Walking on Eggshells

The other day I was sitting in an office, being asked a bunch of questions about my childhood. I was asked about time when I was five and younger, over five but not yet in middle school, in middle school, in high school, and so on. There was a lot of I don’t remember.

I don’t remember a lot of my childhood before about twelve or thirteen. For years, I didn’t even think about that fact. And when people would remember things from when they were five and six, I’d pause and try to dredge up some memory. I might get one or two.

As I began to work in hypnosis, I would follow threads of feelings that popped up in my current life, and travel back to their origin. What really surprised me was what was beneath, or behind, the feelings. Very often there was fear. So much fear came up. And sadness and other uncomfortable feelings.

Many times, these feeling threads would take me back to when I was young. Very young. I could see things going on with me and my mother: her yelling at me, my thinking there was something wrong with me, my wanting to curl up in a ball and die.

Because my mother would lash out at me when she was manic, I honed my ability to read her emotions until I could tell within less than a minute of being with her how she was doing mentally. The way she moved, a quick glance or a look, the tone of her voice; they all gave her away. I got very good at reading her because my life depended on it. At least that’s how it felt.

I also learned through hypnosis that I was born very empathic – able to sense people’s emotions and feelings. I shut off a bit of this ability when I was overwhelmed. But I most definitely used it around my mother.

As long as I lived under her roof, I often walked on eggshells around her. It was survival.

The very cool thing is, in doing the healing work that I’ve done – especially using hypnosis – I’ve not only seen what went on that caused me to shut down and to shut off my memories, but I’ve been able to help that little girl in me. To teach her that she was and is perfect, whole, and divine. There is nothing wrong with her. She was just in a shitting situation with some really wonky family members around her. Reconnecting with her has not only healed her, but me; as she is a part of me.

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