Just as my friendship with Dad had deepened when I was small, my relationship with Mom evolved until we enjoyed a friendship based in intimacy, meaning that a mutual sense of trust had developed, which offered us clear channels of safe passage to discuss our deepest thoughts, greatest pleasures, fervent hopes and conscious fears. Thus did we sit, peaceably, side by side, reminiscing over yesteryear, as the soothing sway of the swing cradled us for quite a while:
“We're a family of strong willed women, Mom. *Strong wills find creative ways to express basic needs unless fear redirects instinct to switch tracks. You know, like the fear that caused Grandma Ella to stop arguing with Dad ..." as Mom gets my meaning, I go on from there:
"Picture me in that movie, Mom, where I'm taking on a fighting stance, hands on hips, head bobbing angrily from side to side while my motor mouth indignantly gives ‘what for’ right back to Uncle Jeff after he’d scolded me for something concerning Mara, who was a toddler. At that point, I did not shirk away from openly confronting an adult—even an alpha-male—like Uncle Jeff ...
Both you and Dad had always told me how Grandpa J strode into our apartment, scooped me out of my crib and played with me, even when I’d been fast asleep, because he—who’d displayed little affection—had so openly adored me. So let's imagine me at not-quite-three, a sweet, blue eyed, dark haired, out spoken, little girl who’d basked in the center spotlight of everyone's attention—until Grandpa and Janet died, but as far as I can 'see' ... they've mysteriously disappeared ..."
At this point I get thoughtful, offering my mother’s ears a rest. Even so, silence does not stop wheels from spinning inside our minds. Though I can’t share Mom's inner thoughts with you, let's imagine ourselves getting a comprehensive, bird's eye view of details, lining up inside my head:
Imagine everyone's sense of security, dropping like dominos, without so much as a warning, into the fires of Hell—twice-in a matter of weeks ...
Imagine the sunny smiles of an extended family, nose-diving into an extensive, confounding period of grief.
Imagine an extended family of adults, unawarely, role modeling—depression ...
Imagine an extended family of adults, unawarely, role modeling—depression ...
Imagine clarity shattering, like a mirror, as traumatic events terrify every mind when my Grandpa and baby sister are gone without a trace ...
(What happened, Jack? Where is she? Why did this happen to us?)
Imagine the dizzying whip of sudden emotional swings ...
(Sudden death, shock, confusion, grief, fear, depression, birth, short-lived elation, sudden death, shock, confounding agony, fear of (undeserved) guilt, agonized depression ... little monkey listening to and absorbing everything big monkeys question, feel, say and do as mental torment circles round ...)
(Sudden death, shock, confusion, grief, fear, depression, birth, short-lived elation, sudden death, shock, confounding agony, fear of (undeserved) guilt, agonized depression ... little monkey listening to and absorbing everything big monkeys question, feel, say and do as mental torment circles round ...)
Imagine mental confusion channeling into anxious contradictions as life goes on...
Imagine a strong spirited, well-loved, sweet, little girl, who will do anything to banish this anguish ...
Imagine this little girl ‘ACTING’ too cooperative, too compliant, too good to be true in hopes of recapturing loved one’s smiles, which her defense system will never take for granted, again ...
Imagine this little girl ‘ACTING’ too cooperative, too compliant, too good to be true in hopes of recapturing loved one’s smiles, which her defense system will never take for granted, again ...
Imagine emotional security drowning in a swirl of subconscious fear whenever a frown peers at this child, thus arousing anxiety—as in Uh-oh! What did I do, or what should I do ... now???
Imagine unexpected changes squeezing every drop of emotional security dry. Imagine every smile sliding down a chute, as though riding a toboggan into a bottomless, black hole, where a deluge of grief darkens every spirit, around.
Imagine unexpected changes squeezing every drop of emotional security dry. Imagine every smile sliding down a chute, as though riding a toboggan into a bottomless, black hole, where a deluge of grief darkens every spirit, around.
Imagine self-defeating patterns—such as undeserved guilt—imprinting deeply into a preschooler's mind ...
Imagine this child repressing anger inside that dark well, from that time on ... Imagine displeasure morphing into an internal itch, which, drives this child close to crazy at night ...
