Saturday, July 12, 2014
This morning, as I rode into Minneapolis on the bus, I observed a little girl with her mother sitting near the front of the bus. The girl squealed with delight when a two-tier transport truck loaded up with cars passed by the bus. You could sense her delight and sense of wonder. I also sensed that she felt very safe. Her mother was very good at interacting with her daughter and performing what you might call 'teachable moments'.
Play and discovery are vital to the healthy development of a person's imagination. But play and discovery cannot take place in a consistent way in an environment constantly threatened with instability and chaos. To be able to play in a lighthearted and engaged way one must not be overly preoccupied with overwhelming matters day in and day out.
I have been realizing lately that I didn't really experience the joy of discovery in a consistent way when I was a child. Yes, there were some highlights and lighthearted moments. But they were often moments or no more than short periods. These moments of joy and delight were interspersed with excess drama and confusion. I have been further realizing that my tendency to stay at home a little too much during the years of my adolescence was a way I adapted to my circumstances. I actually had this ongoing fear that I would come home and find some new horror due to a poor decision my father had made. I was so distrusting of his capacity to cultivate healthy relationships that by the time his third marriage began I was deeply mistrustful. In some strange way I made this unconscious decision that it was in my best interest to hang out at home a lot. In sticking close to home I could theoretically protect myself better...as well as my father. And yet it should not be the responsibility of a child to care for a parent. That is a complete reversal of the proper relationship that should exist between an adult parent and a child.
In some sense I did not experience some of the essentials of childhood as would have been ideal. I did not have sufficient safety to feel carefree and engage in the 'joy of discovery' as I was able to witness this morning while on the bus. And so I sit with this question now as well: How can I honor that child I was who didn't get this basic need met? What can I do about it now?
Not all discoveries bring joy. The unexpected developments of our lives can bring us our greatest gifts and our harshest challenges. I suspect that a person's general openness to the unexpected is probably very much related to their life history and how much joy and how much pain have come as a result of the intrusion of the unexpected.
......
It's been a year since my discovery that I had still more healing to do. It's going fairly well...especially considering that I have received very minimal support from my paternal family of origin. I sometimes feel I am being a bit obsessive when I enumerate the days from the summer of 1982 that I cannot consciously remember now. By no means do I think I should be able to access happy memories from all the days (or even a large majority of days) I have lived thus far. The mundane demands of living are a fundamental piece of life for most people. Many aspects of life are often not exciting. And yet the grief still weighs upon me deeply.
Adjusting to a new, normal life after having an anxiety disorder for so many years is not something I suspect most people can do in a short period of time. It simply takes time. And perhaps I still have a lot of time left in my life. I would like to think so. There is so much that I want to do now.
This morning, as I rode into Minneapolis on the bus, I observed a little girl with her mother sitting near the front of the bus. The girl squealed with delight when a two-tier transport truck loaded up with cars passed by the bus. You could sense her delight and sense of wonder. I also sensed that she felt very safe. Her mother was very good at interacting with her daughter and performing what you might call 'teachable moments'.
Play and discovery are vital to the healthy development of a person's imagination. But play and discovery cannot take place in a consistent way in an environment constantly threatened with instability and chaos. To be able to play in a lighthearted and engaged way one must not be overly preoccupied with overwhelming matters day in and day out.
I have been realizing lately that I didn't really experience the joy of discovery in a consistent way when I was a child. Yes, there were some highlights and lighthearted moments. But they were often moments or no more than short periods. These moments of joy and delight were interspersed with excess drama and confusion. I have been further realizing that my tendency to stay at home a little too much during the years of my adolescence was a way I adapted to my circumstances. I actually had this ongoing fear that I would come home and find some new horror due to a poor decision my father had made. I was so distrusting of his capacity to cultivate healthy relationships that by the time his third marriage began I was deeply mistrustful. In some strange way I made this unconscious decision that it was in my best interest to hang out at home a lot. In sticking close to home I could theoretically protect myself better...as well as my father. And yet it should not be the responsibility of a child to care for a parent. That is a complete reversal of the proper relationship that should exist between an adult parent and a child.
In some sense I did not experience some of the essentials of childhood as would have been ideal. I did not have sufficient safety to feel carefree and engage in the 'joy of discovery' as I was able to witness this morning while on the bus. And so I sit with this question now as well: How can I honor that child I was who didn't get this basic need met? What can I do about it now?
Not all discoveries bring joy. The unexpected developments of our lives can bring us our greatest gifts and our harshest challenges. I suspect that a person's general openness to the unexpected is probably very much related to their life history and how much joy and how much pain have come as a result of the intrusion of the unexpected.
......
It's been a year since my discovery that I had still more healing to do. It's going fairly well...especially considering that I have received very minimal support from my paternal family of origin. I sometimes feel I am being a bit obsessive when I enumerate the days from the summer of 1982 that I cannot consciously remember now. By no means do I think I should be able to access happy memories from all the days (or even a large majority of days) I have lived thus far. The mundane demands of living are a fundamental piece of life for most people. Many aspects of life are often not exciting. And yet the grief still weighs upon me deeply.
Adjusting to a new, normal life after having an anxiety disorder for so many years is not something I suspect most people can do in a short period of time. It simply takes time. And perhaps I still have a lot of time left in my life. I would like to think so. There is so much that I want to do now.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I invite you to accompany me as I document my own journey of healing. My blog is designed to offer inspiration and solace to others. If you find it of value I welcome you to share it with others. Aloha!