Return to Innocence

This post is a bit of navel-gazing about my childhood, but also about what's going on in my life right now, which as you all know is a bit on the difficult side.  I thought I'd share an insight I had that my readers might find interesting.  Your mileage as always may vary.

~~~

"Don't eat that," she said, gently nudging the little girl's hand away from the box of Krispy Kreme.

A small button nose wrinkled, lips pursed, round face flashing a very adult and very irrational anger.  "But I want it."

"They're not good for you.  And they have eggs in them.  Remember why we don't eat eggs?"

Rolling her eyes, the little girl crossed her arms and recited, "Because animals on farms are treated really badly, and eggs are full of chol...collie..."

"Cholesterol."

"Yeah.  That.  And because they're whatchacallit, um, chicken periods.  And that's gross.  Right?"

"That's right."

A world-weary sigh.  "But donuts taste good.  And they're so soft.  And they're warm!  You know how much we love the warm ones!  I'll just have one, I promise!"

Blue eyes met blue, one pair stormy, the other determined.  "You have to trust me.  There are things you do that make you feel bad, and things that make you feel better, and sometimes it's hard to know which is which.  But if you trust me, I'll help you do the things that feel better later on instead of just right now."

"Who cares about later on?  I want one now!"

"I.  Said.  No."

In Buddhism the conscious, active part of the mind is called Monkey Mind; it bounces around screeching and flinging poo when we are trying to meditate.  There's also a part of the mind I call the Evil Auctioneer--he repeats the same lines over and over, too fast for the deeper mind to unravel, almost always going for the hurt.  He blabbers ninety miles an hour about how ugly/fat/stupid/unworthy/whatever we are.  When you stop him long enough to really think about his words you know they're completely ridiculous, but still, on he runs, just as the Monkey jumps and swings from thought to thought, sabotaging your efforts to still your mind.  Usually the advice is to ignore the Monkey Mind, or give him a banana (like a mantra, or yoga) to keep him occupied.  My advice with the Auctioneer involves a funnel and a hand grenade.

Generally when people talk about the Inner Child they do so with a New Age sort of reverence, forgetting that not every child is a sweet little ball of sunshine.  Perhaps it's because I really don't like children all that much to begin with, but I've always thought the whole Inner Child thing was an indulgent and rather silly crunchy-granola hi-my-name-is-Dolphin-Britches-can-I-show-you-my-dreamcatchers kind of concept.  A person, particularly a woman, who doesn't like or crave children is looked at like a unicorn or sideshow freak by most of society.  If I hear "it's different when it's yours" one more time I might just dig out my own ovaries with a spork and feed them to whoever dragged out that tired old cliché.  Yeah, it's different when it's yours.  So's a tumor or a shark bite, but you don't expect me to go out and get one of those, do you?

Needless to say I've never given much thought to my own Inner Child.  I'd rather have an Inner Adult, thanks.  Inner Children can't buy liquor and they usually don't take out the garbage.

Recently, however, I have realized that I do indeed have an Inner Child, and she's a spoiled little brat. 

She's Veruca Salt on speed.  She wants what she wants when she wants it, right now, lots of it, one for each hand, one of every flavor.  She throws things and breaks her toys then expects them to be magically replaced.  She pulls hair and pinches and boy, is she a biter.  She kicked my Monkey Mind in the head one time.  This did not shut him up, but it made her giggle.

Children do not spoil themselves, of course; not even archetypal children can manage that.  I think this is how it went:  once upon a time, my Inner Child was hurt.  Badly.  People who should have taken care of her abandoned her, left her all alone.  It broke her heart, even though she was too small to understand.  As time went on she learned to smile again, but then she was hurt again.  This time, though, there was no one to tell; she was afraid to speak up.  So she cried, late at night, every night, until I--Sylvan, the eventual grownup--gave her a cookie to stop her crying.  And another.  And another. 

She learned how to keep quiet and keep secrets.  And in return, her reward was food.  Sweets for the sweet, sweets for the silent.  I gave in to her every whim to keep her from screaming, because her cries were the cries of an abandoned and bleeding child, and who can stand such a sound?  So I spoiled her, and never made her learn how to take care of herself.  If I had known what I was doing to myself I might have tried other ways of coping, but really, I was too young to make better choices.  Who knows how to self-parent before, say, 40?  I'm 30 and still have no idea.  Hell, when I moved out of my parents' house I didn't even know how to do my own laundry.