Imagine a sensitive preschooler growing into a child, who eventually reaps the rewards of so much success during the day that her smiles are real ...
Imagine a sensitive preschooler growing into a child, who eventually reaps the rewards of so much success during the day that her smiles are real ...
Imagine those smiles vying for space with that itch ...
Imagine the thought processing center of this child's mind developing channels, so complex, that she grows to be a bright, smiling, straight as an arrow, no-bending-rules teen ...
*Imagine an attitude of safety first quenching a teen's thirst to adventure into the unknown ...Imagine the thought processing center of this child's mind developing channels, so complex, that she grows to be a bright, smiling, straight as an arrow, no-bending-rules teen ...
*Imagine a teen, treading lightly, fearing that, at any time, a series of blind-siding blows may deflate her high flying spirit as fast as a well-aimed swatter flattens a fly ...
*Imagine subconscious fear waiting for the other shoe to drop ...
*Imagine how hyper vigilance develops ...
Imagine this good, little girl developing into a teen, who grows into a woman, whose mind is magnetized by solution-seeking data ...
Imagine an adult mind questing toward methodical, thought processes, which sort through layers of confusion until puzzling details fit together; bigger pictures clarify in 3D, and brain storming results in problem-solving and conflict resolution, all around ...
Imagine this dark haired woman (whose blue eyes tend to swing from gaiety to introspection) gazing into the expanse of an azure sky on a balmy, spring day, while the southwestern desert, surrounding her home, bursts gloriously into full bloom ...
Imagine staunch strengths acquired by desert foliage: deep red bottle brush, golden Palo Verde, richly green queen, date, and Romulus palms—fronds swaying gently with the breeze—a riot of orange/purple/gold Lantana, hot pink Oleander, raspberry Bougainvillea, as well as the short-lived, lilac hued blooms, which, covering the jacaranda, serve as a reminder that euphoria exists in short bursts, while the silent ringing of yellow bells, swing gracefully on the branches of the Thevitia tree, suggesting that the delicacy of life is too precious to allow the spirit to deflate, over long...
Here's how I see it: *Tis each adult's responsibility to dive into the mind, to clarify one's complexities, to choose reality over denial, and in this way, gain control of one's life. But don't take my word for it. Take the word of the sage:
KNOW THYSELF Socrates (RR&R)
(Being a guy, he said all of that in two words ... )
(Being a guy, he said all of that in two words ... )
*For adults, safety depends upon developing core strengths. For children, safety depends upon the core strengths of role-modeling adults. Core strengths are not acquired. Core strengths are developed.
Imagine the influx of people from whom the southwest desert acquired this variety of foliage, just as the mind acquires a riotous array of traits ...
Imagine the fact that many acquired traits are not strengths, at all ...
The question at hand is this: How might strengths be put to good use to serve our needs without casting judgments that put others down? As we all harbor a defense system, this proves to be an on-going feat.Imagine the fact that many acquired traits are not strengths, at all ...
*Imagine insights collecting inside an adult mind, like fire flies shining spotlights on a garden's dark corners, where weeds of mental confusion lay in wait to be exposed, examined, clarified and swept away ...
Imagine fertilizing core strengths by raking in answers to questions such as these:
Imagine fertilizing core strengths by raking in answers to questions such as these:
*Can one ‘be true to oneself’ when one has not yet developed a clear understanding of both sides of one's personal traits?
*What may result if basic needs cross wire and mental clarity short circuits?
*What if the conscious mind knows how to make healthy decisions but does not feel free to make those decisions? For example, what if this mind is channeled to feel peaceful—only while meeting the needs of loved ones? How often will inner conflict arise? *If asked to described inner conflict in two words, I'd choose: indecisive anxiety ...
*What if one knows that frowns are not ice picks, but the mind has been channeled in such a fearful way that frowns feel like ice picks, all the same ...
What if the only decisions that feel peaceful are those, which cause smiles to flash in this person's direction?
What results when shocking waves of trauma carve channels of fear into the mind of a child? PTSD
What if channels of fear slice this child's voice into two separate parts, like slicing through a pie?
