I reblog here a post from a couple of years ago from my RealityvBliss blogspot blog which I can no longer access for lack of being able to “talk” to someone at Google. If anyone knows a way to escape the round of sending a message which may or may not be responded to by a drone I would greatly appreciate the heads up.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Hi, AZ! Lovely Weather, eh?
I did a search in the last few days: “not in control of my beliefs”. My jaw dropped when I ran across a site called Thrive with bipolar disorder. And it dropped further when the site administrator talked about “how my beliefs about not getting my needs met, got in the way of asking for what I need in life: strategies for thriving with bipolar disorder”.
She talked about events/circumstances in life are not what cause us the difficulties we associate with them, but rather the stories we tell ourselves about those events/circumstances. I’ve been hearing and picking up on that a number of years now. I’ve even matured in the concept enough to grasp (sometimes) “gee, I need to change the story I’m telling myself about this”. Processing that just now makes me think the old adage “your folks (whomever you think wronged you, spouse or siblings or . . .) did the best they could with what they had” came about as an attempt to assuage the harm of some of those stories we end up tell ourselves with regards to these people who bear such sway in our lives. Anyway, I’m to the point in my life where it sounds like a good idea to me to post a sign “what’s the story I’m running through my brain now” so I can change it, various place in my home kind of like a par course.
She, her name is Robin Mohilner, related a story about her mother going back to work after she was born and how that has affected her all her life. The thing is: she realized she’d been wrong, but she hadn’t known she was wrong. Imagine that? Imagine the breakthrough that is to realize, better to accept! Who’d a thunk it that in her case an infant is coming to the conclusion “I’m not worth it” and in my case another infant decides “I’m not interesting or fun enough to be around”? Never underestimate the infant cognitive skills, nor the ability beliefs (merely thoughts thought over and over and over) have to parade as truths. Seeds are meant to grow and generally do, given the basics. I had already begun writing my experience following birth with my mom but I couldn’t think how to fit in anywhere. Now I can, so here goes:
If neediness on my part arises out of insecurities, that’s one thing. How many of us would be unscathed by emerging from the womb only to have that womb disappear for three months before appearing again? So as to not leave you with mixed messages and lack of info necessary to determine what I just said, let me just briefly explain that my mother went back into the hospital for three months right after I was born. I claim no memory of that time but I am willing to guess at how I might have received that little push pull of reality. Perhaps you notice I did not name this particular experience as bliss.
As I wrote the sentence before last, I nearly ended it with – rejection, rather than” that little push pull of reality.” It’s likely difficult for all of us to imagine a newborn infant pondering being rejected by its mother; not so difficult to imagine it crying inconsolably for reasons we can’t fathom or flailing its arms in absolute disagreement with its world. I wouldn’t really know if I experienced any of that. According to aunts and an uncle, my mother’s younger siblings, they all delighted in running home from high school to see the new “awesome” baby and the worst event that occurred was my being dumped on my head when my uncle over zealously did something to cause the bassinet to revolt. I sincerely cannot imagine three high school students giving up the greater enjoyment of all sorts of other things that normally occupy their time to peer in at a grumpy, squalling, red faced and ill tempered infant, no matter how reasoned might her mood be.
Ahh, though. As I wrote that last, I pictured my mother. My view of her is one of a woman who would willingly change inside out if she could so long as that allowed her to present her pleasing side. I wonder the chances that as her firstborn I knew how to present myself from the get go as “baby ‘pleaser’ — turn those smiles on”. Can an infant who is suffering insecurities do that?
I had a new (as far as I recall) thought, too, about that hospitalization and the length of it. Subconsciously, did my mother find herself wondering about attention needs and how to get hers met with a new baby in the family? I was her first. My father was fourteen years older than she. This hospitalization was quite the anomaly, too. (Anomaly is an exceptionally busy word in multiple subject areas so I’ll just quote Miriam-Webster online, their third definition 3: something anomalous : something different, abnormal, peculiar, or not easily classified as what I am meaning when I say that.) I’m not sure I was aware before I was in High School that my mother had spent that time (the background noise in my brain is saying: “my mother abandoned me”) in the hospital until, for some reason – unknown; my mother and my typing teacher compared notes and became aware they were the only two people in their known world who had had similar experiences with similar unknown and unexplained problems. She related the wonder of that to me and maybe I was just old enough to remember it as something significant; that’s when I became aware of that piece of my history.
Truth be told, the more I try to think of these things and see how they figure in (or might figure in) to my life not being all the bliss I’m sure I’d absolutely love, the more I realize I’d be better off without them. Well, that’s not totally true. More true, though, would be my “manning” (how about “womanning”?) up, changing those stories and giving them a positive, maybe even powerful ending. Now, there’s a project I could get behind. I’m going to invoke the life work I see on YouTube of Robert G Smith and Faster EFT. I’ve done enough to know that can work for me and I already know I’m a hard nut to crack so I need to go with what works.