I feel I should point out, here, that my parents were wonderful, and are still wonderful people.  I am adopted; they acquired me when I was about 2, and I have never had the slightest interest in my biological parents.  Those people are the abandoners of the story.  They broke the oldest bond in humanity, that of mother/father and child--I can completely understand the reasons someone would do so, don't get me wrong. There are many, and I support adoption rather than crazy ass shit like fertility treatments that leave people with septuplets they can't afford.  Ideally, in my mind, no child would be conceived who wasn't wanted--I'm firmly in the "birth control prevents abortion" camp.  But I am thankful, endlessly, that my parents took me; that's not the point.  The point is that whatever the reasons, the action of giving up a child causes a wound, and such a fundamental wound doesn't magically cure itself.  It takes processing.  I never let myself process it until recently, and it has unleashed a whole host of childhood pain that I never expressed. 

More than one person in my family has said that I was a "sad little girl," and that I rarely smiled for the first few months I after I came to live with them.  Tell me that's not a wound. 

At any rate, my Inner Child learned that all she had to do to be stuffed full of tasty food--and equally empty treats like bad TV, junk sex, and emotional numbness--was threaten to climb out of her crib and run amok.  Her sheer neediness frightens me.  She needs love, she needs affection, she needs to be taught how to grow and care for herself.  She needs to be nourished.  I don't want to need anything, or need anybody, because to admit you have needs is to admit vulnerability, and to admit vulnerability is to be open to attack.  Right now she is sick; I have been medicating with food again lately, and it makes her belly hurt and her heart beat erratically.  She's hyperactive from too much sugar.

When I look at pictures of myself as a child, I feel...regret, and grief, and a fragile sort of tenderness.  I want better for her than what I've given her.  I want to cuddle and reassure her, and invite other people I trust to do the same even though she doesn't like to be touched, quite rightly.  But I know that what she really needs--what I really need--is a firm but gentle hand guiding her away from the donuts.  At this stage of my life, I need discipline, but without blame or guilt.  I need to treat myself like a five-year-old, day by day, meal by meal, choice by choice, and softly repeat the reasons why I do this or don't do that, a litany of sanity delivered by a rather insane-looking means (talking to oneself as a kid, I mean).  My child needs mindfulness, she needs grace--in fact, if I had to name her I would name her Grace, for being kind to her is like a second chance for me, a chance to embody the Mother, to tend the growing ground of my being as only the Great Mother could.  If I can be the Goddess to myself, as my Earthly Mother would have if I'd let her instead of shutting down and shutting her out all those years, perhaps my Inner Child, little Grace, can grow up into Sylvan, and the door-slamming screaming matches can turn to peace, harmony.

Maybe it's New Age nonsense.  But when you've reached the point of depression where cooking a meal and remembering to take a shower is beyond your capability, it's time to try something new, even something New Age.  When you have become so cruel toward yourself that every time you look in the mirror all you can think is "fatass," or  "why are you even still breathing?" it may be time to try a more oddball, yet compassionate, approach.  To take yourself carefully by the hand and say, "Nobody is allowed to talk like that in this house, young lady."

Beginner's mind, child mind--a mindspace where anything is possible and everything is new.  It is a state we should all learn to cultivate, that endless wonder at the opening of a flower, an awed gasp at a shooting star.  I don't think I've ever been innocent, but perhaps I can return to a place where I still knew wonder, still new the wide-open hope of a barefoot girl with skinned knees and pigtails climbing a tree, pretending she is a dryad (Yeah, I was a weird kid) or constructing Fraggle Rock out of blankets and chairs.  A little girl who filled Big Chief tablets with stories about birds and foxes in her slanty, small left-handed print.  A girl who filled her pockets with pretty rocks and who talked to the puddle of sunlight on her bedroom floor.  A little girl who wanted to be Rainbow Brite when she grew up; the storyteller of her group; the mastermind of a dozen epic adventures. 

