17 AH! A NATURAL SENSE OF CENTEREDNESS FEELS SO GOOD!

Having simplified PART 9 AND 10, my mind feels clearly centered.  Peaceful.

How great would it be if complexities, which throw relationships off center, could be retuned as simply as one, two, three ...


Well, in truth—I didn't just zip through that editing process.


First I reconsidered what I'd meant to convey.


Then upon centering my mind on what I'd meant to say, the story line got back on track.


In short I lost control over the direction of the story, because I'd lost control over the direction of my mind.


A mind deep in thought tends to switch tracks and wander off onto tangents.


Knowing that to be classically true, perhaps the good health of our relationships depends upon both people's minds centering on the most pressing problem at hand.  In this way, discussions are less likely to boil over into issues, unresolved from the past.  Unfortunately, deeper issues arise subliminally, and not until both parties are clear as to what 'yesterday's issue' is can today's problems be solved.


And begging your indulgence, this particular tangent is not a tangent at all, because—my main reason for writing this blog is to show you how easily our minds are confused when we switch back and forth between positively focused and defensively focused tracks.  This is especially true when one mind works to track clarity while another clings to denial, as in—there's nothing wrong with me—it's all you.


In order for two heads to be better than one, both brains must stay tuned to the same channel or the underlying power struggle will arise and get the upper hand.


Unfortunately, the mind's ability to stay on track is undermined by emotional static.
A mind that floods with static (anxiety or anger), can't hear what the speaker is clearly stating.  If, during heated moments, two minds ignite simultaneously, step back, it's cannon booming time!


Once clarity is lost, discussions spin dizzily into 'whose on first', and two people end up in a dark, lonely place that neither had meant to go.


Since emotional static attacks the smartest of minds, it seems wise to reclaim one's sense of centeredness as soon as confusion hits.


But here's the rub:  Defensive reactions are autonomic.  So how can we silence our fight/freeze/flee alarms?


If you think time out is just for kids, I hope you'll think again. Time out is meant to clear emotional static out of every person's mind.


Hmmm—I'm feeling an urge to reveal a detail that was not supposed to surface until Annie is grown and raising a family of her own.  When that story unfolds,  Annie will need to solve problems calmly.  And in order to focus her mind on solution seeking clarity , she'll formulate a ...

Three-Step-Sanity-Saving-Problem-solving Plan

As this plan will not shape up in Annie's mind for quite a while, I'll leave you to ponder this thought for today:

Centeredness is key to accepting the sum of one's parts as a whole ...

If centeredness opposes denial, and if Annie is in denial, then some aspect of Annie's self esteem must be in need of repair ...
        

16 WHOOPS! Sorry about that

Upon rereading parts 9 and 10 of BULLY FOR ME, it became apparent that I'd tried to say too much.  So while writing about clarity, I missed the mark.  Once that realization hit, part 9 and 10 were rewritten.  Too bad we don't edit remarks before we open our mouths.  If we made a practice of that, we'd find ourselves in hot water less often.

Thank goodness for the edit menu!

:-)Annie 

15 BULLY FOR ME Part 9 SELF DECEPTION

Unfortunately, I am woman hear me roar was not yet a rallying cry sung round the world.  So though explosive emotion quivered within me from head to toe, the only one who heard me roar...

ENOUGH!

... was me.

That fact leads me to this question:  How tight must tension coil within the mind and body of a child, who, fleeing flames of humiliation, walks into the house and greets her family, with a smile?  I mean think about it:  Once emotional rebellion ignites, where does all that combustible energy go?  Rocks in our heads.


As the child in question couldn't fathom rock cracking, emotional depths, I’ve spent the last few years gathering clues as to what may have silenced portions of my voice which had been seriously distressed.  That quest compelled the adult I've grown to be to visit Walden Pond repeatedly.

The more I learn about the complex workings of my mind, the less apt I am to deceive myself, today.

Though all people internalize emotional reactions to some degree, we often dismiss the distress of others as being over reactive when, in truth, we have no clue as to when a storehouse of negative energy can't help but erupt—spontaneously  (Think camels and last straws or head on collisions loaded with TNT.)


