I didn't know where to put this, especially since I'm still laughing...
on the phone this evening with my mom (she's fully into her monologue sturm & drang rerun conversation) - while I'm still scrubbing away at the floor - and I'm ready to move the bucket/long handled brush... when CRASH - and an OH SH*%!... my brush handle got tangled up with a nice bottle of white wine in the wine rack (sniff!! I'll miss it) and now I had glass to clean up... so my mom hung up!
I'd like to credit my unconscious self for this selfless act of protecting me, at all costs. (She really liked that wine...)
So. Now I know where to put this.
The part I didn't mention in the vignette above... was that my mom was ranting, railing, all worked up about my SIL and niece, again. Apparently niece has taken to saying things like "well, I might as well kill myself". She's 13 and has the usual age-related mom issues, which of course have been totally muddled by Grandma's contradictory behavior controlling, mind-control, guilt-trip, and boundary-less interference. NMom had a ready answer, when I told her kids that age said things like that, a lot.
NMom said, well Aunt So-So's 12 yr old did exactly that; he was under too much pressure. That must've been 40 years ago.
And she flatly states: nothing is ever that bad that you have to do that. ***Cue: crash, swearing & hanging up and that jarring time/space warp sensation of having entered a universe where no (sane) man has gone before.
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I have been in what I believe is my "last lap" around the healing the circle (I hope)... trying new approaches to solving this issue of self-harm. It's not something that can be addressed by immersing myself in feelings nor memories alone, nor open to change by fiat and head-on confrontation. So I've learned that I can indirectly, in a side-ways fashion, gain collaboration with the part of me which copes with difficult things - and through force of habit, anything which represents my lack of awareness of my own needs and meeting them - with self-harm. I haven't been able to explain how this works - not even to myself. The feral cat metaphor/analogy, I think, is still the closest.
So a light bulb went off in my head, a little while ago - social science! OK... wasn't sure where this came from or why... or what I hoped to find there. And granted, the author I read might've been too professorial - he sure does like talking about his studies and the results of them! And when the first book "Adaptive Unconscious" only teased; hinted at a piece of information without just coming right out & stating it... I read another book by him. Still, I felt like this wasn't going to yield anything useful.
After all, my experience was kinda unique - what would social science & social psychology, which deals with "group" patterns and dynamics have to do with that???? The ONLY place I'd found other people who knew what I was talking about, was here. River and her Self in Exile... Gaining Strength... Certain Hope... m'dears Hopsy, and tt and FW and...................
So all that stuff was floating around, settling, and being digested in my thoughts when my mom called this week. And the crash of the wine bottle was meant to get MY attention - my unconscious self was waving her hand in the air, hoping the teacher would call on her! She knew the answer!!! And yet, it still took days for this to simplify itself into something that a.) is coherent and b.) is so simple I can't shoot holes in it.
What is Hannibal Lector CREEPY about all this... is how my mom is replaying exactly the same script on poor niece, that she played on me. Niece is in a damned if you, damned if don't, double-bind feedback loop between her mom and grandma, because G'ma has decided Mom is devil spawn and the only thing standing between Niece and total ruination is G'ma. At the same time, G'ma has engineered this particular line in the sand - by "assuming" a parental role - traipsing right across that boundary and denying mom's authority... then accusing her of being irresponsible. Just like she did with my dad, my aunt, my neighbor Ruth - and myself in the middle. Gonna just tack this post-it up on the board and come back to it in a minute.
So, the social science post-it... a few of the studies referred to were analyzing teenagers responses to "intervention" style attempts to keep kids from getting into trouble. Basic findings are, that any time you throw "at risk" kids into situations with other "bad kids"... they begin to identify with that group, attribute those characteristics to themselves.... to BELONG. Even the "Scared Straight" program backfires with a lot of kids - their kid-logic goes something like this: Jeez... if they went to all this effort to scare the SH&* out me... I really MUST be a bad kid.
OH - HELLO... past memory of smoking & hanging out in cars with older kids during that summer of '69 (I was 12 and had mom's permission - go figure). When the "price" for hanging out with them - being allowed to tag along - required smoking and trying to look older than I was, so I wouldn't drag down their "cool" factor. This was the summer - a few months after - the horrible, horrible events happened. This was during my mom's "whisper campaign" telling me what I thought, what I felt... that she knew me better than I knew myself.