That little girl, Grace, who also goes by my legal first name, is much on my mind these days.  I think this weekend I'll take her to the park, and we can swing, and gather rocks, and I can explain to her that things need to be different from now on...and tell her I'm sorry I took this long...and also, she's going to have to get over the pony, but maybe we can discuss the Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine.

Comments

[Mercutia]

At this stage of my life, I need discipline, but without blame or guilt.

Oh, God, yes. Oh GOD do I know what you mean.

[NenTara]

A person, particularly a woman, who doesn't like or crave children is looked at like a unicorn or sideshow freak by most of society. If I hear "it's different when it's yours"

Thank the Goddess I'm not the only one! Why can't it just be okay to be who you are withouth necessarily fitting into all the stereotypes? I am ME and I do not want to be anyone else.

I really recognice what you write about admitting to be vulnerable, luckily, I've met the most wonderful partner who really understand me, so little by little, I have come to be who I really am, without pretending to be macho when I'm really sensitive (I'm a double scorpio with the sun in cancer).

[Jess]

Sweet :) I always liked Starhawk's (Reclaiming's) "Younger Self" concept, or Thorn Coyle's (Feri's) correlatory "Sticky One". They're far from behaved :)

[Aquari]

This is closer to what the concept of 'Inner Child' originally meant (I've read - well, skimmed - W. H. Missildine's book that coined the phrase) than the New Age version. Might be worth chasing down a copy if you want specific Inner Parent-ing tips.

Don't we all wish, at times, that we could go back and tell our younger selves What We Know Now, if only 'this too shall pass, really'? Or perhaps wished that our future self would step out of her time machine and tell us how we eventually get out of the mess we're in? I guess the method you've hit on is the closest thing to that, minus the temporal paradoxes.

[Karen]

I am speechless and in tears. Your words touched something in me I did not know was there. I am so mean to my "inner child" I think it is time I showed her some compassion and forgiveness.

Thank you for more than you can know..

Peace

[Sarah Peters]

The words right out of my mouth:

"I don't want to need anything, or need anybody, because to admit you have needs is to admit vulnerability, and to admit vulnerability is to be open to attack."

I have said this, verbatim and in many other phrasings, to parents, lovers, and one good-natured therapist. None of them understood.

What a shocking relief to read these words here, from someone else's mouth, and to come away with a different, deeper perspective.

Thank you, Sylvan.

[mahala]

If I hear "it's different when it's yours" one more time I might just dig out my own ovaries...

Oh yes, go have a child to find out if you really want one...that makes so much sense. O_o

Self-parenting isn't any easier at 40. But it sure looks like you've got a good start.

[Danmara]

(((Dianne)))

I know what you mean. Especially about the realize you have needs/not wanting to be vulnerable. I'm still trying to get over that.

Expressing my needs is hard; it leaves me open to rejection.

My inner child still wishes on stars. And you know what, she always will. Sometimes they come true. :)

[mariele]

When I finally found my inner child, I realized I was screwed with the "adult" parent I had who was to be my caretaker. It's a long and winding road - I have to remember, it's the journey not the destination.

[mama kelly]

This article is just wonderful ... it resonated with me so strongly, esp the part about keeping the Inner Child quiet by feeding it treats.

I also wanted to add that I too am an adult adoptee ... I was given up at birth and placed in a foster home until I came to my family at 5 mos. old ...

Regardless of much I, the adult, can rationalize and understand the reasons for adoption and who is grateful for it as it brought 2 children into her extended family, there is still a little girl inside me who, after figuring out that being adopted meant being "given away", still wonders why she wasn't wanted

[LongHairedWeirdo]

I had a similar kind of inner child moment, without ever really going into the idea whole hog.

If my inner child really wants a doughnut (well, for me, it'd probably be pizza - and no one fighting over who gets an extra slice(s), since I don't have to share with siblings), if there's that childlike delight in a treat, then it's probably time to give in. That delight is rare enough.

But for me, when my inner child is acting bratty or spoiled, he's probably not on the verge of delight over a treat... he's got some emptiness growing inside, and he's trying to fill it. What he needs is to learn that what he's asking for isn't really what he wants. It's not that he doesn't want to eat "too much pizza". It's that he wants something else... and he's thinking the pizza will fill the void, because he's never learned to fill it any other way.