The fact that I'd smiled by day while thrashing and scratching till blood was drawn at night leads me to ask:  Why doth a child dive into denial instead of asking loved ones for help?


Interestingly, the origin of 'this' child's need to dismiss the depths of 'her' distress continues to mystify me.  And knowing the importance of origins, I'll quest, again, because—well—let's consider what Maya Angelou had to say:

I have great respect for the past.  If you don't know where you've come from, you don't know where you're going.  I have respect for the past, but I'm a person of the moment.  I'm here, and I do my best to be completely centered at the place I'm at, then I go forward to the next place.

When I'm seriously confounded and thus less than centered, I ask myself which of my perceptions may be in need of adjustment.  For example:  I'd been both socially respected and well liked early on.  However each time I'd faced rejection on that bus, my self-respect dried up—quick as a snap!  So though I'd perceived myself to be socially secure, my submission to the mean minded bully on that bus suggests otherwise.


As my next story will showcase how layers of insecurity build up, one upon the other, I'm eager to leap ahead.

      
However, before FIRST KISS is ready to roll, BULLY FOR ME needs to wind down.  I mean in addition to showing you how I wiggled out of riding that bus—ever again, I'll reveal that last bitter straw, which made me declare—  

NEVER AGAIN! 

(If not aloud, at least within the dark side of my mind where my blood rushed round and round!) 

14 BULLY FOR ME Part 8 MY EGO'S SELF IMAGE

At this point you might ask:  If denial blocks out reality then why didn't Annie just go deeper into denial?  Well, hindsight suggests that just like everything else, denial exists in degrees.  For example, each time I claimed a seat on the bus, my memory split into two separate parts.

         
Although I recall the cruelty of the bullies, I can’t recall my reactions except for that day when the whole bus of rats and mice had reason to pounce all at once.  Once a tidal wave of pain washed over denial’s wall, I couldn’t hide from the reality of my mortification, anymore.  (In French mort means death.)

         
Up until that day, denial separated my sense of awareness from emotions too overwhelming to understand.  You see each time I'd stuffed myself into that bus, I'd had to stuff much more than pain behind denial’s wall.  In addition to pain—confusion and fear had to be stuffed, as well—because otherwise, I couldn’t recognize myself, at all!


You see, denial is a complex little critter.  On one hand, denial serves to keep self image intact.  On the other hand, denial throws us into a state of confusion.

         
Because my defense system swept all sense of awareness into Denialand, the inexplicable change in my social status continued to confound me.  This conundrum makes me ask:  What might Mother Nature have had in mind?


Well if ...

Denial blocks clarity from recognizing anything that opposes self image.
Then perhaps Mother Nature believes that  people can recover more quickly from confusion than from the agony of humiliation's burning pain.


Thus did my sense of safety take refuge in the Land of Make Believe, where nothing this painful could possibly happen to fun-loving-bright-little me.  (By the way, as denial works it's 'magic' in a myriad of ways, it's not unusual for the exhausted efforts of care takers to be summarily dismissed as no biggie.  It's also not unusual for care takers to be pleasers.  And in order for pleasers to meet this subconscious need to please others, they need to take better care of others than of themselves—until such time as every drop of energy has emptied out.  One reason that pleasers go the extra yard is because for 'some reason' it takes very little to make these people feel guilty.  In fact, all you need to do to scare a pleaser is frown.  More about that later.)

        
Wow!  Once denial takes control over the mind, it’s no wonder that problems worsen rather than resolve!  I mean any attempt to problem solve with a mind that's disconnected from reality will create conversations in which both people believe the other is as crazy as a coot.  And if denial helps us all to move through difficult times, then who's to say which person's sense of clarity is greater than the other?  (By the way, if this seems as confusing as ‘whose on first’ that’s exactly what denial does to our minds.  The subject is that complex.  So complex, in fact, that perhaps it's best if I offer tidbits of information, concerning denial, in taste tests.)
        
