Woah. I’m sitting in my bathtub, brushing my hair while it has conditioner in it and I’m listening to music. A song starts playing that reminds of a very unstable time in my life, both because of content and the fact that I would have listened to it back then. Unstable more in a relationship way then a just me off the rails type of way.
Anyway, I’m listening and I’m singing and I’m overcome by a feeling if nostalgia. Like I am literally experiencing a longing for that time. Now, there were definitely good times then, life is complex, it’s never all bad but … That is not what I’m feeling longing for. There is some part of me that misses the intensity, the drama of that life. WTF? Trauma is wild.
Having been sick for so long, I’m not surprised by the feeling of missing a time where I felt much more alive. I also had better access to my emotions at that time. Like a lot of people, in attempting to heal my emotional instability, I’ve swung too far in the opposite direction, I’m all bound up. I’m aware of this. I’m working on it. It is interesting that this part isn’t longing for a future where I can feel my feels in a healthy manner but instead a past that was intensely painful. Huh? I think I may need to do some inquiring as to the needs of that part of me. Interesting.
Upon my return, my dog’s greeting would seem to indicate that either, I am the most important, awe inspiring human being on the planet, or this occasion, my return, is the greatest thing that has ever happened in her life.
I get the same reaction when I get up in the morning. Every morning. It’s like she can’t believe she had to go an entire night without my presence. She wiggles. She dances. She whines if I start to walk away.
I understand that this is what dogs do. When a dog loves someone, they love them with all of their energy. Their entire being. This is typical dog behavior yet, somehow, I have trouble buying it.
When my son was an infant, I often googled (more times than I’d like to admit) things along the lines of – why does my baby love me? Why does my baby love me so much? Why is my baby obsessed with me?
Again, I understand that I am his mom. He’s gonna love me no matter what. The little dude didn’t really have a choice in the matter. Human babies tend to love their mom’s, whether that mom deserves it or not. It’s a matter of survival but …
I had a hard time buying it.
There is some part of me that believes, whole heartedly, that not only am I not worthy of love but that I am expendable, invisible, non existent. Every time some one from my past recognizes me, it blows my fucking mind. I truly believe that I am not memorable.
I can, of course, trace this back to my childhood. I could lay it all out for you, all the reasons I think I came to believe this but right now, I don’t want to. I only want to say that my heart aches for that child. The girl who felt so insignificant in her life and with those meant to love her that she’s carried that belief with her as her foundation of being. My heart aches for her and all of those other children carried in the hearts and bodies of adults who’s still feel unseen.
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago… Not really but I can’t remember exactly when so… I heard of this thing called ring theory. I can’t remember how or where, I may have read about it or watched something that was talking about it. I don’t know. What I do know is that when I heard about it, I thought, yes!!!! This is exactly what I’ve been trying to explain to those around me, all summed up in a neat and tidy, easily understandable package.
I’m just gonna quote this article here, rather then try and explain it myself.
“Susan Silk, a clinical psychologist, and her friend Barry Goldman came up with the concept of Ring Theory, after Susan’s experience with breast cancer. Susan noticed that during her journey with breast cancer, people close to her (as well as, complete strangers), though often well-intentioned, would vent or in an attempt to “fix her situation” by giving their opinions to her. However, what Susan needed most when she was suffering was not their emotions about her experience, but rather their comfort. Hence, the idea of Ring Theory was born. Ring Theory is essentially the idea that a person experiencing trauma and grief needs a specific kind of support during their time of crisis….
The rules of Ring Theory are pretty simple and can be explained in four words, “Comfort In. Dump Out.” Here is how it works. Whoever is in the centermost of the rings gets to whine, complain, cry and vent as much as they want and need to. As Silk states, “That’s the one payoff for being in the center ring.”
The people in the other rings can also express their feelings and concerns. However, the one distinction is with whom they can process those emotions. That is where the concept of “dumping out”, comes into play. The people surrounding the person in the innermost circle express their negative feelings and anxieties only to people in the larger rings. It’s not that you are not allowed to grieve or feel, it is just that venting about your pain to someone who is already feeling their pain deeply is not helpful to you or them.”
You would think that this would be common sense… Or at least I would think that… But apparently it is not. Living with chronic illness, it’s been a common experience for me, to have loved ones vent their fears and the things that suck, basically, about my having this illness, on me. Like WTF? Yes, I understand how my illness affects your life and that that is hard for you but hello… Do you not get how much harder this is for me. I’m the one who has to live with this illness. It feels completely unfair and inappropriate. Like I an being asked to hold others grief while simultaneously trying to process mine. Anyway you go about it, the message is clear. I am a problem, a burden, ruining other people’s lives.
Currently, I’m going through something that I’m not yet ready to talk about publicly. I’ll be fine but I’m in a constant state of stress… confusion, fear, grief, anxiety…trauma. I have been judged, shamed, yelled and screamed at… abandoned, by those who are supposed to love me. Again, I understand the affect on your life but… It isn’t ok to expect me to be able to hold it while I’m processing my own trauma.
I’m basically a walking meltdown at the moment. My tolerance level is beyond miniscule.
*Sigh* Try and remember, if you care about someone, and want to prevent traumatizing then further… comfort in, dump out. Comfort in. Dump out.
I’ve been having chest pain since covid, it got worse with a few accompanying symptoms that made me think it would be best to get checked. I’m fine. I don’t want to talk about that now.
What I do want to talk about is trauma. No, not really, more just the impact.
My son woke up when I was getting ready to leave in the ambulance. He clung to me and cried. He didn’t want me to and was obviously scared. I hugged him and told him that I was ok but I don’t feel very well and the doctor needed to look at me but if be back soon. He cried. He clung. I had a hard time letting him go. I think having to pry him off of me and give him to my mom while he was in so much distress hurt my chest more then the pain I was having.
In the ambulance the EMT asked about my son… His name, age, if he’s my only child…. And then he said “he sure is spoiled isn’t he”.
I was taken completely off guard but it felt like a kick to the chest. I wanted to say, “no, he’s not. He’s three and was woken in the middle of the night to his mom leaving in an ambulance. He’s scared and rightfully so you. Have a little compassion, asshole”.
Do you know how I actually responded? A polite laugh, suggesting that he was right, my son is spoiled.
What does that have to do with trauma? My relationships, starting at birth have taught me that it’s best to be polite when confronted with negativity. It’s how you stay safe.
There have been times I’m my life where I have had other reactions, some also from trauma and some more authentic but right now … I have become so conditioned to be in fear that I sold my son out.
Fuck that. The more I become aware of just how often I fawn, the more motivated I become to heal. For myself. For my son. For everyone.
