The nature of a subconscious mindset, based in repressed fear of emotional abandonment and anger, exacerbates a pleaser's need for peace (and inclusion) no matter the cost to oneself. As the depth of my fear of anger and exclusion wound round each other, forming a double helix inside my mind at the tender age of three, denial blocked my conscious awareness from identifying this fact for most of my life: The interwoven nature of those fears tormented my peace of mind each time the mere hint of conflict had reason to arise, and those fears would remain invisibly indivisible as long as my conscious awareness remained blind to the subconscious (unprocessed) nature of their existence. And thus did denial blind me to those times when the depth of my fear of emotional abandonment empowered my loved ones' frowns to silence my spirit's desire to voice any need that conflicted with a need of their own.
Upon adopting the role of family peace keeper as my own, the merest sensation of tension, crackling through the air, disabled the self assertive portion of my voice. Why? Because my personal sense of safety depended upon my ability to restore harmony, all around. Why? Because deep inside my mind, 'safe and peaceful' felt as indivisible as 'abandoned and angry', And in order to safeguard the fragility of my sense of inner peace, my brain repressed all conscious awareness of having disempowered the self assertive portion of my voice, during conflict, except for those times when the safety or peace of mind of any of my kids was at stake.
Having worked, painstakingly, over these past several years, to gain clarity, concerning my life-long, subconscious struggle with inner conflict, I've come to understand why an identity crises, emerging ever so slowly from within my core, felt compelled to begin to peel away at layers of denial in the aftermath of my father's death. You see, as a child, my father's unconditional love had served as my safety net, each time my self worth experienced a solid blow to the brain.
Each time an existential need of my own had locked horns with the needs of a loved one, my decision to choose peace over controversy led me to capitulate so readily, completely, graciously and habitually that no one, who'd thought to know me well, caught wind of the fearful attitude behind the subservience of my peace-keeping smile, including me.
With no clue that the passive nature of my peace keeping smile harbored an internal struggle, rooted in my deeply repressed issues with anger, there was no way for anyone to surmise that, in the aftermath of any experience too confounding for the vulnerable mind of a good little girl to process, I'd struggled with inner conflict, concerning my self worth, born of undiagnosed PTSD, beginning at the age of three.
As long as my childhood terror of emotional abandonment and explosive anger remained repressed and undiagnosed, the intelligent adult, I grew up to be, had no clue as to why my need for communal inclusion trumped my spirit's heartfelt desire to thrive by respecting needs that proved to be 'soully' my own.
Over most of my life, I'd no clue that heartfelt anger stokes strength of spirit with fuel, necessary to energize the impassioned reaction that fends off an aggressor, whose focus remains intent upon usurping control over heartfelt decisions, which rightfully belonged 'soully' to me. Though aggressive moves, stimulated spikes of anxiety, causing me to pass my baton of self empowerment to another, it was kindness on the part of kindred spirits, whose intuitive sensitivities responded respectfully to my unspoken needs, that won my heartfelt allegiance. Hence did, I unconsciously equated love with the development of a self disciplined voice when I was no more than three.
Though reflection suggests that my perception of love proved too narrow to meet with the guidelines of reality, my mistaken perception served my children well in this regard: My subconscious fear of impassioned explosions of anger channeled my conscious mind to study family communications in hopes of coaching each of my sons to develop a voice of intelligence, grounded in well-rounded, self disciplined, heartfelt leadership skills. And knowing that children's minds are thirsty sponges, meaning they'd soak up well-rounded leadership skills learned at home, guess who consciously chose to develop and model every personal strength, which I'd guided each of my children to respect and absorb as their own? On the other hand, at those times when my voice choked inside my throat, I knew not why ...
Thank goodness, much of the coaching I did, during those hectic, child rearing years, was actively absorbed by the logical portion of my brain. And once my mouseketeers had grown to be musketeers, offering me more free time to peer into my mirror, guess what I saw staring back? My fatal flaw ... subconscious fear! However, my fatal flaw had been cloaked within so many layers of denial as to have fooled me into believing that I knew myself, through and through ... Sigh ... Time and again, denial has proven to be my toughest opponent to pin to the mat.
Thank goodness, over these past few years, I opened my mind and chose to switch hats. Rather than coaching children, I've sought out astute coaches, who guided my mind to identify repressed fear of anger, which had never failed to stir up the sense of inner conflict that had simmered on the back burner of my mind where unprocessed trauma hid behind my ever-ready smile until my dad's death's exhumed subconscious childhood terror, freeing PTSD to leap upon center stage, terrifying me within an inch of my life!
Thank goodness, I'd consciously mustered the courage to confront my existential need to fully arouse ghosts, which have haunted my sense of personal safety over most of my life.