You see in order to hide one's fear of the truth, the mind creates a suit of armor, otherwise known as a false sense of pride.  This false sense of pride depends upon this pretense:  Let's shove our problems under the rug and pretend all is well when nothing could be further from the truth.  And the reason I need to pretend that our problems aren't that bad is because your perception of reality scares me half to death!!!
       
This pretense holds up for only so long, because in the absence of clarity, conflicts exacerbate and relationships get crazier by the day.  (And that's especially true of one's relationship with—one self.)

         
When I was blind to my pretense, I could not enlist the help of others, much less take a courageous stance in defense of myself.  All I could do was—bow my head and suppress my confusion by hiding from the truth each time I boarded that bus.


So ride after ride, this self defeating pattern of hiding from reality forced me to swallow fear, fury, humiliation and tongue-tied knots of tension—until that day when, without so much as a hint of warning, the entire gang had reason to open fire on me at once.
         
As every molten molecule of compressed passion exploded forth, a geyser of agony burst out of my core, and having reached this point of no return, reality refused to fade away.  At this point my false sense of pride collapsed, and I heard myself scream—

You're killing me!  ENOUGH!

13 BULLY FOR ME Part 7 UNCLOAKING DENIAL

UNCLOAKING DENIAL IS NO EASY FEAT

Before we'd moved into Dad's dream house, I'd been a natural leader.  And 'knowing' myself as perky, bouncy, and fun, I was shocked at being cast as the bullied, 'new kid'.  So though I was the only girl squished in with a busload of guys, there was no reason to expect my vulnerability to be trounced by a mean-minded passel of pre-teen thugs.  

         
Upon mustering the courage to stuff myself into that sardine tin—four times a week—I’d no clue that my self image kept tying itself into deeply confounded, tight, little knots.  Rather than leaning upon yesterday's budding leadership skills, I learned to fear the herding nature of gang mentality.  And the more I'd shrink into myself, the more ‘left out’ I'd feel.  So, if I’d felt respected and admired in the past, then what made me feel unworthy of self-respect each time I tried to find a seat, where my ego might feel protected from attack?

         
Well, the obvious answer suggests this:  I began to see myself through the beady eyes of THE LORD OF THE FLIES.  I mean how could I see myself otherwise when my full-length mirror reflected the cruel truth of the taunts.  And in addition to ‘hating’ those rats, who'd gnawed my self-confidence to shreds, I’d no respect for the meek and mousy, who'd failed to speak up in my defense.

         
However here’s a piece of the puzzle that spotlights my greatest vulnerability:  I'd failed see that no one had let me down as much as I had myself.  I mean if being 'ungainly' did not render me defenseless when others were in need of help, then what caused me to feel so insecure when the indignity of being publicly shamed had targeted—ME?  In short, I'd no clue that: 

My pattern of submitting to denial empowered tyranny to prolong my misery.

Bottom line:  If I’d had the inner strength to stand up to gang mentality in defense of the underdog before our move, then what stopped MY VOICE from turning the tides when the bully's taunts rallied his troops to smite my sense of self?  Well, since that puzzle piece still remains vague inside my mind, you may feel relieved to know at least this much:


One day the bullying loomed so large that my ire rose up just as high.  You see, on this day, something utterly unexpected flew in from out of the blue!  And as this unexpected 'something' ignited an explosion of raucous laughter throughout the bus, my cloak of denial could not withstand the engulfing flames of humiliation that burned so deep into my core that every ridiculed atom of energy inside me screamed clearly with pain—finally! 

12 BULLY FOR ME Part 7 BRAIN FREEZE

12 BULLY FOR ME Part 7 BRAIN FREEZE
Hmmm.  I sat down to write and was surprised to find those childhood Furies controling my mind.  And here’s how I know that’s true:  I sat down to write several times.  And each time, anxiety arose.


As a result of anxiety, my brain froze; my memory locked, and every attempt to force my mind to cooperate made my head ache.  In short, nothing came out except—resistance and PAIN!