What if a child's voice, which no longer rock boats at home, retains the role of ringleader with peers in school—until the age of eleven—at which time this child moves from the big, bustling city to her beloved Dad’s dream house in the suburbs, where once again, fate rings her bell—and still being green and unsuspecting of life's sudden twists and turns—this child runs eagerly out the door with her sense of adventure intact and her vulnerability exposed?
What if many aspects of life, which had once felt safe and familiar outside the home, are slugged into a mental stupor? Thrice? Once at three. Then at eleven. Then at twelve. (Thank goodness, she does well in school!)
What if much that this child knows of herself slips into such a dark sense of confusion that the maze inside her mind swallows her waking hours, whole?
Where might this child—hide from truths too painful to bear? Truths too painful to bare? Too painful to share?
*What may result if basic needs cross wire and mental clarity short circuits?
*What if the conscious mind knows how to make healthy decisions but does not feel free to make those decisions? For example, what if this mind is channeled to feel peaceful—only while meeting the needs of loved ones? How often will inner conflict arise? *If asked to described inner conflict in two words, I'd choose: indecisive anxiety ...
*What if one knows that frowns are not ice picks, but the mind has been channeled in such a fearful way that frowns feel like ice picks, all the same ...
What if the only decisions that feel peaceful are those, which cause smiles to flash in this person's direction?
What results when shocking waves of trauma carve channels of fear into the mind of a child? PTSD
What if channels of fear slice this child's voice into two separate parts, like slicing through a pie?
What if a child's voice, which no longer rock boats at home, retains the role of ringleader with peers in school—until the age of eleven—at which time this child moves from the big, bustling city to her beloved Dad’s dream house in the suburbs, where once again, fate rings her bell—and still being green and unsuspecting of life's sudden twists and turns—this child runs eagerly out the door with her sense of adventure intact and her vulnerability exposed?
What if many aspects of life, which had once felt safe and familiar outside the home, are slugged into a mental stupor? Thrice? Once at three. Then at eleven. Then at twelve. (Thank goodness, she does well in school!)
What if much that this child knows of herself slips into such a dark sense of confusion that the maze inside her mind swallows her waking hours, whole?
Where might this child—hide from truths too painful to bear? Truths too painful to bare? Too painful to share?
Perhaps she'll seek refuge in books ...
It's important to note that once clarity shatters and reality splatters, like raw eggs on the ground, the brain's defense system pushes as much fear as possible into the subconscious. In this way does a child, teen or adult believe herself (himself) whole, when in truth, this person's sense of awareness has split into two, separate parts. Once this split occurs, the conscious mind finds it impossible to differentiate between reality and time spent in Denialand—unless courage to puncture the surface is mustered. (Ah ha! So that's why no man is an island. *We can't penetrate defensive walls without astute help!)
For the most part it's easy to see how a mind, working to remain in Denialand, must pretend that eggs are not smashing, here and there. As tip toeing over smashed eggs can get quite messy—especially if you're pretending those smashed eggs are not there—well, anyone who's walked on eggshells understands how comfort zones narrow, over time. You see, unresolved problems lead to many more. Therefore, broken egg shells grow plentiful. And if we feel the need to mask our vulnerabilities (from ourselves!), causing comfort zones to narrow even more, then treading carefully, we hold our breath, deprive ourselves of oxygen and guess what happens, next? A state of light headed anxiety makes us crawl into bed, where we pull the covers over our heads in hopes that the harsh aspects of reality will just go away and leave us alone!
For many years, my conscious mind blew up balloons, filled with futility, while my subconscious hid reality's pins out of view. Try to 'help' a person to exit Denialand before readiness matures and watch hot spots of defensive pins poke through thin skin and stick you! Though one side of the personality looks like flower, fragile petals can turn into thick skinned cactus spines quick as a cute, little pup can bite. *Though we can master biting pups, the only adult we can 'teach' not to bite (even when wounded) is—oneself.
As it becomes plain to see, we have no clue of repressing certain strengths along with portions of our voices when we're young. Thus: *It stands to reason that confusion causes clarity to grow fuzzier by the year.
