Notes For Middle B

[Bach]

In my journal post this morning, I wrote this:

The thing that confuses and distresses Middle B so much is that most of the things that bloody woman says are either partially true, or true but without context, or are wild misinterpretations of truth.  I could give examples of this but it would wind me up too much, and poor Middle B needs some rest.

Middle B wants examples because she wants to fully understand what I mean by this.  She wants me to write about it so that I can help her understand why she wasn’t such a bad kid, and to help me be able to defend her and the other B’s in case there are more letters to the therapist in the future.  I agree with Middle B that this is a good idea, especially because it will help her trust me with decisions about when to say what to TBW and let me do my job instead of getting us into trouble by freaking out.  She wants anyone reading this to know that most of these are her words but she doesn’t want to write this herself, and she doesn’t want me to put quotations marks all over this. 

She wasn’t sure whether any of this is okay.  I told her that it is.  She doesn’t really trust me.  I told her that’s okay, too.  So I’m going to post explanations for her in this thread, starting with an example of a wild misinterpretation of truth that I started to write about this morning before I realised I needed to let her settle.

During the first summer that I lived with my father, I was forbidden to be alone with my beloved step-cousin J, with whom I had previously enjoyed a close relationship on my visits to my father’s house.  J and I were around the same age, had known each other since the age of around 6 when my father married my stepmother, and had always been physically affectionate with each other in a purely innocent kid-ways.  One evening after a family gathering in which J had sat on my lap  because there weren’t enough chairs in the living room when my younger sister and her friend gave a “ballay show” in the living room, I was told that I was “overly familiar” with her, and that this was unacceptable.  I was deeply hurt and angry about this, especially because I didn’t see why my hugging J, or having her sitting on my lap (she sat on my lap because I was physically significantly larger than she was) was any different from my younger half-sister or baby half-brother doing that.  I was either told outright or came to believe that J had complained about me.  Many years later, as an adult, I discovered that my closeness with J had been discouraged and us being alone forbidden was because when I went to live with my father, TBW told my father that my best friend V and I had been having a sexual relationship, and so everyone was worried that I had sexual intent towards J.  After I found this out, I asked my mother what on earth had made her think that V and I had had a sexual relationship.  She said “You told me!  I asked you what you and V did when you were together and you said that you fool around.”  I said “Yes, so?”  and she said “Everyone knows that ‘fooling around’ really means having sex”.  I replied “Not to a 12 year old!”  V and I used to do arts and crafts, and play with Breyer horses.  Go roller skating.  Play board games.  And we were physically affectionate with each other too, again, in purely innocent kid-ways.  But TBW was obsessed with sex (she used to tell me about how good a lover my stepfather was, not in explicit detail, but still!), and so to her, physical affection must have meant sex.  So she pounced on my innocent kid-words that were intended to serve as a blanket description of a bunch of kid-stuff to confirm what her dirty mind came up with.  It hurt me and furthered my guilt, shame and isolation. 

J loved me.  I did not make her uncomfortable.  She never complained about me.  She told me so herself when I saw her about five years ago and we talked about why we hadn’t stayed in touch over the years.  If only I had known sooner!

[rainydiary]

Bach, I read your letter.  Thank you for sharing this.

[Bach]

Rainy, thank you for reading it. It was scary to write but it also felt kind of good.

[Tee]

  innocent hug if that's ok middle B, I'm sorry that others put bad intent into your innocent play and friendships. I hear frustration and disappoint in your letter. You are safe here and can trust Bach as well. Again gentle hugs of understanding. If that's ok.

[Armee]

Oh that story about people misconstruing a child's use of the phrase "fooling around" just makes me feel so sick and sad and angry.

[Blueberry]

 

I grew up in a family where words were often misconstrued so I know how frustrating and hurtful and maddening it is. If it feels OK, I'm standing with you Middle B. If it feels too much, then just know I care.

[Snowdrop]

That's awful. You were just innocent kids being innocent kids. It sounds to me as though TBW might have been projecting her stuff onto you, which is deeply unfair. It must have been so hurtful.

I'm glad you were able to have that conversation with J five years ago.