         
It's as though a little voice, residing inside my subconscious, said:  STOP—there's no sense forcing those Furies out prematurely, because for 'some' reason you're not yet ready to reveal (relive?) this part of your past—at least not yet.   

         
So rather than pushing into yesterday's pain, as I’d have done in the past, I'll listen to instinct's attempt to say:  Relax, Annie—with patience that painful memory will emerge from its deep freeze on it's own.  And when readiness is yours, that memory will reveal itself without the pain you fear, right now.
        
As this little voice of instinct makes sense, I've put that irretrievable memory to rest.  And in lieu of anxiety, I'm writing, again, with a sense of repose.


In short, I’ve come to accept this as fact:  There are times when the instinctive side of my brain sends out a (cautionary) signal before my thought processor has had time to identify the reason for subconsicous unrest.

         
Bottom line:  The more I delve into the complex functions of my brain, the easier it is to honor my instincts.  And …

Each time I honor an instinct, fearful feelings of self-doubt diminish.

In short, I don't need to know why I have a feeling to honor that feeling.  So rather than laboring to deliver a premie, I'll place my faith in this belief:  One day that baby will be ready to slide out of my mind fully formed.


As this has proved true, repeatedly, residual tension fades away, and I can move forward with patience intact, feeling relaxed.  You see, the more relaxed my mind, the more clearly I think.  So if you agree that positive attitude and timing are everything, then you, too, may feel relaxed while your sense of readiness to solve a mystery develops, step by step.

         
As you shall see, I'll produce many one act plays from my memory before the final curtain goes up, revealing the primary reason why Mother Nature directed denial to control my mind when I was a tot.  Once again, as Mother Nature offers the gift of denial to us all, then this defense mechanism must be a good thing.  On the other hand immersing one's mind in denial indicates a depth of pain too fearsome to consciously acknowledge.  So something must have literally scared me out of my wits when I was much younger than ten ...

        
As instinct refuses to awaken sleeping Furies, right now, let’s examine a memory, which no longer confounds me or needles me with residual pain.  In fact, this memory exemplifies my readiness to roar, NEVER AGAIN! 

11 BULLY FOR ME Part 5 DENIAL WEAVES FANTASIES

11   BULLY FOR ME  Part 5 DENIAL WEAVES FANTASIES

Common knowledge suggests that no one leaves childhood unscathed by ‘evil spells’.  However here’s where fairy tales and memoirs part ways:  Whereas fairy tales offer princes and princesses happily-ever-after endings, reality charges real, live guys and gals with seeking out paths where self-awareness is what frees one from evil spells, over time.

          
I mean what might have happened had Hansel and Gretel abandoned each other when life got dark as a forest or hot as an oven?  Though storybook characters depend upon each other's courageous support during life's darkest hours that's when live people lean toward divorce.

         
With thoughts of pulling together vs. pulling apart, let’s consider this:  Harrowing experiences create confusion.  And during confusing times, contradicting traits compete for space inside our minds.  Then to make matters worse, denial blinds us from seeing our vulnerabilities with clarity, so pots call kettles black.  Thus does the blame-game heighten pain all around.
         
In my opinion, this is NOT how love makes the world go round.  This is how fear and fury spin clarity into La La Land.
        
Though embarking upon a quest for self discovery may be a scary thought, I envision life as a Create-My-Own-Adventure.  And here's how that came to be:  While my mom consciously nurtured each of her daughters to grow into unique individuals, my dad's sense of adventure injected us with the strength of his spirit.
         
Even so, people are people where ever we go—meaning that all people are vulnerable to denial—most especially during difficult times.
        
Each time you witness the strength of my spirit nearing collapse, my defense system will sweep me on to the stage of Denialand, where I’ll produce, direct, star in and believe in my own productions for decades on end.  In short, denial will serve me well until I weave a fantasy, which cannot sustain the test of time.

