Nourishing The Inner Child

Ice Cream is Part of a Balanced Diet!

(CW:  This one is going to be a downer, so if you’re not in that headspace, catch me on the next one.  Take care of yourself.)

Today, I focus on hope and healing, finding my inner peace.  A long time ago, I did not have hope, and I would not have believed you if you told me that healing is possible.  A long time ago, there was no one in my corner.  The darkness was thick and heavy, and I couldn't fight it. I was lost.

People talk about trauma and PTSD.  I’ve read studies about how the degree to which people are impaired by trauma vs those who overcome it is inversely proportional to the amount of external emotional support they receive.  Resilience is the most cited ingredient to a healthy recovery, and resilience comes primarily through having a support person, or people.

That revelation knocked me over.  Through all the heavy stuff that happened when I was a kid, there was no one there for me. Later, when I was a young bride, I was isolated, and again the person who was in the house with me was the opposite of supportive. 

The hardest part, the biggest “anti-resilience” builder came from people outside of the situation.  If you’re a child, people will say, “Of course your mother loves you!”  If you’re a wife, they will say, “I know him, and he wouldn’t do that.  You’re exaggerating.  You’re overreacting.”   

It is said that sexual assault and domestic violence victims, as well as some child abuse victims, are traumatized twice – once by the act itself and the second time by the people who refuse to believe it happened in the first place.  I’ve experienced this first-hand. 

My thought is that people live in a world of their own understanding.  We all encounter things we don’t completely understand so we put our own explanations to it and keep moving.  Later, when exposed to new information, we either accept it as a revelation or deny it and keep the status quo in our minds.  When confronted with terrible news that contradicts what we believe, we might reject that news to keep our minds, and our self-manufactured worlds, from being shattered. That’s called “cognitive dissonance.”

This is how I reconcile the instances of having my truth rejected by adults when I was a child and by friends when I was an adult.  They could not integrate this new information into their pre-conceived beliefs, so they rejected it outright.  At the time, I thought they were rejecting me along with the truth.  Later, I believed they were collaborating with my abuser and gaslighting me.  Now, I have reached the understanding that each one of us houses a fragile self who cannot always embrace new information which conflicts with our previous beliefs.  They had to choose between protecting themselves or protecting me, and mammals are programmed to protect themselves first.

If you are being abused, and people don’t believe you when you tell them, you’re talking to the wrong people.  It’s not you.  It’s them.  They have something to gain by not believing you, even if it’s as simple as not having to be inconvenienced.  Seek help from someone without a stake in the outcome.  (There’s are links at the bottom of this page.)

It took one damn good therapist, a couple decent ones, and a whole parade of poor ones who supplied a lot of misdiagnoses, plus a library full of self-help books, to help me unlearn all my negative programming.  What I really wish I had at that time was someone to tell me it was going to be okay, to give me hope.

That’s only part of my story.  As I like to say, “Once I got my head together, my heart fell apart.” 

Once I decided to focus on my future, I got divorced and took the LSAT with a plan of going to law school.  Then I crashed into heart failure and sudden cardiac death.  I had a total of three cardiac arrests, a pulmonary embolism, and a stroke.  I couldn’t walk, swallow food or water, or speak.  Several months in the hospital ended with me being discharged with a walker and a feeding tube.  I weighed less than 100 pounds.

But I’m stubborn.  That’s caused as many problems for me as it has solved.  I kept at my physical therapy every day, eventually erasing most of my deficits.  I have a little red bracelet stamped with the words, “Maximum Effort.”  I wore that to my PT sessions. 

"Maximum Effort" bracelet. Deadpool fans, IYKYK.

I also have a silver cuff bracelet a friend gave to me.  It’s too big for my tiny wrists but I love the message!

Keep fucking going!

Despite not having much human support for most of my life, I always had a dog to keep me going. Early on, it was Tippy Tim and Snoopy. For my first heart transplant, I had Mallory Knox.  For the second, it was Gidget McFidget. 

Mallory Knox and Gidget McFidget.

And I always had myself.  I decided early on in therapy that I would become the adult I needed as a child.  I would parent my own inner child.  I took myself to the movies, out for ice cream, to the park.  My dogs became my children, and I cared for them as well.

When I received my first heart transplant, I learned that my donor was a young man still in his teens.  His mother told me that he loved chocolate, so I made sure to have a little piece of chocolate every night just for him.

The identity of my second heart donor remains unknown.  Some information had to be provided to me so I could make an informed decision on whether or not to accept the heart.  I know that she was young, under 18, and passed from a heroin overdose.  Based on some things I gleaned from listening to the staff, I surmised that she was runaway.  A teenage runaway, just like I had been.

I accepted the heart. Her heart lives in me, and I’m her new mother.  I take her for ice cream.  We get my nails done and go to Target to grab a Frappuccino and sniff scented candles.  A lifelong Black Sabbath fan, I’ve been listening to a little bit of Taylor Swift, along with In This Moment – “Sex Metal Barbie” is a banger.

The biggest thing I’ve learned through this long, strange journey is that love is necessary for survival, but the most important source is learning to love yourself.

If you or someone you love is struggling, help is available. 

Domestic Violence Support | National Domestic Violence Hotline (thehotline.org)

Netflix Resources | Find Information, Resources, and Support | Home (wannatalkaboutit.com)

(I know it’s a Netflix page, but they have some seriously good information and links to tons of resources for DV and mental healthcare.)

Until next time, take care of yourself. Take your inner child out for an ice cream cone, or sushi if that’s your thing. Let me know below what you decide to have. Personally, I’m getting tacos!

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