Once the mind is compartmentalized into conscious and subconscious portions, we can't penetrate defensive walls, which separate fiction of our own making from the truth—without seeking help. On the other hand, slices of truth remain stored within our subconscious along with the silenced part of each voice, which morphs into the 'little voice', that's all too often, ignored, deep inside our core.
As many years will pass before I develop the habit of digging deep in search of repressed emotion, I'll worry that what others say about me may be true. Why? Because: *Insecurity is a highly impressionable critter. *Insecurity is a trait that exacerbates confusion. Why? Because the older we get, the more contrasting opinions we absorb. Ye Gads! Imagine the mess of mixed-messaged madness that lays ahead! (Thank goodness my mind will take me on quests!)
Instead of peering into a mirror with 20/20 vision, my take on life is about to resemble a fun house mirror. I mean it's one thing to sit in a darkened theater, wearing 3D glasses, staring at things, which clarify as they 'seem' to leap off of a fuzzy screen. It's quite another to walk through life with a fuzzy vision of oneself until maturity consciously pieces together bigger pictures, so that crucial aspects of life clarify in 3D ...
I've often heard: How much can one person take?
On the other hand, I've also heard: When it rains it pours.
As life is a two sided coin, I gather insights, which expand my views:
Imagine the trauma of your home crashing down on your head during a tornado. Pretty hard to take, right?
Now, imagine being alone and going into labor while your home is crashing down on your head during a tornado ...
Life becomes much more complicated than children or adults can fathom. And the length of time that a strong adult can handle unresolved conflict may depend upon how many storms are crashing down, all at once. When observers fail to look beneath the surface of the little that can be readily seen, it's common to minimize that which others can no longer bear. Miss the depth of the storms raining down upon a head, laboring to fathom pain, which will not resolve, on all sides, then you dismiss the sincerity of the exhaustion, which is clearly reaching out to a support system for help. Finally, when juggling several umbrellas is no longer an option—watch the strengths, which support the spirit, collapse under the weight of being unheard. It's common for support systems to turn a deaf ear until the body of a seasoned batter, in need of an extended rest, has no choice left other than to bench oneself. When the blindness of others continues to minimize heavy weights that exhaustion can no longer carry, it takes inner strength to say: Enough's enough! It also takes a voice ...
As the conscious mind of a child has no clue of wandering ever more deeply into life's emotional maze, tykes morph into adults, who are often blind to the difference between 'harsh truths' and manipulative 'put downs'. As long as adults remain blindly impressionable to the opinions of those who judge the little that can be seen on the surface—fear will submerge our deepest needs within our core—behind denial's walls.
If we can't see the sum of our parts as a whole then we'll remain unaware of how often the blind lead the blind. *As a result of self imposed blindness, successful people commonly swing from self confidence to insecurity in a flash.
*If you have no clue as to when your conscious mind swings toward defensive pretense, it's tough to distinguish defensive reactions from core strengths. *In short, self esteem suffers painfully when the defense system blocks us from seeing how often denial breathes life into misperception.
It's important to note that once clarity shatters and reality splatters, like raw eggs on the ground, the brain's defense system pushes as much fear as possible into the subconscious. In this way does a child, teen or adult believe herself (himself) whole, when in truth, this person's sense of awareness has split into two, separate parts. Once this split occurs, the conscious mind finds it impossible to differentiate between reality and time spent in Denialand—unless courage to puncture the surface is mustered. (Ah ha! So that's why no man is an island. *We can't penetrate defensive walls without astute help!)
For the most part it's easy to see how a mind, working to remain in Denialand, must pretend that eggs are not smashing, here and there. As tip toeing over smashed eggs can get quite messy—especially if you're pretending those smashed eggs are not there—well, anyone who's walked on eggshells understands how comfort zones narrow, over time. You see, unresolved problems lead to many more. Therefore, broken egg shells grow plentiful. And if we feel the need to mask our vulnerabilities (from ourselves!), causing comfort zones to narrow even more, then treading carefully, we hold our breath, deprive ourselves of oxygen and guess what happens, next? A state of light headed anxiety makes us crawl into bed, where we pull the covers over our heads in hopes that the harsh aspects of reality will just go away and leave us alone!