         
Eventually, my pattern of denying subconscious pain will plague my marriage.  Today, when can't figure out how I got from 'there to here', I question whether denial is blocking my way.  However I’m getting ahead of myself, so let’s consider one last insight for today:


If balance in all things is a rule of thumb then visiting Denialand enables a person's spirit to make it through a fearsome time.  However any attempt to move one’s entire life into Denialand weaves a fantasy that's bound to explode.  And …

Once Fantasyland bombs, depression descends—BIGTIME.

At eleven years old, I'm still decades away from my Fantasyland’s collapse.  So when next we meet I'll show you how The Furies of Inner Conflict devil me, night after night.  Then I'll introduce the person who tries to save me from seriously injuring myself … 

10 BULLY FOR ME Part 4 NIGHT TERRORS

Upon walking across the thresholds of our front door after my first ride home from hell, I don’t recall rushing upstairs to peer anxiously into the full-length mirror, hanging on the back of my bedroom door.  I don’t remember wondering if those insults slamming my body are true.  I just remember shutting the front door behind me and calling out:  Hi Mom!  I’m home!  What’s for dinner?  I’m starved!  And a-c-t-i-n-g as if everything feels just fine and dandy, as per my pattern, I move forward just like always.  Or so I’d thought.

 
You see, denial did not gain control over my mind at ten years old.  I'd had sound reason to become an academy-award-winning actress way before construction on Dad’s dream house had ever begun.  So it's no problem for me to act just fine while I, sitting squished between the sweaty bodies of two smirking guys, ignore them grumbling  snidely, back and forth, about how much bench space I take up while their hips shove rudely into mine.  And if, from time to time, the red hot poker of humiliation hits a nerve, well—my trusty defense system presses the button marked ‘repression’, which pushes every cognitive awareness of my distress ever more deeply into that black hole, where self conscious awareness—seething with anguished resentment—is mercifully knocked out cold, this emptying my mind of reality too painful to bare to myself, and in this way has Mother Nature patterned my brain to safeguard the human spirit from feeling as insignificant as a sardine trapped inside a tightly packed can, terrified of being eaten alive!
 
Whenever the bowels of Hell convey me to the house of God and then back home, we’ll watch the high-spirited child, lovingly nurtured by both of my parents, disappear into denial.  And—rideafterrideafterride—we’ll see my social self-confidence do what my body cannot.  It simply shrinks up and plays dead.

  Over time here's what develops in its stead:

Subconscious insecurities loom HUGE behind my ‘I don’t care’ facade.
And as my cheerful persona walls off all sense of conscious awareness concerning my physicality, my self image gets stuck in a very bad place, meaning that I can barely discern prepubescent changes, which are about to reshape my body.

 
As denial empowers my mind to wall off despair, I seemingly cope with situations beyond my control to change for the better, overnight.  However in order to keep my eyes closed today’s truths, which prove too painful for an eleven year old to bear, my defense system must dig its heels ever more deeply into Denialand, every time I hear the van honking its horn, which hypnotically casts a magic spell over my brain as though to draw me mechanically out of the safety of my home ...
 
As to my nights—well that’s a whole other nightmare.  And when that story unfolds, you’ll see what takes place when subconscious terrors, stirring in the dark, awaken repressed furies, which tear my peaceful demeanor into shreds ...

8 BULLY FOR ME Part 3 A DEFINING MOMENT

So here I stand in front of our brand new, two story, red brick, Georgian-styled house (no straw, wood or wolves to be seen) with Hebrew books in hand.  As my self-image has suffered no flagrant fouls, I'm eager to befriend the ‘innocent’ children who, along with me, are on their way to the compassionate house of God.

         
With no clue that a battle with the mean minded BULLY OF THE BUS is about to ensue, I climb into the van and begin to take a seat.
As I'm unprepared for what’s to come, my vulnerability is exposed.

         
With one quick glance, THE BULLY OF THE BUS spies an easy target and sets his beady sights on me.  Then seizing the moment, he lands a solid sucker punch straight into my gut—without so much as lifting a hand.
         
