Do you want to know what's weird about this whole healing journey? I can't remember most of my childhood, but every now and then, I'll be at the store or the chiropractor and then remember how my mom told me when I was 13 months old, she put me in a home daycare. When she came to pick me up, she found me in a dark room crying my eyes out. When she opened the door, I looked scared—like my eyes needed to adjust due to being in the dark all day. But then I also remember when I was 5 and so on. When I would melt down, I'd get put in a room to calm down. But, I didn't want to calm down. I wanted an adult to help me navigate the emotions I couldn't name and the feelings that felt too big in my body. They would send me back time and time again. They would hold the door so I couldn't leave. Eventually, I'd stop banging on the door, asking to be let out, and I'd fall asleep from exhaustion.
As I got older, I would still seek my mother. It never worked. Instead of her sending me to my room, I sent myself. One time, I was able to say it. "Why don't you like me when I'm feeling these emotions? Why do you detach and stonewall me? Why won't you help me? I just need your help, " she'd say, "I can't talk to you when you're like this. You need to calm down, and then we can talk." I understand why she said it. It is hard to talk to a person who is emotionally high. But if I leave and deal with it on my own, I'm not coming back. There's no point. It was fine that she did it to me as I got older. But working with kids has taught me something. They need us adults during those big emotions. It's their first time here. They don't know. Maybe you can't talk to them while they are very upset. But the solution is not leaving them alone. It's a getting down on their level, a gentle "Hey, I can see you're so sad right now. I get sad, too sometimes. It's okay. I'm going to take a deep breath. Oh, I'm glad you decided to take one with me! Does your body need a hug?" And opening your arms as an invitation. Yeah, sure, the little ones can't talk back, but they feel seen by you. They feel loved. Every time I get to do that for them, it makes the little girl inside of me scream and cry, "What about me?" Because what about me? I'm an adult now. I don't know how to help her. I don't know how to help me.
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Paracosm
Poetry{PAR-uh-kahz-um} (n.) A detailed imaginary world created in the mind, often as a means of escape or solace, filled with its own people, places, and stories. | this book is quite the contrast. I shared my thoughts a really long time ago. I'll start...
