. . . will return. I’m learning the check-in process and understanding the value in feeling and healing. The anger and helplessness I so skillfully tucked away in my childhood is unfolding as my Inner Child responds to my love for her, my Teenager trusts me, and my Critical Parent is satisfied that I am capable in the driver’s seat with HP in full charge of our navigation.
Why did I blow up in a rage over my little cousin not folding towels in the linen closet in color order? Why do I panic when someone else is driving? Why did I get so frustrated that I shoved my 4-year-old into a wall?
It took forever for me to learn how to ride a bike, but I had one and it still looked new after 3 years. One night my dad rode it to the bar because he was too drunk to drive. He crashed on the way home and my bike was scratched and scraped. He never said a word to me about it. My stuff didn’t matter.
Family barbecues at my grandma’s were always fun for me. The food was great and the liquor was plentiful. My non-drinking mom was the bell that stopped the festivities when she put a pot of coffee on the stove. Time to sober up the driver. My dad pronounced when he was ready to drive, and we all piled in the car for the 30 miles home. A drunk driver at the wheel.
We were all leaving very early in the morning to go camping. My dad had loaded a little boat on the roof and tied it down through the back seat windows. My brother and dad were already in the car, my brother in the back and my dad in the driver’s seat. My mom had not come out yet. It was my turn to get in. I was told I had to climb over the front seat. I was clumsy and having trouble going head first. No help came. I did feel the shove as I was hurled over the seat.
I was able to go back and visit that 10-year-old girl and feel with her the anger and bewilderment. Her stuff didn’t matter, she was not valued, her embarrassment didn’t matter. Dysfunction was valued over her feelings, her life, her dignity.
She cried her tears today. And if she gets sad again, I’ll be there to listen and comfort her. She deserved to be respected, valued, and protected then. She is now.
Reparenting is what ACA is all about. The Solution and the Promises are real and in reach. I can and will leave my victim self and my anger back where it should have been processed in the first place, when I was 10.