You see, with one God-awful, hair-raising roar, this mean-minded Ring Master reaches into my head, grabs my brain and flings my senses right out of that van.  If you wonder how that bully shatters my self-confidence, quick as a whip lash tames the cat in the cage, well, here’s what spews out of that bully’s mean mouth:

Oh my God!  Look what we’ve got here!

Move over!  Waaaaay over!

I’m not sitting next to THAT!

HEY-YOU, make room for—FATTY—over THERE!!!
And from that moment on I am the butt (literally) of countless fat jokes, which entertain an entire busload of kids, every time I climb into that van.

         
So there it is—one defining moment that determines my lack of confidence with guys for decades to come.  You see, once I take this whack to the head, my brain's inner compass flies off course.  In lieu of a well balanced compass, my perspective, concerning my relationships with guys will veer off center for many a year.
         
In case you'd like to ask:  Annie, can an evil spirit really knock out a person’s self-confident, brain power in one fell swoop?  Well, in truth, the strength of the human spirit does not deflate as fast as a blown up balloon, left untied, goes Ffffffttttt!  You see traits like:

Resilience and perseverance exhaust, little by little, one tortuous step at a time.

And to make matters worse—the more resilient the spirit the more stubbornly a person endures onslaughts of negative energy until the day dawns when something HUGE flies in from out of the blue and smashes what's left of the compass, thus catalyzing the spirit's final collapse.

When that something HUGE flies in from out of the blue—a little later in this story—you'll witness wild roars of laughter grind the last shards of my spirit into dust.  At that point, what little is left of my social self confidence will be toast.

AND THAT WILL BE THAT FOR DECADES TO COME!

As I’ve revealed very few details, thus far, please keep this insight in mind:  the little that you know of my childhood is not all there is to know—meaning that many missing puzzle pieces have yet to be retrieved.  Once every essential fact has been plugged into all of my stories' holes, a bigger picture will be revealed.  And not until then will the puzzle be solved as to why I was empowered to take a courageous stand in defense of others but not in behalf of myself.
        
As you shall see (in a story yet to come), defining moments commonly occur younger than ten years of age.  However rather than pedaling backward to an earlier stage in my life, at this time, let’s turn the page and check out that which I’ll choose to endure every time I agree (?) to descend, silently, into the bowels of Hell—until a day dawns, when my spirit shouts—EnOUgH! 

7 BULLY FOR ME Part 2 EXTRAORDINARY EXPECTATIONS

Having never changed schools, I’d no clue that new kids rarely break into well-established clicks right away.  However that unrealistic expectation pales in comparison to the experience that's about to bring me to my knees.

         
With no clue that change is a mixed bag of tricks, I open the back door to our new house and follow Lauren into Mom's brand new, green and melon kitchen.  After offering mom a quick kiss, I slide onto the padded bench that makes up one side of the booth, flanking our breakfast table—which I think is cool.  Then, I down a snack and jabber away about my first day in school until Mom points to the wall clock and cautions me to watch the time.  After gulping down the rest of my milk, I run up stairs into the huge, sunny bedroom, which Lauren and I had just begun to share.

         
Now, I set my notebook and fifth grade texts on top of my desk and sweep a short stack of Hebrew books into my arms.  Right before running back down the stairs, I stop just long enough to glance around.  And what I see makes me smile, because every piece of French provincial furniture is brand new.  And even if the furniture isn't really French, at least it's brand new!  I mean in addition to having twin desks, Lauren and I are each sleeping in our very own beds!  And now that Grandma has a room of her own and doesn't have to sleep on the sunporch, as she did in the apartment, my grandma's as happy to have reclaimed her double bed as Lauren and I are to sleep in twin beds of our own.

         
As memory recaptures that moment, it’s easy to see why I assume my pipe dream will fall in line with the extraordinary life with which I've been blessed.  So when a honking horn signals the arrival of my ride, I dash down the stairs and out the front door with nary a care, because all I sense is adventure in the air.  And with my Hebrew books pressed like a shield against my chest, I’ve no reason to suspect that my self-confident, high flying spirit is about to be shot down—BIG TIME!