An Unexpected Trip to Restore a Child's Promise

[woodsgnome]

This turned out a bit long  ; but I can't master sound-bites and would never make it on twitter. I'm also just always insecure about 1)being understood and 2)being judged. In person, I can drive people batty 'cause I don't speed-talk; one reason I enjoyed stage acting—the audience had to hear me out—slow/fast, ponderous/witty. Funny how in that setting they can accept you better, though.  Enough explanation...here's my version of one surprising step I took along this long trail called recovery...

One of the mysteries on my recovery road has been finding a way to bring the earlier version of 'me' forward into the current situation. After several tries at revisiting 'the past', writing letters, that sort of thing, I always got stuck. Venturing near that child's pain, even if only in the mind, brought up so much associated grief that it only created overwhelming depression—no relief for either the inner child or the current self. Those  attempts seemed more like visiting an old neglected prison(er). And after a trip to the past, it was shut the doors and leave him alone in that hostile place. Inner child work, as it's called, still fascinated me, but I was at a loss how to find a way that would mitigate my previous stumbles.

Then one day I hit on this approach—bring the abandoned kid into my present world, not the other way 'round;  this leaves the past—his and mine--behind, out of reach where it belongs. This tale is my mind's view of that story.

To start the journey back, I allow my imagination to undertake a visit to some dimly lit rooms of a spooky fog-shrouded place. Perhaps its musty rooms are really metaphors for memories in need of wholesale cleaning—lots of dust and eeriness in there. On second thought, why clean them? It seems better to just let them rot away, seal the doors, and get out, post-haste. And continue the  task of unlearning what happened there. Alas, it seems like all the energy expended revisiting cycles back to more anxiety, pain, and intense grief. I need to leave this place, not feel obligated to go back there and figure it all out. I just need to get out. But...

...in the process of leaving that place for good, within the gloom I see a crestfallen boy, probably in his mid-teens, but whose exact age would be hard to figure, given the forlorn character I now find beside me. He's wary of me but seems to desperately need a kind and gentle person to trust. I can sense that need, he can't—he appears to have had any faith in humans destroyed. He'd be terrified of even the slightest of hugs or any touch, for now. My adult side has carried that reluctance forward, so I get it. Within his extreme shyness I surmise a strong but battered soul, almost bereft of hope that there are people who are kind, encouraging, enabling, smart. His natural childhood curiosity seems to have barely survived, as he's retreated into a hyper-vigilant distrust of anyone.

I notice he's been absent-mindedly clutching an old photo. Perhaps it explains the dark torment hovering  in his eyes. As he sets the photo down, I ask "Mind if I see?" He shrugs a timid assent; or was it a "who cares"?. Hesitating a moment, I pick it up and see it bears his likeness, shown standing with a group of young teens, and he looks pathethic, almost ghoulish. The others appear 'normal', and slightly amused by his sorry stature.

I've rarely seen such vivid sadness in a person as evidenced by this photo. He stands in precise and stark contrast to those around him. The image reveals a weariness/anxiety that bids to sink any spirit left in him; he doesn't just look lonely, he personifies it...someone ready to cry, but not fully; it already hurts too much.

The photo's glossy feel indicates it may have been ripped  from a high school yearbook. Hmm...did no one notice this lad's desperation, I wonder? Did anyone reach out to a youth showing such obvious distress? Who would even see fit to include such a picture in a volume of supposed treasured memories? It's almost like piling on another level of shame. Seeing how the boy winces at my even viewing the photo, I gather he probably had no help. I lay the picture down again, but he grabs it, rips it, and throws it into an unlit fireplace. That decides it--I cannot leave this bedraggled kid here; I could never forgive myself knowing that I'd left him in such misery.

Reluctant as he is, I sense that he's unsure if I'm worthy of trust, for once. My reluctance matches his—but then I've never seen such intense pain/grief in anyone before, either. And so I ask him if he'd like to go with me. The slowly-built trust level allows for his affirmative, if whisperlike, response...without uttering the actual words, his weary eyes are witness to what he can't put in words: "please...help...please...be gentle...don't betray me...I need you, whoever you are".

To truly help him, I must take him beyond, without drawing attention to us. Dimly moving down a long hall past all those musty rooms, we find what looks to be an unused door; carefully creaking it open, we see a  trail leading out of a fog towards a steep riverbank, with a canoe seemingly ready for departure; a scene beckoning us to a new adventure. It feels like we're time travelers, eventually arriving at a forest clearing where I live, in present time. Home.

The trap would be to retreat; I'd be ensnared by the same gloom of that musty place. So I need to bring him forward too. He still seems wary, if vaguely  hopeful, as I'm probably different from the others—the ones we leave in the dust of his/our sad past; in those dank, dust-choked rooms. He is no longer destined for all the confused agony of that place and its inhabitants. I know this was best, for him and me, to have rescued him from their smirking, brutal hypocrisy. I feel my hand being squeezed tighter, unusual for a teen, but this is no usual guy.

Oh, that this might be real...and not some cruel trick. But even if it's just imagination's fancy, it can at least reorient my adult self to incorporate this child's interrupted promise into the process of recovery. I'm rather friendless as it is these days, and here he is, at my door, as if to say, "I need you, too...thanks, fella". Is that a twinkle in his eye? He's already changing...

And so it goes; I'm not even sure if I still make the distinction of then/now in this 'relationship' with that part we call the inner child. Rather it seems to be about becoming a whole person, no matter how the psyche differentiates the roles we play on the stage of one person's life story.

[Dutch Uncle]

Wow. Beautiful.

Thanks for sharing. It's inspiring. 

[Kizzie]

That is so lovely Woodsgnome.  I've experienced something similar, a dreamlike feeling of walking hand in hand with younger me into the present and becoming more connected, of parts merging into a greater sense of wholeness.  It has so been worth the journey.

[Danaus plexippus]

That is an excellent visualization. Make it into a YouTube. I'd give you a 

[Blackbird]

This is amazing

In light of this, and with the inability to speak to my inner child, I did a Youtube meditation just to start getting connected to her and it worked. I'm filled with love right now, and I have you (and youtube channel) to thank for 

[Babysister]

This post is beautiful and lyrical thank you Woodsgbome
What a Yuge-just kidding- gigantic step for you and your younger emotional self-
I don't think you need twitter as a platform, i really enjoyed reading this interesting deeply connective post. The more you make your emotionsl self-all of you-birth to however old you are now-happy-the healthier you become. Ain't healing grand when it isn't filked with pain? Though pain is necessary i prefer the times i am nurturing and fullfilling my passions which calms my nervous system.
Today i saw so many sea creatures it was amazing. I climbed on the cliffs by the ocean out to the rocks where the cormorants dry there wings and saw so many creatures it was amazing. I will modify this post this once i have accurately discerned the snake variety i saw among ng others.
I think yo found the secret which is to see that your connection to nature will heal you.
I an an aethete  nature is breathtakingly beautiful, especially the seascapes.
I am not in nature - writing mode when i post on these forums-i give myself a break from work. Suffice to say that i am overwhelmed by the beauty of the myriad creatures that populate this Earth. They love me and feed my soul. The gull glides above the cliffs enjoying the the beauty of the seascape below with its cliffs jutting into the sea and brilliantly striated rocks, as i do sitting upon them. It's amazing and at the same time like the gull offers me new perspective on the drama of the narcissist in my life.