early times
11.25.04 (2:16 pm) [edit]I suppose like most people a lot of my struggles (with my anger for instances) have their roots from my childhood or even from when I was an infant. I do have memories from being in the crib; in fact one of my earliest memories is lying on my stomach and my mother trying to give me a bottle of a juice of some kind; I think it was apple and I kept shoving it back out, it was to sweet for me I guess. I can say that I did not like being little, being picked up and put down somewhere I did not want to be, not allowed to go where I wanted and also just being small; never liked it and I would never want to go back to that....Never.......I seem to get happier as I get older, even with all the aches and pains.
I do struggle with anger and I have a handle on where a lot of it comes from; yep from my 'early times' before I was three years old or perhaps four; well it has to be both since what I am going to write about lasted for about one year; at least that is what my older brother of about 7 years told me. I suppose many people suffer abandonment issues that have their root in early childhood;that really has to happen since parents do have to go away some time either for business or just to get away from the kids ; so no one is at fault. However for the child it can be very painful and traumatic to say the least.
When I was in my two's and enjoying the close relationship that two's have with their mother's ; before the 'me's come on, if you know what I am talking about; parents know for sure of that I have no doubt. Well I suddenly felt that I was torn away from the world of warmth and security and plunged into a cold dark uncaring world with me at the center being very much confused and afraid and yes angry, though the confused and afraid parts had the death grip on me so to speak. It was like I became hyper self-ware in just a matter of moments or perhaps hours when it sunk in on some level that the warm presence was gone and as far as I was concerned gone forever. I was placed into a foster home by my parents for a time, about a year more or less. My parents were having trouble making ends meet and they needed someplace for them to place the children till they got back on their feet; their intention was good but the affect it had on me was anything but. Well maybe some good came from it; the sudden isolation made me hyper-self-aware and I suppose my intuition took quite a leap since I needed some why to survive in this situation. Of course I was not in any real danger but try to tell a two year old that who is suddenly "torn" (at least in my mind) away from all it warmth and security, its god perhaps since my whole survival depended upon mom. Now a year is a long time for someone my age at the time, a year is one third of my life so it seemed like a very long time endless.
My parents would come to visit and bring gifts but I remembered that I would not respond to the advances of my mother I was not that bonded to my father at that young age so I do not really remember him that much, he was just in the background. She would try to coax me with gifts but I would not even look at her, in fact I did not want to experience any of her warmth since I knew that the cold afterwards would be worse, I was adapting and did not want to have to start from zero when mom left with dad. I really remember only one day that was not gloomy and that was the day that I learned to half-tie my shoe laces, my memory is me sitting on the curb in front of the house and the sun was shining and I was happy because I was able to half solve the mystery on how the hell they tied my shoes. I also remember that I would at breakfast always throw my jelly under the picnic table that we used for meals and it would always fall face down; that would drive my foster mother crazy since she never learned who did it. I was being unfair of course but what does a 2 year old know of justice. I have more memories but why bore anyone with them; it was all in grays anyway, all color drained from them, sort of like looking at black and white photo's or watching a black and white old movie.
A few years back when I was in therapy for a short time to find some way to deal with the anger and rage that was beginning to take a toll on me; this period of my life (early times) was dealt with and I spent quite a lot of time discussing it. I really knew that my anger came from that period but talking it over with someone was really helpful and I feel the benefits to this day. One thing that did come out of this is that I found that while I was angry I could not blame my parents. I think part of my anger is that sometimes things happen to us that no one really is responsible for; it is just part of life and we have to find some way to deal with it. I suppose it helped that my parents after they brought us home never did anything like that again, they were always there for us, so that did bring some healing to me even at that young age.
So while I still deal with anger it is not the same as it was in the past. I feel more at home with it and anger is also a positive tool to deal with injustice; it gives me the courage and energy to be able to deal with world in a constructive manner. Undirected anger is not good since it really never deals with anything constructive but in the end only makes others uncomfortable or even afraid and I don't want that.
Anger can be a form of temporary insanity if allowed full rein so for almost all my life I have tried to direct it to constructive instead of destructive goals. The trick is not to be afraid to seek the root of anger and that is the beginning of healing; name it and tame it.....Corny I know but true.
peace
Mitch