For many years, my conscious mind blew up balloons, filled with futility, while my subconscious hid reality's pins out of view. Try to 'help' a person to exit Denialand before readiness matures and watch hot spots of defensive pins poke through thin skin and stick you! Though one side of the personality looks like flower, fragile petals can turn into thick skinned cactus spines quick as a cute, little pup can bite. *Though we can master biting pups, the only adult we can 'teach' not to bite (even when wounded) is—oneself.
As it becomes plain to see, we have no clue of repressing certain strengths along with portions of our voices when we're young. Thus: *It stands to reason that confusion causes clarity to grow fuzzier by the year.
Once the mind is compartmentalized into conscious and subconscious portions, we can't penetrate defensive walls, which separate fiction of our own making from the truth—without seeking help. On the other hand, slices of truth remain stored within our subconscious along with the silenced part of each voice, which morphs into the 'little voice', that's all too often, ignored, deep inside our core.
As many years will pass before I develop the habit of digging deep in search of repressed emotion, I'll worry that what others say about me may be true. Why? Because: *Insecurity is a highly impressionable critter. *Insecurity is a trait that exacerbates confusion. Why? Because the older we get, the more contrasting opinions we absorb. Ye Gads! Imagine the mess of mixed-messaged madness that lays ahead! (Thank goodness my mind will take me on quests!)
Instead of peering into a mirror with 20/20 vision, my take on life is about to resemble a fun house mirror. I mean it's one thing to sit in a darkened theater, wearing 3D glasses, staring at things, which clarify as they 'seem' to leap off of a fuzzy screen. It's quite another to walk through life with a fuzzy vision of oneself until maturity consciously pieces together bigger pictures, so that crucial aspects of life clarify in 3D ...
I've often heard: How much can one person take?
On the other hand, I've also heard: When it rains it pours.
As life is a two sided coin, I gather insights, which expand my views:
Imagine the trauma of your home crashing down on your head during a tornado. Pretty hard to take, right?
Now, imagine being alone and going into labor while your home is crashing down on your head during a tornado ...
Life becomes much more complicated than children or adults can fathom. And the length of time that a strong adult can handle unresolved conflict may depend upon how many storms are crashing down, all at once. When observers fail to look beneath the surface of the little that can be readily seen, it's common to minimize that which others can no longer bear. Miss the depth of the storms raining down upon a head, laboring to fathom pain, which will not resolve, on all sides, then you dismiss the sincerity of the exhaustion, which is clearly reaching out to a support system for help. Finally, when juggling several umbrellas is no longer an option—watch the strengths, which support the spirit, collapse under the weight of being unheard. It's common for support systems to turn a deaf ear until the body of a seasoned batter, in need of an extended rest, has no choice left other than to bench oneself. When the blindness of others continues to minimize heavy weights that exhaustion can no longer carry, it takes inner strength to say: Enough's enough! It also takes a voice ...
As the conscious mind of a child has no clue of wandering ever more deeply into life's emotional maze, tykes morph into adults, who are often blind to the difference between 'harsh truths' and manipulative 'put downs'. As long as adults remain blindly impressionable to the opinions of those who judge the little that can be seen on the surface—fear will submerge our deepest needs within our core—behind denial's walls.
If we can't see the sum of our parts as a whole then we'll remain unaware of how often the blind lead the blind. *As a result of self imposed blindness, successful people commonly swing from self confidence to insecurity in a flash.
*If you have no clue as to when your conscious mind swings toward defensive pretense, it's tough to distinguish defensive reactions from core strengths. *In short, self esteem suffers painfully when the defense system blocks us from seeing how often denial breathes life into misperception.
If you'd like see details fleshed in, which had pinched the self esteem of a blue eyed, dark haired child, causing her comfort zones to narrow and catch her voice in her throat—well, this is your lucky day, because those essential details have already been plugged into the bigger picture of this girl's ordinary life within a series of posts entitled:
BULLY FOR ME
FIRST KISS
TWINKLE TWINKLE LITTLE STAR
FIRST KISS
TWINKLE TWINKLE LITTLE STAR
To simplify matters, these stories begin with post #6
Written on 2/26/2011 ... starting with:
BULLY FOR ME Part 1 VICTIMS NEED VILLAINS
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