Thursday, October 27, 2011


Before I begin each of my blog entries, I say a prayer and ask for guidance on what to write.  Today before I finished my prayer "broken" was so strong in my mind that I knew that it was time to address this topic.  As I have mentioned in the past I have been working on what I call my "therapy boxes."  In my blog entry "Hiding" I addressed one of the them.  "Broken" is another one of my boxes.  I have quite a few "broken" things addressed in this box, but I'm only going to write about the ones that made the biggest impact on my life.

When I was around the age of 12 my sisters and I were all sitting in the living room watching tv.  My mom came in and started yelling then picked up the tv and threw it.  I remember quickly getting my sisters out the front door telling them to go down to the neighbor's house.  I went back through the house looking for my mom.  I found her sitting on the kitchen floor crying and surrounded by broken dishes.  There I was standing in the kitchen doorway looking at broken dishes and a broken mom and I broke.  It wasn't until over 30 years later that I would realize what a defining moment this was for me in my life.  As I stepped through that doorway to help my mom I left the 12 year old behind and a grown-up walked through.  Luckily for my mom and most of my sisters they don't really remember that day.  But I remembered and my older sister remembered, but we never talked about it.  I never had an opportunity to deal with how I felt that day until I started talk therapy. 

Around this same time I had another "broken" experience, but this one was physical.  I was at gymnastics and a bunch of us older girls were alone in the gym jumping on the trampoline.  I was doing a triple back somersault and on the last one I didn't throw my arms enough and ended up coming down half-way through the flip landing on my face with my neck bent and my body on the wrong side of my head before it flopped to where it should have been.  I don't remember much after the initial impact, it was just black.  Then I felt movement on the trampoline as one of my classmates walked over to me, she poked me and then ran away screaming.  They thought I was dead (in fact, they called me "rubber neck" for a long time after this accident).  I lay there not moving, not breathing.  Then finally I could feel my body start to work again as I began gasping for breath.  Little by little I began breathing again.  Eventually I crawled off the trampoline and just sat on the side.  I don't remember much else after that.  I probably should have gone to the doctor, but I didn't.  I don't think I realized then what a bad fall that was.  I didn't even tell my parents about it.  It wasn't until recently working with my Cranial Sacral Therapist that I was able to work through this experience and finally deal with both the emotional and physical pain of that moment.

This last experience I'm going to mention happened just a few years ago after starting therapy, after realizing that I was co-dependent.  I wanted to figure out when the co-dependency started.  I finally realized that it was the day in the kitchen doorway.  I walked through that door as a co-dependent person and I left my 12 year old self behind.  This thought devastated me, if I left myself behind at the moment, who was I?  Had I just become a co-dependent robot?  I left myself behind over 30 years ago and I didn't know who I was.  It is hard to describe what happened to me with these thoughts, it was the deepest, darkest moment of my life.  I honestly didn't know who I was.  I spent almost a week in this black hole trying to get out and hide it from my family.  Strangely enough it was a moment in the grocery store that helped me to begin seeing some light.

I was pretty much on auto-pilot as I went through that week.  At one point I had to go and pick up a prescription for my son.  The attendant at the counter said that they didn't have what I needed and she asked me what I wanted to do.  I honestly didn't know, I just stood there and looked at her and said, "I don't know."  She made some phone calls and helped me to find what I needed at another pharmacy.  I really didn't understand what had happened, I was usually the "adult" and could handle anything, but at that moment I really didn't know what to do.  As I thought about it, an idea started to form, so I called my parents (I really have to give my parents a huge thank you here because they have really done everything they can to help me heal) to talk to them about it.  I asked my dad if it was possible that the "I don't know" moment I experienced in the store could have been my 12 year old self that I thought I had left behind in the kitchen doorway and he said yes.  At that moment the darkness of the past week started to lift and I realized that I had always been me, the 12 year old me was still inside.  I was still all of me, I just had been denying my feelings and emotions for years.  I know now when I can't seem to make a decision, when I just "don't know," it is the 12 year old in me that is frightened and unsure and I just need to embrace that feeling instead of burying it deep inside, then assure myself that everything is okay and to trust myself, I do know what to do.

It has taken years of various forms of therapy and finally addressing all my emotions to not feel "broken" and what a feeling it is to feel whole and complete.  It is amazing to feel and acknowledge all of me, it feels light and bright and wonderful!

1 comment:

  1. It is interesting to hear how your early life experiences have affected your life. Even 30 years later your are still learning things. Amazing! Our oldest daughter is really struggling through a difficult time with depression and anxiety and it is good to read about what you have learned. Thanks for sharing!


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