This is, of course, my inner child, and I refuse to give other "parents" directions on raising their own kids, inner or otherwise :-).

[Vince]

That's very insightful. As a parent, I've found that children, much as they may fight it, crave rules and structure. They need boundaries, which they will push, but a parent needs to teach them there are consequences for crossing boundaries for which they will be held accountable. It may sound strict, but my kids still love me and crave my attention regardless.

Perhaps that can be helpful in your journey to raise your inner child.

[Jag]

I ignored my "inner child" for a long time because I dismissed it as new age crap that didn't apply to me. Now that I know how damaged I was (or am or whatever)there's no getting away from that little girl that is me abused, neglected and feeling totally unloved. I too fed her and spoiled her in ways unimaginable just to get her to shut up, go away and stop needing me. Now, I give her time, tell her I love her and let no one, not even me say mean things to her.

[Aquari]

I agree with Vince's comment, but might take the liberty of phrasing it a different way (as a non-parent but semi-professional student of human nature):

Human beings need to know where they stand. They want to know what they're capable of doing, what's expected of them, and what they can get away with. They learn by experimentation, and they need the assurance that it's safe to experiment - that if they're about to put a foot seriously wrong, someone will stop them. They need life's sheer drop-offs to have guard-rails in front of them. That's where parents (and most other authority figures) come in. The limits themselves may be frustrating, but the existence of limits makes the prospect of learning life by trial and error less terrifying.

[Heath]

Dianne,

I wish you could see the beautiful, talented, STRONG woman/human being, I see when I read your words. But, I know that is hard to do; maybe the hardest thing, because it is all wrapped up with accepting yourself.
I had a problem for many years giving in to my delight in doing cocaine. Then I realized I did it to feel better, to convince myself I was having fun, because I was sad and LONELY. THEN, I realized the reason I had no money and no friends (other than equally f-ed up strangers I met in the bar) and was so lonely was because all I ever did was go to the bar and get f-ed up on cocaine. Thank the Goddess I broke the chain. I send you energy and love and respect to break your own chain of depression. Blessed Be!

[Jax]

I love you.

[LongHairedWeirdo]

But for me, when my inner child is acting bratty or spoiled, he's probably not on the verge of delight over a treat... he's got some emptiness growing inside, and he's trying to fill it. What he needs is to learn that what he's asking for isn't really what he wants. It's not that he doesn't want to eat "too much pizza". It's that he wants something else... and he's thinking the pizza will fill the void, because he's never learned to fill it any other way.

Oh, and the key point to all of this, the entire reason I mentioned it at all... my inner child is part of me. While I can sometime feel what another person is feeling, while I can sometimes reach out to another person to help, hold, comfort, or nurture, I can do that directly with the child.

We share a mind, a body, and a spirit. I can work healings with that child that would not work with a real child.

I could not tell a real child "there is an emptiness inside you; it's inside all of us. It's tricked you into gripping it... but you can let it go. Here... you feel this? You feel how it's hurting? Good... now do what I'm doing. Relax your hands; feel it slip away. It still hurts doesn't it? But it's not as bad, and as we walk away from it, it'll hurt even less."

(This, of course, assumes that the child's pain is one that the adult me knows how to deal with... which is not always the case.)

And the reason I brought this up was that you were talking to your child, and obviously, what works for you, works for you. But this more direct connection, using my child's and my connection, our same-self-ness, worked well for me. So, that's something to try if you feel like trying it.

[kate]

I came over from Manolo Big, and stuck around to read a bit because I was born and raised in Austin, and I, too, love and dearly miss Book People, and I thought I might see what you had to say.
Just a question for you, but you seem really anti-fertility treatments, and I just wanted to know why. I will have to pursue fertility treatments in order to get and stay pregnant, and am part of a larger community of women who are struggling with this issue. In the last 2 years, I don't know a single woman in this community who has had higher order multiples (more than twins), and I know very, very few who have had twins, either. Septuplets have virtually become a thing of the past in regards to fertility treatments, and frankly, were always the extreme exception, not the rule. As technology in these areas becomes more advanced, the instance of higher order multiples will decrease as quickly as it rose in the past.
