letter to my mother

This is an exercise designed to give the inner child a voice.  To ventilate anger and sadness.  Because these emotions keep the wounded child frozen.  The instruction is to write a letter to the parent, sibling or peer who helped cause your schema.  Here is mine.


Mum,


You neglected me when I was a child. Sure you did all the material things - clothe, feed and educate me, but you completely neglected me emotionally.

When I was a baby I needed love and nurturing and you didn’t give it to me. You left me crying. You didn’t cuddle me. You weren’t affectionate. I needed that care and attention and didn’t get it. No wonder I’ve had such problems with anxiety, you didn’t comfort me and you never taught me how to soothe myself. All I felt was the terror of being deserted when I needed comfort. As a baby you taught me that I won’t get what I need. You should have cuddled me every day. Come when I cried, instead of leaving me howling.

Later when my little personality started developing and I wanted to do things my way, you made me do what you wanted. What made you look good. You never let me be myself, you never validated my thoughts and wants. As a consequence I never learned how to be okay about myself. Because you made the true me wrong. How hard would it have been to validate what I wanted and negotiate with me? Teach me that what I thought was important and how to negotiate. These are important life lessons for a child.

You were critical instead of being encouraging. You never championed me, or supported what I wanted. It’s because of you I feel worthless. You’ve also taught me to be critical and this turns people away. These are basic social skills – how to make other people feel comfortable.

I never wanted to put effort into anything or finish anything because it would never be okay.

I never learned how to stand up for myself in a healthy way. I should have learned this from you. Instead you taught me to be passive and weak.

Now, because of what you did, I don’t know how to let someone love me. It feels wrong. This is sick and sad and you’re to blame for it.

I’ve lost the opportunity to be a parent. I was always scared of being too selfish, too much like you. Because of the way you treated me I will never be a mother.

I spent years rebelling against you and everything else in a blind effort to find myself. So much wasted energy. How different things would have been if you had helped me develop a healthy self.

I have so much potential inside me – talent, caring – and it’s gone to waste because of your neglect.

Your youngest daughter

going back to where it all began 2

This is another childhood imagery exercise, copied here from my notebook.  I'm not sure how old I was at the time, anywhere up to eight years old. 

'We were sitting in church - Mum, my friend Anna and I.  The priest was giving a sermon on the journey to eternal life. I suspect he was looking to do some teaching by analogy and keen to involve the congregation, he called for children to come up to the altar and tell stories about how they travelled to different places.  I had no intention of going up.  My mother had other ideas.  She told me to go, I refused.  And refused.  In frustration, and unable to raise her voice, she started pinching my leg and insisting I go.  I relented and went.  I felt awful.  I did what I had to do and came back completely embarassed in front of Anna. 

Although I couldn't have articulated it at the time, I felt completely invalidated.  What I wanted didn't matter.  All my mother cared about was looking good in front of the rest of the congregation.  I was learning that my wants, wishes and needs didn't matter. 

This is where I started losing myself.  Losing the ability to feel that what I want is right and okay.  This is where I became not important.  This is where I started giving up even trying.  This is where I split my existence into two realms - the real world where I would never get what I needed and the fantasy world where I could.

This is the roots of my rebellion.  Angry at everything. Refusing what my parents desired because that was the only means I had to be myself.  Me ≠ Them.  The anti-them.  The only self I could find.  The wrong self.  The defective self.'

Typing this out, the feelings evoked are very strong.  Anger is at the forefront, but also humiliation - the sense of being devalued.  I'm just breathing my way through the emotions, letting go the temptation to analyse it away or distract myself.