This is a continuation of this post: HERE
I woke up very early this morning. Dread from the trauma memory weighed heavy on my heart. “What to do with all this new information? How am going to get out from under all this trauma as an infant? How am I going to deal with this? How?”
Somewhere along the way I picked up that trauma-riddled baby and threw it in a closet, shut the door and locked it behind me – never to open it again. Too much pain to deal with. Then – using liquor – a fifth-a-day – whole cakes, bags of candy, cartons of cigarettes, and many other compulsive behaviors – I fashioned locks for it.
Now all the locks (the addictions) have been removed the door is slowly opening…
I heard a voice from somewhere yell;
Somebody’s got to pick up and hold
that traumatized baby!!
As I lay in a fetal position in my bed in the early morning someone inside – I don’t know who – picked up the baby and laid it softly against her shoulder…
There, there baby
(pat, pat, pat)
You’re ok. You’re ok.
(rub, rub, rub)
I don’t know who it was that did it. Who picked it up. I just laid there… feeling. Trying to feel… the ok’ness of it all. A calm slowly began to envelope me as I felt myself being held, patted, and rubbed. In my mind I felt the sensation of patting… and of being patted. I didn’t know what else to do. I just laid there… doing this… patting… being patted. “You’re ok now baby. You’re ok.” (pat, pat, pat).
I need to recover this traumatized baby and no outside human being can do it for me. I can’t trust anyone outside me to do it. I need to un-traumatize myself. So I laid there… patting… being patted… patting… being patted. A deep, deep calm came over me. I breathed. Nice, easy, full breaths. Nice, easy breaths. I don’t know if I’ve been holding my breath my whole life. These were the easiest breaths I’ve ever taken.