I hoped you wouldn't take that badly, GS. I was posting rather quickly; not much time yesterday. I am grateful for the concern you expressed... and yes, I did stand staring over the edge of that cliff for a couple of days. But there isn't a reason anymore for me - or Twiggy - to dive back into and revive all the old horrible, emotional stuff. We've done enough of that, now. It's important to note that not all of my experiences or emotions as Twiggy - were like that. There was much, much more that was positive, life-affirming, connected to life and people and the spiritual or mystic. There was a confidence, physical ability & grace, openness and curiosity, compassion and a sense of social justice to Twiggy that got "snuffed out" when she was overcome and forced into her living tomb of a box.
There is much about Twiggy that I want back, in my lilfe now. It's like Shel Silverstein's "Missing Piece". I am whole, if I am cognizant of being her. And ALL of her feelings, thoughts and interests - not just that one period that got blanked out, shoved in a dark box and forgotten about because it was so horrible; unbearable at the time... and only called down punishment on me for trying to trying to work it out by myself, in my trial & error way, alone. As awful as that was, I can now "bear" that... and doing so, acknowledges Twiggy... what she survived... and allowed her to continue her "growing up"... and do her own healing. Twiggy's come a long, long way in a few short years.
There was one big life-changing "mistake" that Twiggy made back then. Given the situation, the context and the circumstances it was a forgiveable mistake or decision; but the fact remains that there was pressure and force involved in the making of that decision - that mistake. Twiggy fought like hell to come up with another alternative, but that only increased the pressure, demands, force and punishments levied against her. And eventually, she was overcome... she had exhausted all her strength, determination, resiliency and resources... and eventually, she went away into the "the box".
The mistake was that SHE went into the box instead of just the memories of what she had and was suffering. She completely gave up in the face of her mother's intrusive projections and transference about what to think, what to feel, who she really was. She simply didn't have the energy to fight it off anymore, poor thing. Another way to say this, is that Twiggy and her personality & thoughts & emotions got pushed into my unconscious... just out of the reach and spotlight of my conscious awareness.
E = mc
2 you know. She didn't cease to exist in this universe - far from it. For most of my life, she was a force that - like a broken record - was still demanding attention: tell me what happened, I know/I remember what happened - I'm not crazy, why won't you tell me the truth? (to my mother). And she was still fighting for survival, too - against the "self" that I was forced to adopt, to be able to co-exist with my sick mother... and the ongoing unfairness of parentification and therefore, rejection of my rightful needs as a child and teenager in that FOO.
Twiggy became the force of self-sabotage; self-abuse... trying to fight off the paperdoll clothes of the "evil, empty self" projected into/onto her by her mother; undermining or preventing all attempts at self-development, growth, change... self-care. Twiggy has been very much "alive" all these years - in her weird, alternate, parallel universe of my unconscious self. And so, I decide that I will eat breakfast every day... and tomorrow, "I" don't feel like it or "I" forget... this is Twiggy: rebelling against the "comfort that kills or hurts"... the warped "mothering"... the "help" that hurt even more, because it denied Twiggy her separate self; her individuality. (see: smoking, too). It is the explanation for my lack of self-trust, self-committment, ability to carry out intention as regards my self.
Twiggy wouldn't stop rebelling or fighting back, until she was heard loud & clear & over and over - until I was able to feel all her feelings, not JUST the awful ones. Until I could convince her that I "got it". Until I could acknowledge that she was a force for good... that I completely understood where she was "coming from" and why she felt that way... and that no, she wasn't crazy at all. I had to believe that this was all REAL. In fact, without her thoughts, memories or feelings - I barely exist as a person. There's a paper cutout doll here that says & does the "right" things most of the time - but no vibrancy, no life, no emotion - without Twiggy alive and well and thriving in me.
And well, I guess that I still thought (deep down) that Twiggy and her story were still simply a theory; a hypothesis; of what "happened" to me until I began seeing this bizarre repetition going on in my brother's life. That has hit me in the gut with the full force of an emotional battering ram and I've had to once and for all accept that yep; this was REAL and it really happened to me/Twiggy. And yes, I was afraid while staring over that cliff... into Twiggy and me... of how we are one & the same. I was afraid of the confusion of duality... of facing yet again the inner question of "is it me or the projection of my mother?" (Twiggy says: is it me or is it memorex?) The resolution of this is simply to completely "own" Twiggy - I am Twiggy all grown up, now - and the "projections" that don't fit are being peeled off, like some old duct-tape holding together a frankenstein paper doll... covering the "real", authentic me/Twiggy.
This bit about "incorporation" is beginning to provide some insight into the inner loop of the double-bind of self-sabotage:
Once incorporated, it cannot be separated from me, but I can choose what to do with it, including destroying or expelling it. ... Freud used incorporation to refer to a primitive wish to unite with or cannibalistically destroy an object.
I'm working on this with Twiggy. The bolded part, is what I believe Twiggy longed for even while she was giving up and accepting the "self" that her mother was projecting on her. She hoped to be able to "pull a fast one" and deceive her mother long enough... to appear to be accepting the projections, like a "good girl"... but somehow be able to kill off the projected mother's self within herself, in the process. Twiggy has an accute sense of irony... and a fascination with alchemy... the four elements of earth, water, air and fire - especially fire, which has many symbolic meanings. I think, in her desperation to survive without the duality of the projections, she thought she could kill off the projected mother-self by smoking... but that plan backfired... and while it might serve as a "rationalization" for why I smoke, it simply has no relevance in the present, especially regarding "not smoking"... that will require "proof" to my unconscious self... that together we can remove the duct-tape paper doll... and that she's not ever going anywhere, ever again... and that we are one person; one personality; one and the same...
For someone to enmesh... that presupposes that there are two people. In this instance, there is only one... me. The "duality" that I still notice is mostly due to faded, peeling, flaking (and flaky) projections from my mother... and much of that got blasted off in the deep "seeing" I went through in the posts above. "Twiggy" is just a way to speak about "me" - before the abuse got extreme. There is yet a lot of sorting, tossing out, "setting on fire" to do; composting. But the task is now much simpler: what is useful NOW? and what is counter-productive - i.e, JUNK?
