Friday, July 25, 2014

What I really want

My desire for what I want in life has seemed to overshadow the perception and reality of what I actually had... I wanted a family so badly I was willing to change anything to have it. Willing to give anything to keep it. Willing to be talked down to, willing to be seen as less important, willing to take on all the responsibilities of the family for fear that I would lose what I wanted if I didn't...

I wanted it to be. I wanted it to be what I thought it was more than I was willing to look at what it really was.

But I learned there are some parts of Carly that I cannot change, some aspects of me that I should not give away so freely, and that I am pretty wonderful just as I am. I learned that an unfairly balanced love just won't sustain itself on this roller coaster life.

And walking away was the best thing I could do...  there is always more to the story... and I'm gonna tell it.

Lil C's story:

I once heard an author say that meeting her inner child was like coming face to face with a silent stranger you’ve known forever. It was also that way with me.

I was instructed to go dig up an old picture of myself from before I could remember any pain or heartache. My first memory, at three years old, was exactly that… of pain and heartache. Though my task seemed daunting, I trudged through every old album I could get my hands on, and I searched. I found an old Polaroid of myself, little Carly, standing in the kitchen, toes smashed way down into my mother’s giant high heels, apron tied seven times around my tiny 4 year old waist, hanging nearly to the floor. And the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. This is when I met my Lil C.

As the author described, I felt like I was staring at a stranger. Lil C looked just like my then 4 year old daughter, and I could, of course, see the resemblance to my adult self, but the attachment of emotion was simply missing. Missing; like an enormous black hole in the top of my gut; quite the opposite of indigestion, and somehow quite similarly distressing. But there she stood, smiling. And there I sat, confused.

I have always believed I experienced a normal, healthy, solid, acceptable childhood. This belief guided every critical thought in my head. I’ve walked around feeling so guilty for my own hurt feelings, feeling responsible for my tragically flawed thinking patterns. And as I stared at Lil C’s perfect little face, I began to realize an awful truth; a truth which came crawling from that hole in the top of my gut like a demon with massive eagle-length arms, scraping at every organ along the way. This truth: that I have no memory of being told by my mother that I was ok no matter what, loved no matter what, forgiven no matter what; I was never made to believe that she felt lucky to be my mother, glad at the chance to know me, happy with the person I was. And that was only the tip of the abandonment ice burg. This truth crushed my soul, and I knew, beyond all reasoning I knew, that every child deserves unconditional love and endless teaching; and these are things my childhood did not provide.

These are things that my Lil C cannot live without; the reasons for my hurting and wasting and pain. So the task was set before me at that moment: I must work to develop my own voice of the loving parent to help quiet the storm of my inner Lil C, and shut down the voice of my inner critical parent. I can soothe the wounds left long ago which have governed me for longer than I know, I can find now what I needed then, and help my inner Lil C grow up and mature. Sound amazing? It is. This is my journey…