[Not Alone]

Middle B, it makes me angry that your words, "fooling around," were taken that way. And at the age of twelve, if that was their interpretation of you and friend V "fooling around," alarms bells should have gone off in their heads. They should have gently asked what you meant by or what you did when you "fooled around." So sad that an innocent statement was misinterpreted and your relationship with your step-cousin J was discouraged.

[Bach]

Middle B, the thing you must understand is that your mother wanted to think the worst of you, not because you were a bad kid at all but because of her sickness.  She said in her letter to her therapist that at 12 you were "drawn to the drug scene with your friend V and picking up men in Washington Square Park".  It's true that during the last year you lived in the city with your mother and stepfather, V was in many ways a bad influence on you.  She was a year older than you were, and although she was shown more love and indulgence than you were, she received almost as little supervision.  I know that she got the idea to smoke pot from her hippie parents, and once she taught you how you absolutely loved it, but that never amounted to anything beyond you and V smoking whatever scraps she could steal from her parents.  Your being drawn to the possibility of drugs for the relief of your constant emotional pain didn't come from V or from you.  It came from your mother.  Mostly from those anxious Sunday nights when you couldn't sleep, and after hours of tossing and turning trying to relax and drift off, trying to solve the problem before reaching the point at which you couldn't stand it anymore and would do the thing you knew you must not do unless you absolutely had to; get up, trudge down those halls to her bedroom door, softly, reluctantly knock, and tell her of your plight if she answered, which she didn't always do.  If she answered and you were lucky, she would give you a Valium to put you to sleep.  If you weren't lucky, she'd say something passingly sympathetic and send you back to your room to try again.  So to describe you as "drawn to the drug scene" as if you were out looking for trouble is neither fair nor accurate.

V was problematic.  She loved you and you loved her, but once she got into her teens, she was a bit of a juvenile delinquent.  She taught you to shoplift and write graffiti.  But there was certainly no picking up of men in Washington Square or any other park.  I believe that must have come from your mother's lurid imagination.  The only possible explanation for that I can think of is that there was one afternoon when you and V somehow ended up in the apartment of a man who lived across the hall from your apartment in the University faculty housing.  That man must have been a member of the University faculty, as your stepfather and V's stepfather were, because otherwise he would not have been living in that apartment, so you probably met him somewhere at the University, which was, of course, all around Washington Square Park.  Your going to his house probably was inappropriate, and he may in fact have done something inappropriate with V after you left, but you didn't know anything about that.  You were indeed innocent.  I think you probably didn't want to be, but you were. 

I know you feel very embarrassed and ashamed about all of this, and that you feel like I'm making excuses for you that you don't deserve.  I know that you believe that it was all your fault.  I know that you believe it's dishonest and weak to say it wasn't your fault, and that you think that you must accept responsibility for everything or people will hate you and you will suffer and suffer and suffer and die, but it's not like that.  It's not that simple.  You feel that you should have known better because you were always told how intelligent you are, and the idea that you are intelligent was presented to you as if intelligence by itself is enough, but you were never taught anything.  You were left to figure it all out for yourself based on guesswork, unpredictable results, inconsistent responses, and an ocean of faulty assumptions based on that lack of reliable information.  With trial and error, while you played with a deck that was both incomplete and stacked against you.  You did the very best you could based on what you had available.  As soon as you reached adulthood and had the fortune to come across a value system that made sense to you, you delved into it with your whole self and started to work on teaching yourself everything you had not been taught.  You have never stopped.  That is us, and it started with you.  I love you, Middle B, and all of the Bs you were and are now.  I love you. 

[BeeKeeper]

Beautiful letter with crystal clear vision.

[Snowdrop]

You've put this so well.

[Armee]

You did the very best you could based on what you had available.  As soon as you reached adulthood and had the fortune to come across a value system that made sense to you, you delved into it with your whole self and started to work on teaching yourself everything you had not been taught.  You have never stopped.  That is us, and it started with you.  I love you, Middle B, and all of the Bs you were and are now.  I love you.

This is so beautiful and true and holds power for me, too. Thank you for sharing this. It needs to become part of what I tell myself, too.

I'm sorry your mom gave you valium, instead of helping you.

[Not Alone]

Beautiful, strong, tender and powerful.

Your being drawn to the possibility of drugs for the relief of your constant emotional pain didn't come from V or from you.  It came from your mother. 

  So to describe you as "drawn to the drug scene" as if you were out looking for trouble is neither fair nor accurate.


