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Archive for the ‘Inner Child’ Category

This blog entry is completely based on the point of view of my wounded (devastated) inner child, Annie. I cannot stop crying and haven’t for two days, and it is all because of Annie’s pain. The adult me knows that my actions and reactions are not “appropriate” ones for an adult, but Annie doesn’t give a shit. This blog entry is for her. I am posting it now, even though I have already posted today, hoping that somebody can get through to Annie because I cannot. All I can do is give her a voice. ~ Faith

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Everyone lied to me. They said it was all my fault, and I believed them. They said that they would be there for me when I needed them, but they aren’t mind readers – I have to tell them that I need them. So, I did. I told them that this period between the full moon and the summer solstice would be hard. I told them that I wasn’t sleeping and that, when I did, it was all nightmares. I told them that I was triggered by some day-to-day adult stuff that I don’t know how to handle – I am just a little girl who has been betrayed by everyone.

I thought there was someone in my corner, but they lied to me. They said that if I told them that I needed them, they would be there … but they weren’t. They said all I had to do was reach out and they would help me. I did reach out – I reached out to eight different people – but nobody was there. I needed someone to catch my fall but, as always, there was no one to catch my fall.

I have heard that, when you fall in your dreams, you cannot hit the ground because you will wake up first. That isn’t true. I do fall and hit the ground in my dreams, just like I fall and hit the ground when I am awake. There is no one to catch me. There has never been anyone to catch me.

I hate them for giving me hope. At least before, I knew I was alone. I knew it was up to me and me alone, as a little girl, to figure out how to be OK. They lied to me and said I wasn’t alone anymore, but I still am. All I needed was one person – just one person – to hold my hand, but there wasn’t a hand to hold … and I fell.

I am so tired of falling. I want to die, but Faith won’t let me, and I hate her for it. She won’t stop me from falling, either. Nobody can stop it. Nobody is there. I am tired of being all alone. I would rather die than keep falling, and I don’t want any more lies about not being alone because I am. I believed them, and they weren’t there. I won’t make that mistake again.

Everyone is always sorry after the fact. Sorry you were raped, Annie. Sorry I wasn’t there for you, but I am here now. I don’t need you now. I needed you then, and you weren’t there. Nobody was ever there, and nobody ever will be there. I hate all of you, including Faith. She’s the biggest liar of all because she said I would be OK, and she was wrong. There is only one way to be OK, and she won’t let me die.

Photo credit: Hekatekris

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Last week was not a good week for me. I have a lot going on in my life right now, and I could handle the surface stuff if I was not getting triggered on a regular basis. It feels as if I cannot overcome one trigger before another knocks me off my feet again.

My seven-year-old son has ADHD, which causes him to have poor impulse control. His first medication has already stopped working, so we are in the process of trying a second medication. This whole experience has been very triggering to me.

For some reason, I have a difficult time separating my son from my inner child. I know logically that my son is not my inner child, but whenever I feel out of control in what is going on in my son’s life, I have a difficult time separating out his issues from my own emotionally.

For example, my son is seven years old, which is the same age that I was when I was vaginally raped for the first time. Because of this, his 7th birthday triggered me. I felt that I was free falling emotionally but did not know why.

Last week, the doctor told me not to medicate my son so his body could rest between medications. My son’s behaviors have been wild, and this triggers me because I fear that I cannot keep him safe. With no impulse control and hyperactivity, you can imagine the challenges in keeping a child physically safe.

On top of this, the doctor’s office did not fax over necessary paperwork for my son to receive the medication at school, so I had to make three separate trips to the doctor’s office last week (which is across town) to get this taken care of. This also triggered me into believing that my son was not “safe” because his doctor was not “protecting” him.

In my head, I know that my son is safe. Nobody has ever abused him, and he has me to keep him safe. However, in my heart, I have trouble separating out the two. When I see that I cannot “control” his safety (such as having to rely on others to medicate him), I feel unable to keep him safe, which triggers my own issues of being unable to keep myself safe as a child.

I can look at all of this logically and understand why I am reacting the way that I am, but understanding this does little to soothe the wounded child inside. It has been real challenge lately.

Photo credit: Lynda Bernhardt

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Girl with pail (c) Lynda BernhardtOn my post Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) and Alter Parts, a reader wrote the following comment:

Hello all, I had a psychologist try to connect me to the 5-year old me and talk to her. But I only could see her, not communicate. It felt like there was a wall between us and that there was nothing I could do or say to protect her. Anyone else have a similar experience? -CS

Yes, I have experienced this a number of times.

My first experience with my inner child came years before I recognized that I had a lot of healing work to do. I was still in college when I had a disturbing dream. I saw a dark, vast room that had nothing in it except an ugly child. The child was hideously ugly – so ugly that I could not even determine the child’s gender. Its face was burned and splotchy red, and it only had a few wisps of hair on the top of its head. I was repulsed by it, but I could also sense that it needed to be loved. So, I walked up to it and hugged it, feeling repulsed the entire time. As soon as I touched it, it started screaming these horrible, blood-curdling screams, and I jerked awake with my heart racing.

Since then, I have has much more focused ways of reaching out to different parts of myself.

The barrier that you are experiencing is your own denial. You have separated from this part of yourself because you do not want to face the pain that this part of yourself holds. To embrace her is to embrace her memories, emotions, and feelings. You separated yourself because those experiences were too painful to face. When you are ready to accept her as you, you will break down those barriers.

One thing that worked for me to was to find a picture of myself at that age. When I first looked at the picture, I hated what I saw. It took me a while to push through my initial self-loathing. I had to think of this little girl as someone standing on the street rather than as “me.” As I distanced myself in this way, I was able to recognize how tiny her hands and feet were and see the sadness in her eyes. As I looked at her this way, I was able to develop compassion for her, which really was compassion for myself. This is how I broke through my barrier.

Related Topic:

Does an Abused Adopted Child Have an “Inner Child”?

Photo credit: Lynda Bernhardt

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