.\u00a0 <\/span>I feel silenced, patronized, condescended to.\u00a0 <\/span>I can\u2019t express my anger in fine words, or coherent statements, and you devalue it as childish, as being about trivial things.<\/p>\n
What am I angry about?\u00a0 <\/span>I don\u2019t know, I don\u2019t know \u2014 \u00a0 <\/span>I\u2019m angry at feeling trapped in some goody-goody bourgeois room that\u2019s narrow and full of little knick knacks and when I try to swing my arms to make room to breathe I knock something over and get told I\u2019m being rude and I have a vague sense, or maybe it\u2019s just a hope, because this place is so painful and tight and stuffy and boring, I hope that there\u2019s another world out there, a bigger world, with room to move and breathe and beautiful things that would satisfy my heart and beings that I could talk to \u2014 but you tell me that\u2019s just a fantasy, unrealistic.\u00a0 <\/span>And so I make myself wrong for my hope, and try to fit in among the dusty artifacts, and try to nourish myself on fantasies that are limited because there\u2019s nothing outside me to feed them.\u00a0 <\/span>And now I find that there is a world out there, a would of mountains and trees, a world of artists and musicians and dancers, and you never told me about it, or helped me develop the skills I need to be able to function in that world.\u00a0 <\/span>That\u2019s why I\u2019m angry.<\/p>\n
And I have liked working on the costume for the \u201cLady from the Black Lagoon,\u201d and I thank you for that.<\/p>\n
O, my dear, I\u2019m so glad you were able to tell me about what it\u2019s been like for you, and I don\u2019t blame you for being angry at me and distrusting me, and I\u2019m trying to find more ways to find nourishment from the \u201coutside\u201d and to support you in creative expression.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
November 29<\/p>\n
Woke at six, feeling rested and grateful to be feeling better.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
I have to say I’m blown away by this conversation. This is work with “parts” long before I started doing it with my therapist. I wish I remembered the “Lady from the Black Lagoon.” Although she doesn’t say it directly, I think she doesn’t want to have anything to do with adults because Mom & Dad were so unhelpful. I love her description of a “goody-goody bourgeois room that\u2019s narrow.” It doesn’t describe the house I grew up in so much as the emotional tone of my parents’ lives.<\/p>\n
I think this 8-yr-old is the same as, or similar to the obstreperous child I wrote about in the last post. Looks like I need to let her be both angry and grieve. Or maybe I’m the one who needs to grieve because I never let her out in my life. No, that’s not true. \u00a0After I had been doing Somatic Experiencing for a while, I got one of those emails about calling your congressperson to complain about something. \u00a0I wanted to do it, and instead of being immobilized by my anger, I was able to go to the phone and make the call. I was so pleased.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
From my journal for November 28, 1995 Well, let\u2019s see if she is here, that sullen angry hurt child.\u00a0 I have a hit of her age as being 8 or 9, and of Mother as a hurt angry sullen child … Continue reading