This was AFTER I did cut myself... became banned at Ruths'... after the rape, near-death experience, dissociation, the flat out disbelief on my mother's part that any of that happened to me... her assault on my ability to determine reality by telling doctor after doctor that there must be some physical, medical reason for my symptoms... the rediculous things she made up... the pregnancy/abortion... the lies... to everyone about me... and TO ME... Hell, no, I wasn't thinking well at all!! What 12 yr old could work that Twilight Zone plot out and explain it to herself in a way that resulted in the understanding that it wasn't her fault; a PARENT needs to be accountable/responsible...
Sure Mom; nothing's ever that bad....... </sarcasm>
But I wasn't trying to kill myself. I was trying to get HER out of my head and find ME again. Which of course, was the huge taboo... it was how she controlled me... and of COURSE - I was angry; outraged in every logical, rational and moral way I could be outraged that she would do such a thing to me... and then tell me it was for my own good.
***
Kids say things like "I hate you" and "I might as well kill myself"... when they aren't allowed the basic human right of owning their own feelings. That fundamental boundary... of being a separate person. They are ANGRY in the extreme because this is a life/death situation... their own survival is at stake... their identity, independence, and ability to determine their own "reality" and truth is at stake.
When there is no other way to express that anger and will to survive... then the kid often (not always) takes it out on him/herself**. And what did my mom whisper to me??? One of the things, was that I didn't have to kill myself... it wasn't that bad... she did what she did for my own good... and so that one understanding of a specific event/memory got twisted (see social science post-it) into self-harm. It was OK for her to be angry - but no one else was allowed to be; especially ME.
My mom's exact words when she found out I was smoking were: "Well, it could be worse".
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**
What a predicament, huh? In my case, it caused a sort of functional split between my conscious "self" and my unconscious self. Schizo is one way of describing it... because I simply was NOT able to have any impact on persuading my unconscious self to sign on to changes that would benefit me, in any way shape or form. Rewards backfired... bribes backfired... rules backfired... data tracking... it ALL failed. I was literally going in two directions at once. In so many respects, my unconscious self was just like a feral cat... and clearly, it was also "voiceless". Voiceless in the respect that I couldn't "hear" it; couldn't hear myself screaming in agony or anger or frustration or need. Those emotions were the part of me that I had to hide; even from myself... because body-language can so easily convey an emotion... and my emotions - when not completely dictated & approved by Nmom - initiated the rage-campaigns and her guilt-trips and... well, you know all the hijinks, right? Flat out, it wasn't safe... to be me.
When I can get back into my Kindle and get the references again, I'll post the names of the various techniques suggested for "fixing" this condition. Essentially, a person "rewrites" their inner narrative. You know, pencil & paper really worked for me. The eye-hand coordination kicked in with the mind-body connection... and after many pages, I found my own peculiar "stream of consciousness" again. At that point, I was able to do the same here.... typing. I knew something was churning up lately; I've been having a lot of trouble typing... something was interfering (more than normal) with both the letters and the words that "fell out" of my fingers. I suspect that it's this exercise - repeated ad nauseum - that's slowly been decreasing the separation between my conscious self and unconscious self. So that we can - most of the time now - speak with one voice, we're going in the same direction... the goals are the same.
The other thing that happens with this constant re-write of one's personal story or narrative... is that with each successive rewrite one gains just a bit more distance from the old, toxically poisonous memories of the emotionally abusive experience. It becomes less emotionally stimulating - old hat, a dry dusty fact just like the fact than once I wore 10-button landlubber bell bottoms that dragged on the ground. There is a lot less "reliving"; "re-experiencing"... because, I guess, the unconscious self is finally given the space to process those emotions about those experiences... in safety, acknowledgement, self-validation, and empathetic understanding. It becomes possible to let that collection of experiences fade away... into the past... not forgotten, but no longer a relevant feature of the present state of being "me".
Essentially - loving the feral cat unconscious self patiently - until it loses or gives up it's misguided (though understandable under those circumstances!) "need" to express itself - to be - through self-harm.