In the winter of 1982 my (now ex-) partner and I had just returned to California after two extraordinarily intense, draining and emotionally undermining years in the heartland of Indiana. We had been living in relative isolation near my partner's family in South Bend. We'd moved there to help cope with the serious illness and then the death of my partner's closest sister.
Our relationship had been sorely challenged during those two years. Except for one 10-day visit from a close California friend, both of us had been totally without viable support systems as we each struggled with ourselves, a very difficult family situation and with each other. The return to California was a welcome relief for both of us.
Within the first three months back, I began the work of building a psychotherapy practice for the fourth time in my almost twenty years as a therapist. Not ready to rent office space and not comfortable working out of our shared house, I chose to have a mobile practice. To make myself available both to do house calls and to work with people in their most nourishing outdoor spaces.
Since my work and I were known in Santa Barbara, I began to advertise and reconnect there despite the fact that we were living in Ojai. As I began to face traveling to Santa Barbara to meet with people (both to build a referral base and to work with as clients), I found myself feeling very frightened. I was almost terrified about driving the beautiful 25-mile mountain road between Ojai and Santa Barbara by myself.
I couldn't make any sense of my fears. I would be driving the same van in which I had, alone, lived as well as traveled both across country and all through California several years before. The van, though 9 years old, was in excellent mechanical condition. The road was one I'd traveled, alone, many times in those earlier years as I'd moved between camping places in Santa Barbara and Ojai.
I thought it was ridiculous that I was feeling so much anxiety and fear about something so inconsequential. I felt incredibly embarrassed by the unfamiliar feelings of helplessness. My partner was equally unsympathetic, suggesting that I was “making a big deal out of nothing.”
Those were the days before I had begun the journey of lovingly re-mothering myself. My response to my fears was self-condemnation and self-ridicule since, “there was really nothing to be afraid of!” Of course, there was no question that I would have been kind, loving and emotionally generous with anyone else (friend or client) who might have been feelings those seemingly “groundless” fears. I, however, was always-in those days-excluded from such sympathetic concern from myself.
I pushed and badgered myself into “getting over it.” I shamed myself mercilessly into “just doing it.” I remember trembling and hyperventilating as I drove as slowly as I could, pulling over several times along the way. After many such awful trips, I gradually became less frightened and more secure about being able to make it through the journey. And, after still more less-awful-but-still-scary trips, the fears ultimately dissipated.
I ache now for the battered Little One I treated so abusively and harshly way back then. I was as mean, impatient and critical of her as my own biological mother had always been when the Little One was needing any help or support. And, I was treating her fear just as I was culturally encouraged to do: push through the fear/there's nothing to fear but fear itself/get over it/just do it, etc.
It's true that the harsh treatment did ultimately lead to the dissipation of my fears. Yet, the way I treated myself robbed me of any opportunity, at the time, to discover what the fear was about inside of me.
In the process/journey of lovingly re-mothering myself, I have learned that it's never okay to be harsh and abusive with myself. Especially when some part of me is feeling fearful. And, even more especially, when there seems to be “no reason” to be fearful.
When any part of me feels afraid, I listen carefully to her. I trust that there is something really scary going on for that part of me. Even if neither she nor the most advanced part of me (nor anyone else around me) understand what it is. I explore the fear with her. I hold and comfort her. I put all the lights on. We check in the closet, behind the doors and under the bed to confirm that there really isn't any bogeyman hiding there.
But then, instead of impatiently making her sleep in her own bed by herself, I stay with her. I let her know that even though there isn't a bogeyman around, I hear that she's really feeling scared. I let her know that I will stay and snuggle with her while she feels frightened. I let her know that she doesn't have to be alone with her fear anymore. Even when we don't know what she's afraid of. I let her know that it's okay to feel scared even when there doesn't seem to be something “out there” to be afraid of. I let her know that sometimes things just feel scary to us without our quite knowing why they do. I let her know that in those times it can be something inside us that's feeling scary.
In this soft, tender, loving space the fear usually melt s away. Often, it seems to have been her fear of being all alone with her experience. With the loving Mommy there, she isn't alone and afraid anymore. Other times, having the assurance that she doesn't need to know what she's afraid of in order to receive comfort allows her to gradually become aware of what inside her is creating the fear.
She learns not to feel afraid of feeling afraid. That lets her feel able to explore her fear. Lets her begin to discover what she needs from herself or from the Mommy to help her feel safe again. She learns she needn't feel embarrassed or shamed about her fears, no matter where they come from. She learns that her fear is a signal to listen to and to explore. She learns that listening to her fear will help her to know herself more deeply.
Being tender and gentle with our frightened selves allows our fear to become our teacher. With the Mommy to make the space safe to feel the fear, the fear can deepen and grow our understanding of all of our selves, big and little and in between.
Be really gentle with your fearful selves.
P.S. So many of your delicious e-mails send appreciations for the affirmation, support and nourishment you receive from the site. When I answer them, I don’t always remember to let you know that having your own deck of the Rememberings and Celebrations cards is a way to bring this same loving voice into your everyday world, to have it at hand as you need to remind yourself of the "real" truth moment to moment in the crazimakingness of the so-called real world!
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The card on this page is part of a set of 64 handcolored bookmark-size cards called the Rememberings and Celebrations deck. They can be used as an oracle, a meditation focus or a "book-in-pieces" to kindle and grow a compassionate, gentle, unconditionally loving, fiercely protective inner-Mother to help you carve safe healing space for your emerging self and for the wounded little ones inside.
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