Numb Little Robot

as a child I felt like an adult

as an adult I feel like a child

~

As a child I was a numb little robot.

The numbness protected me from a void inside,

a void that I carried into adulthood,

a void that one day opened up

unveiling the terror

the anguish

the incomprehensibility of childhood losses,

neglect and abandonment.

No fun. Let me tell you.

~

For all those years, the numb little robot that was me had waited and waited hoping, seemingly beyond hope, that someone would come to rescue her

and hold her

and feed her

and love her

and play with her

That “someone” was supposed to be me, except I couldn’t reach her.

Darn.

Why couldn’t I reach her?

~

My little girl inside didn’t trust me,

she didn’t feel safe with me ,

she had been crying loud and clear all along

and I hadn’t recognized her call .

Not only was I plain ignoring her.

I was actively hating her.

I hated my inner child and I didn’t know it.

I hated myself.

I hated the heaviness inside that held me back,

that made me drag my feet,

that kept me immobilized.

My self-hatred was keeping me cut off from my inner child

for the heaviness I so hated was my child within.

The heaviness was the broken heart of my little girl inside.

I hated my broken heart.

No wonder my little child wanted nothing to do with me!

~

Not knowing what the heaviness was, I wanted to kick it out of my system and move on with my life.

Well, guess what. It doesn’t work that way.

One can’t kick oneself out of oneself if you know what I mean.

I had to turn around one hundred and eighty degrees.

I had some major grieving to do

yet didn’t even know the meaning of that word.

I had to embrace myself,

I had to embrace all of me,

my pain

my heaviness

my broken heart.

I had to stop judging it and blaming it, and pushing it away.

I also had to accept that carrying the weight of my broken heart,

carrying a wounded child within

slowed me down.

It is okay to move slowly on the path to healing.

It is okay.

~

In order to heal I had to learn to love myself

and my little child within.

I had to gain her trust,

BUT HOW?

HOW??

And we’re back to square one.

OH GEE.

~

One day in my early fifties, a stuffed little monkey smiled at me from a windowsill and boom.

Love at first sight.

Monkey came into my life and changed it forever.

The next thing I know, I’m carrying Monkey in my arms

around the house and into the world.

I didn’t know it then, through Monkey I had finally connected to my inner child.

I’d take Monkey to my therapy sessions with Stuart.

Monkey’s irresistible smile would make me explode in laughter pulling me out of my despair.

~

And I became addicted to stuffed animals.

I’d see them in the store,

they touched my heart,

I’d feel them calling me,

I had to get them, I just had to.

~

Soon, Snuffy the Orphan Dog, and Angel Bear, and Molly the Small Purple Bear and the others would sit with me through my therapy sessions.

My stuffed animals, The Guys, as we called them, were parts of me and were there to help me.

That’s what Stuart said, and he was right.

~

It was through my adorable stuffed animals that I learned to love myself.

Holding them and hugging them in tears during therapy sessions, I’d feel a level of comfort that I couldn’t find anywhere else.

It looked like I was holding them. In reality, they were holding me,

they were me,

I was holding myself

~

never underestimate the power of stuffed animals

~

For many months, my stuffed animals remained silent.

In 2003, for the very first time, Monkey began yapping through my writing when we went away on vacation.

It was during that vacation that I had the insight:

My life had become a desperate race to maintain my house,

to pay a mortgage,

a race that was a superimposed structure on what my life was truly meant to be,

a structure that was crushing my essence,

an essence that I was beginning to have glimpses of.

I carried within a magical world of healing,

healing I desperately needed.

~

I had to simplify my life,

I had to break the grip of that structure that suffocated me so that my essence could surface and heal.

I had to simplify my life so that I could write.

It was clear. I had to sell the house.

~

The day I sold my house the rest of the guys began to talk. Their first words: “We’re moving! We’re moving!”

In order to speak, the guys needed the heavy responsibilities of daily life off my shoulders .

~

my stuffed animals know things I don’t know

~

my stuffed animals speak great wisdom

and great joy

~

my stuffed animals carry my inner child

my wounded child

my happy child

my wise child

my tender child

my funny child

my hurting child

~

my stuffed animals carry Jay,

adore Jay,

they play with her~

when Jay cries they comfort her,

they offer her their little hankies~

when Jay’s tears are oceanic the guys bring their buckets~

“Pass the bucket! Pass the bucket!” they say .

~

my stuffed animals carry eternity

for eternity holds my tears

~

my stuffed animals love me

and I love them,

unconditionally

~

My magical world of stuffed animals is not a world of fantasy~

it is a world in another dimension,

a dimension in which pieces of me that have been buried

finally find a voice

~

my stuffed animals bring back the voice of my silent inner child

because with them I feel safe

~

my magical world exists in a dimension where the childhood I never had exploded into existence and became a holy ground for healing

~

my stuffed animals carry my innocence,

the innocence of the child within

~

it is from the place of innocence within

that I connect with eternity

~

the innocence within

restores the connection with Source

~~~

(From "The Way Out, Part Two. Higher Intelligence and the Inner Child.")

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Jack and The Guys

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I couldn't let her go, Journey through Alzheimer's

The Heartbreak, Journey through Alzheimer's

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The Ordeal, Clergy sexual abuse

Predator, Part One, a memoir about clergy sexual abuse

Predator, Part Two, a memoir about clergy sexual abuse