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Archive for the ‘old shit’ Category

help

random notes on fears

i’ve never been good with allowing people to help me in any way.  i am stubborn and independent from a genetic basis, but, also maybe part of this overwhelming fear / loathing/dislike of needing help or just folks wanting to be nice and me being unable to let them has a little bit to do with the time in the hospital.  I start to feel trapped and smothered and unable when people attempt to help me.  It was just recently that i forced myself to accept small tokens of kindness as signs of friendship and love. the way they were intended.

how they helped me in the hospital was by setting my leg in the only way they knew how. and it worked.  it’s just, that i had to be trapped and strapped to that bed for 3.5 weeks and trapped in a body cast for 4 more months. if anything in my brain  references that help  whenever someone wants to help me or be kind well then, it’s no wonder i want to run.

it plays into my fear of authority as well.    i was 5. there wasn’t going to be help coming from any peers.  They were going to be adults.  I can stand back now and know that their intention wasn’t to scare the living shit out of me.  It was 1970 and  bedside manner was not a strong suit for my family dr.  nor his colleagues.  I have vivid memories of them on rounds rearranging my legs in their traction.  I’m crying and screaming, and they’re telling me this  is going to help me.  and i can’t protect myself in any way. I’m strapped to the bed across my chest, and my legs are in the air attached to the ceiling.  As an adult, i can acknowledge the difficulty of their task, but, why couldn’t they acknowledge they were hurting me? even if it was the only way to correct the situation?  5 year olds get it.  tell me you’re sorry that this is going to hurt so much, but, there’s no way around it.  they would never have had so little respect for an adult with my injury.

sometimes i get really down on myself for allowing these things to still be an issue. ( this whole broken leg business physically lasted about 6 months. at age 5 that’s 20% of my life.  That would be like expecting myself to ignore 8.5 years of my life today.) but lately i’m learning to  acknowledge that this is where my stuff comes from.  burying it doesn’t really solve anything.   I’m still going to have fear around authority figures, but, maybe I’ll be able to take a step back now and recognize that it’s an old fear I don’t need anymore.

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