And I hear you that adoption is awesome, but what many people don't seem to know today is that adoption is prohibitively expensive, far and away more expensive than most fertility treatments. And with that, come a host of issues, just like you mentioned, of raising a child that can have unending emotional trauma as a result of their adoption experience. I'm certainly no expert on adoption, so please ignore it if it doesn't sound right to you, but as far as fertility treatments go, I think that continuing to spread negativity and falsehoods hurts all of womenkind, not just those of compromised fertility.
And I get your snark, and find it awesome (egads I love me some good snark), but somehow, your comment about fertility treatments being "crazy ass shit" just made me want to ask the question about why you feel that way.

I know. I'm just some random freaky infertile who's trying to start something, right? Really, it's just been so long since I (thought I) was normal, that I really don't remember whether I thought the same way as you do back then or not. And if that really is the average person's feelings about the infertile community, I kind of wonder what I can do to perhaps change that mindset.

Oh, well. Aside from the fertility question, I wanted to say that I REALLY enjoyed the revenge anecdote. Very, very funny- made my day. Thanks for sharing it.

[Sylvan]

Kate:

I am not the average person and I wouldn't imagine my opinions about fertility are the average person's. I don't want children, don't like children, and the idea of pumping my body full of chemicals in order to conceive is beyond the scope of my reality. I'm sorry if my opinion offends you; I can understand it would be a sensitive topic.

I don't think I speak for the entire world, fertile or otherwise--at least I hope not. The world would be fucked for sure.

[raken]

Sylvan: I want to tell you that I am so very proud of you for so many reasons. Your response above to Kate as the most recent. The personal choice regarding giving birth or not is a very passionate one. Your current battle, that abyss of darkness that prevents you from cooking, living, loving, the one shutting out the light, and screams at you to stop breathing was shoved aside. Out of the abyss you rise, as a Phoenix, into the light to respond to the needs of a total stranger, and one that holds a contrary opinion. Why? Because it mattered to her. Your response was honest, respectful, considerate, and understanding. I must say the only thing I can chastise is your saying "The world would be fucked for sure." I so strongly disagree. You are so many things to so many people and you have paid it forward touching more lives than you will ever consciously realize because it is so inheirant to your nature. Your focus is always, well mostly, on the side of "Why can't I.... How come I can't... Why didn't I....?" You strive to always be better and try to use such self bashing to a positive by the growth it creates within you. The tricky part is finding the balance. If you return to the balance beam and close your eyes the energys, thoughts, will have you swaying from side to side. Dance upon it. I have gotten long winded... The world wouldn't be fucked my dear, it would be honored and sacred. Don't forget that!!! All from the simplest of deeds on the surface but one as difficult and endearing as climbing out that abyss for a stranger when you can't do it for yourself. As i said the world would not be fucked, it would be honored. In your battle and your quest DO NOT forget that. When we put a voice to our needs, our needs are met. I feel you needed to hear this. Again I apologize for my long windedness but I know you will also understand it...hahah sometimes writing takes on it's own energies and agendas. I could go on but won't.... In all sincerity and respect I love you and wish you wholeness. Thank you for all that you do.

[Ganga]

I was very moved by the story of your inner child. I too had a horrible start to my walk on the Earth this time around and have only shared it with one fellow Wiccan, my dearest friend, who has suffered. We have both found tendencies in ourselves to be harsh and overly critical of ourselves and others and struggle with that still. Yes, I too feel I need to honor myself, reprogram my negative thoughts, and be more flexible, like a dancer, and dance through life as often as possible, instead of weeping in a dark corner or under the blankets. The dancer symbolizes freedom and creativity and the shackles of remorse and self-hate only tie me down yet again. Thanks for re-minding me and others of this. Thanks for being there! Meera

[Dana]

Sylvan:

I'm sitting here stunned. I believe fate has a hand in my being at your blog. I recently ordered your book from Amazon by recommendation of title ... I didn't make the connection to you as the author until I had been here reading at your blog for a while.

I have struggled with similar issues of deep depression for a long time. My journey sounds eerily similar to what you recount of your inner child. Reading your account made a lump swell in my throat. I'm living in a situation now beyond my control but of my own making. It can not be undone and it often swallows me whole.

I just wanted to commend you on sharing what you have. It's helped me understand myself a little better.

Blessed Be!