You were indeed innocent.  I think you probably didn't want to be, but you were. 

My mom-heart is also yelling, "You were a child." You may not have felt you were because in many ways you were left on your own, but 12/13 is a child. Ironic that your mom blames you, because the real question is, Where was she???

I know you feel very embarrassed and ashamed about all of this, and that you feel like I'm making excuses for you that you don't deserve.  I know that you believe that it was all your fault.  I know that you believe it's dishonest and weak to say it wasn't your fault, and that you think that you must accept responsibility for everything or people will hate you and you will suffer and suffer and suffer and die, but it's not like that.  It's not that simple.  You feel that you should have known better because you were always told how intelligent you are, and the idea that you are intelligent was presented to you as if intelligence by itself is enough, but you were never taught anything.  You were left to figure it all out for yourself based on guesswork, unpredictable results, inconsistent responses, and an ocean of faulty assumptions based on that lack of reliable information.  With trial and error, while you played with a deck that was both incomplete and stacked against you.  You did the very best you could based on what you had available.  As soon as you reached adulthood and had the fortune to come across a value system that made sense to you, you delved into it with your whole self and started to work on teaching yourself everything you had not been taught.  You have never stopped.  That is us, and it started with you.  I love you, Middle B, and all of the Bs you were and are now.  I love you. 

This is so beautiful and precious.

[Bach]

Middle B has some things she wants to say to TBW but she can’t speak.  She can’t speak because the weight of the world is on her chest.  She has no right to speak because everything is her fault.  She’s bad and wrong and crazy and everything she does hurts people.  She thinks that she needs to die and that will make everything better for everyone, but she also knows that for some reason that she can’t fathom and no one can explain to her that she absolutely MUST NOT die.  She wants to be happy and well and be a good girl but she just can’t seem to figure out how to, and it is her fault.  She is bad and wrong and crazy.  No matter what she tries, it doesn’t work, and it is ALL HER FAULT.  She is CRAZY, and nothing can be done with her!  That makes her want to die.  But she knows that she absolutely MUST NOT die, even though she can’t figure out why.  She doesn’t understand.  It hurts so badly.  She must not die, she must STAY ALIVE AND SUFFER.  Why?  Why, why, why?  To pay for her sins, maybe?  Because she’s bad and wrong and crazy and makes everyone suffer so much?  She never meant to be a bad girl.  She doesn’t know what to do.  She doesn’t understand any of it.  She feels it, and it doesn’t make sense to her, and it not making sense to her BURNS.  And makes her want to die.  But she doesn’t want to die because she wants to do fun stuff and be good at drawing pictures and making clay and grow up and be pretty and be loved and be happy, and everybody keeps telling her that those things will happen when she grows up, but she doesn’t know if that’s ever really going to happen.  Grow up?  Take care of herself?  Be good at things?  Be happy?  Be loved?  There’s no way she’ll be able to do that.  Supposedly that’s going to happen, just HAPPEN because she’ll get older and grow up and it will HAPPEN, but she can’t imagine it and trying to believe in it is terrifying.  It’s all so confusing!  Surely that stuff isn’t going to happen because she’s BAD and WRONG and CRAZY and she’s going to die before it can.  It would be easier to just die now and not have to try to face any more of this.

I don’t know how to help her.

[Armee]

Hi Middle B. I wish i could use my real name with you. Tell you "Hi, I'm ____. I also have those exact same thoughts about myself. In the exact same order. I'm bad I'm wrong. I'm crazy. It's my fault." I know those things aren't really true about myself. I'm actually the opposite of all those things but when I believe them I believe them really strongly.

I think maybe we both were made to think those things about ourselves to protect ourselves and to protect others. I know when ever I start to feel a strong emotion that has to do with someone else being not nice or hurting me, those thoughts "I'm wrong bad crazy (and for me add "stupid and disgusting" too) get really loud and insistent. I think they are just trying to distract me from feeling those other feelings. I'm trying to tell myself it is ok to feel those other things, too. I'm sorry you have to feel those bad things about yourself that are not true to protect yourself and other people. That's not fair. You deserve to see and feel truth...that you already are good and kind and are not crazy are not bad you are not wrong. You do need to live. You deserve to live. You are good and right.