Last year my 4 year old daughter rode in a little yellow racecar with her grama. During the race, Grampa ran into them and injured Grama's shoulder a bit. No one was really hurt. The next morning when I said "Good morning, Princess." to my daughter she told me she wasn't a princess any more because she made Grama and Grampa crash. I kissed her and told her it wasn't she that caused the crash and that she would always be a princess. It was easy to fix. She had not heaped a lifetime of contempt on herself yet. She just needed to be told it wasn't her fault.
My mother sent me to a psychiatrist when I was growing up. Of course, when I had to leave class early to go see the shrink that in itself confirmed every week that there was something wrong with me. But, it took me years to see that what really kept the therapy from doing any good was that my doctor did not care about me. I didn't notice at the time, but now I know what it is like to be loved. And I know how easy it is to love children. She was indifferent. For 10 years of therapy she was indifferent. She was the only adult other than my mother that I was ever alone with. She was in a position to undo much of the harm done to me. Much of the harm I did to myself. I wish she had loved me.
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4 comments:
It's hard not to empathize with you. You articulate so well.
Children and their simple solutions to problems -- I wonder if we have unnecessarily strayed away from that as we've grown. Perhaps we just need to believe in the simple answers.
Then again, I wasn't appeased so easily as a kid.
dear overcomer
i just wanted to let you know that i think of you from time to time, think about your courage in writing this journal, and how your writing moved and inspired me, and sometimes i poke my head in to see if you've written more. i hope you are well and experiencing some of the happiness that you so deserve.
best wishes and blessings,
tw
oh god my heart is aching here.
That counselor is yet another impossible part of your story. Your mother picked a therapist for you that would enable your mom's shit.
The therapist could have made a difference if she had some integrity or depth or insight of any level. As it was she consumed thousands of dollars and created hours of shame - all without helping and just adding to your grief. If justice was served that counselor would have her license removed for concurring that you should go in a mental hospital when there was nothing wrong with you.
You pulled the weed of the lie quickly with our daughter. I wish someone had been there to pull the weeds - bucket loads of lies in your childhood.
Thanks for righting the wrongs now.
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