Let's Talk About Childhood

I went to counseling for many years and both as a Master of Psychology and as a human being, highly recommend everyone go to counseling at some point in their lives.  It's nice to have an unbiased party to listen, advise, and provide high level guidance on better coping mechanisms.  Often people think because I studied psychology I shouldn't need outside guidance, but as with most things, it is far easier to advise others than to look internally and make adjustments.  Over the course of my years in counseling, it became evident that I am not good at dealing with tough situations that impact me directly.

Examples?

- When I was eight, my grandfather passed away.  When my mom told me, I reacted very stoically and didn't cry about that loss for several years.

- Even when I was well into my career at Jack in the Box, I clung to my coworkers for fear they would leave.  It's a job - people leave.  You don't keep in touch with all of them when they go.  I had trouble with this.

Through therapy I gathered that each of us have a younger version of ourselves hidden in our psyche that comes forward when there's fear.  For me, this happens when I'm in a tough situation I don't want to deal with.  Whether that's death, not knowing how to proceed, people leaving (or potentially leaving), I am almost paralyzed and go into high anxiety mode.  Knowing this helps because it provides me the opportunity to address younger me or at least acknowledge she's there.  I remember sitting in my therapist's office and when these tough subjects would come up, the room would almost shake like an earthquake in my mind's eye.  It was a visual problem with a very emotional base.

My Uncle Grant, my Mom, my Grandpa, me, and my Grandma

Tara, Trevor, Evan, Dad, Me

I had a great childhood.  I spent a lot of time with my grandparents doing things like going to the San Diego Zoo, Wild Animal Park, playing on swings, swimming at the pool, cruises, traveling to Canada, playing cards, etc.  I had a good group of friends to play outside with.  I loved to read under the Willow trees in the area.  I was always good at school and was put into the GATE (Gifted and Talented Education) program by 2nd grade.  I had a lot of fun running errands with my mom, going to friends' houses for sleepovers, and never really wanted for anything.  In the back of my mind though, I was missing my dad.  He left when I was three and when I was in first grade he moved to Colorado.  I had three brothers through my dad, none of whom I really knew as a child.  No matter the reason, it impacted me and shaped who I am.  It wasn't anyone's fault and the older I get the more I realize everyone made the best choices they could at the time.  Every so often, though, the young version of me rears her head and points out that I have a fear of loss.

So... what does the fear of loss mean?  It means I can be irrational, petrified, and sadly, sometimes justified.  I have an established relationship with my dad and siblings now as an adult, but nothing can replace the childhood memories lost.  When I feel left out of any family interactions, I notice my irrational side comes out.  "Why did they forget me?"  "Why was I not part of that?"  "Why aren't I good enough?"  It's irrational because on the other side there's no intentional exclusion.  Everyone has their own relationships and that's NORMAL, but because I didn't experience it that way, I can't quite grasp it fully.  It means I cling to people a little harder than I'd like, too.  It means when people do decide to leave (because hey, not everything is meant to last forever) I take it really hard and very personally.  These are things I'm constantly working through and strive daily to change, but it's inherent in who I am.

What does all of this mean?  I'm not sure yet.  I make a daily decision to be less clingy and less reactive, but it is a decision.  It's a choice.  There are times I too decide to leave people or a situation because it becomes too much, and that's okay too.  The loss isn't all one-sided.  One thing I thought of the other day is how people come in and out of your life over time.  It seems from where I sit that people are accepting of that and don't shed any tears over the loss.  Maybe that's just because I don't see it and maybe, just maybe, we all experience sadness over losses, big or small.  I am quite good at putting on a tough exterior and making it seem like losses don't impact me, but they do.  It's a daily struggle... or maybe struggle is the wrong word.  It's a daily consideration, I suppose.

To the young me - I acknowledge you and appreciate your existence.  I hear you, I see you, and I am you.  We'll get through all of the baggage together, one step at a time.  To the 37-year-old me making the daily decision to be better?  Be strong.  Keep it up.  Work it out.  You'll get there.