Thank goodness, I've chosen to re-experience (reprocess) each painful stage of personal development, which my safe and narrow path of complacency had tip toed past, blind as a bat. As a budding teen, I'd no clue that Elvis's hip swiveling style was sexual. I thought he was a comic singer with ants in his pants. By employing denial, my thought processor transformed anything that had the power to scare me into something that the painfully scarred portion of my mind could handle without tapping into one of the repressed fears, which had traumatized my ability to perceive of anger, death or sex with anything that came close to a healthy sense of clarity.
As you may remember, I still feel too fearful to tap into that which had caused my teen-aged sexuality to feel so traumatized as to block my mind from relating any high school story other than the one, which, for some unknown reason, flowed out of my memory bank so naturally as to have catalyzed my mind to write Captain Crush so utterly free of fear that crystal clear clarity was mine. More about that heartfelt flash from the past when readiness to tap more deeply into my experiences with teen aged angst emerges, sometime down the road.
Thank goodness, I've worked intuitively to gain insight into the fact that my peaceful sense of personal safety no longer needs to tether my spirit to walk the straight and narrow, today.
Thank goodness, my personal sense of self respect has gained insight into the importance of mustering the courage to carve a path whereby my voice, which has long been versed in diplomatic negotiations, does not feel need to swallow my desires behind the facade of my smile while the rest of me walks a tight wire, only to find myself wallowing in subconscious frustration as soon as my deepest thoughts and unmet needs are alone and wakeful in the still of the night. Been there, done with that!
Thank goodness, whatever I feel, today, is what you see, suggesting that emotional transparency feels as natural to me as is true of Ravi, whose natural reactions have not yet been emotionally restrained to act in a socially acceptable manner.
Thank goodness, this innocent child's high spirited adventures with misbehavior will receive coaching by those who, having become well-practiced in the art of discretionary graces, will guide her active mind to choose wisely without shaming her self esteem when, inevitably, her existential needs do not wholly conform with society's sense of righteousness.
Thank goodness, I've grown to see that denial is meant to carry us past the initial stages of emotional anguish or mental terror; however we commit error to believe that the passionate spirit of an intelligent mind can reside within denial's docile environment, forever. And thus, each time the most intelligent portion of my mind feels confined or conflicted, over long, my intuitive sense of creativity seeks to conjure up a plan, which, making sound use of insight, simplifies complexity until such time as the emergence of a common denominator resolves an on-going, internal conflict, once and for all.
Thank goodness, a frightened, eager to please, good little girl grew up to breathe life into your deeply thoughtful friend, Annie, whose self trust set out on a quest to recover from PTSD, and the success of her quest can be measured in the intuitively creative, solution-seeking, plan-making, problem solving manner with which she chose to parent almost as many kids as the old woman who lived in a shoe, before setting her sights on re-parenting the traumatized little girl, who'd secretly needed to heal from PTSD ever since her sense of self worth had suffered serious injury, first, at the age of three. Then again, before she was ten, then, again, at twelve. And not until an intuitive need stirred her to search for the self assertive portion of her voice, could anyone, who'd loved her dearly, hear a good, little girl's silent cry for help ...
Thank goodness, my batting average, concerning conscientiously negotiating countless win-wins, remains so high as to have strengthened the veracity of my sincerity each time my intuitive sense of self confidence feels need to tap into yet another string of insights, which, over time, frees my voice to state yet another unmet need aloud with self restraint and self respect intact. As kindness is my thing, I take no pleasure in passive aggressively pushing your buttons or raining on your parade, no matter how hard it may be raining in my neck of the woods.
BTW: I have no clue which portion of the brain that resides inside my head, thinks to link words together until a train of thought, which proves as complex as today's, shapes up on my screen. I guess we might say that, having dived ever more courageously into my psyche, whatever treasure surfaces from within my soul seems ripe to share, whether mindsets are open to absorb that which my sense of clarity feels need to express or not. Though I can lead your think tank to spirit-sustaining water, I can't make you drink.
And having clarified why my contemplation of thought patterns guides the teacher in me toward making gains in personal growth, I hope that my choice to simplify emotional complexity, which, left on its own, causes the most intelligent heads to ache, all too painfully, makes sense to you, too. And with that said, it's time to rest my mind, pull on my lucky socks and place leftovers in the oven to warm, because it's game day, suggesting that Will, David and I are about to hear Steven, ringing our bell, holding Ravi, whose sweet smile is sure to invite our own to come out to play ...
And now that today's train of thought, concerning the depth of my heartfelt sense of
thankfulness, has pulled into the station, I'll end this post with two words:
See CREED
(Bet you were expecting me to write: Know Thyself, right?)
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