The Thumb-Sucker
Fight or flight: the instinctive physiological response to a threatening situation, which readies one either to resist forcibly or to run away.
**Please be kind to yourself as you read**
I thought I was safe. At four years old, I believed if I couldn’t see you, you couldn’t see me. I had secreted myself away in a nice little spot between the couch and the wall and eagerly stuck my thumb in my mouth. As I closed my eyes, the delicious feeling of numb security washed over me. Though I could hear my mother clattering dishes in the kitchen, she was nowhere to be seen. Thankfully, my father was still at work. My eyes blinked open and shut as the very edge of slumber crawled into my mind.
“REBEKAH!”
It was a scream unlike any other; mixed with panic and combined rage. A claw-like hand reached behind the couch and grabbed me by my spaghetti thin arm. I hit my head against the wall as my mother yanked me from my hiding place.
“I TOLD YOU TO STOP SUCKING THAT THUMB!” She gave me a hard shake.
Reality ceased to exist, and I could neither speak nor move as she towered over me. Frozen in the familiar terror of one of my mother’s attacks, she dragged me to the kitchen. “YOU STAND RIGHT THERE.” Rummaging through the cabinet, my mother knocked a bottle of cooking oil to the floor. She glared at me with an accusing stare. “I’VE TOLD YOU AND TOLD YOU TO STOP SUCKING THAT THUMB!” Her attention turned back to the cabinet. “Here it is. Stick out your hands.” My mother pulled an eye-dropper from a little brown bottle and began to coat my thumbs with noxious hot pepper oil.
The rest of the afternoon dragged by. Even holding my favorite homemade rag doll brought no comfort. I longed for my little thumb, but I knew what would happen if I put it in my mouth. The burning sensation would last for hours.
Laying in bed that night, a circle of thoughts repeated themselves in my mind. I was bad. I was a bad, bad, bad girl. Sucking your thumb was the worst thing anyone could ever do, and I could not stop no matter how hard I tried. My mother wouldn’t have to yell so much if I would just stop sucking my thumb. I bet my Mama and Daddy wouldn’t whip me so much if I could stop sucking my thumb.
Despite the terrifying feeling in the pit of my stomach, it was impossible to stave off sleep. I forgot about the long-lasting pepper oil and unconsciously turned to my only source of comfort. As soon as my thumb touched my tongue, the burning taste brought tears to my eyes. I licked the sheets, but there was no relief.
The terror and confusion of that long-ago childhood lasted far longer than the pepper oil. It became my “way of being” in the world. Hyper-vigilance occurs when the fight or flight response is blocked and is especially complicated for those who have experienced repeated abuse in early childhood. The brain becomes hardwired in its effort to save you from threat and as an adult, you live in fight or flight nearly all the time. In the same way, I blamed thumb-sucking as the source of my suffering, we adults blame ourselves for what is really a physiological response to trauma, not a moral failing.
The fight or flight response can be rewired but it takes dedication, practice, and patience.
Learning to catch triggers early and practicing self-regulation are just some of the tools that can move you away from living in response to threats to living with intentionality. When you understand that fight or flight is a physiological response to trauma, you can take the burning power out of the pepper oil. Put it back in the bottle and close the cabinet door…forever. Don’t give up. You are worth it.
Rebekah Brown, a native of the south, now resides in the Great American West. Surviving a complicated and abusive family system makes her unique writing style insightful as well as uplifting. Rebekah is the proud mother of two and grandmother of four. Her very first novel, The Raspberry House, dealing with narcissistic abuse and every person’s desire to find their heart’s true home, will be released in 2021.
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Rebekah Brown, a native of the south, now resides in the Great American West. Surviving a complicated and abusive family system makes her unique writing style insightful as well as uplifting. Rebekah is the proud mother of two and grandmother of four.
Reading your blogs gives me hope. My “comfort” was nail biting as my mother dragged me off to the doctor because I chewed my nails and I was nuts at 9 years old. Watching the skin around my nails peel and tear down to the knuckles actually got her attention. Negative attention was better than none, I suppose. You do make me think. Thank you!
I sucked my thumb and still do. My mother didn’t have chilli oil but she had this other substance. She would paint on my finger that was incredibly bitter. I also have autism so it was hard for me to process. My whole family would laugh and tease me about my thumb sucking. My mother would use a wooden spoon on me if she caught me. My father at one point threw away my security blanket and then got mad at me for sucking my thumb more. I know it’s not mature, I know it’s not attractive but it brings me calm more than anything else.
Actually, depending on several factors, some may consider it attractive. I know this is hard to believe and may even be offensive on several levels but, fact is, my supposition is, indeed, true.
http://www.thumbsuckingadults.com
Wow, so glad I asked Siri about this topic, I have dealt with toxic shame unknowingly until now. So thankful to identify what has been a devastating life for me being a thumb sucker.
Always isolated from others and felt the need to hide from this painful habit. Never wanted to accept that this was an okay behavior and not a need to live sadly as I have been for all my life. Not much left now but hoping for some enjoyment at age 63 after facing this and probably doing EMDR. If needed. No money for this, but maybe it would help. .
I was a thumb sucker until I was in my fifties. I was neglected as an infant and my mentally challenged 10 year old brother was taught by my grandmother how to give me a bottle of formula. I was fortunate to have him in my life, although I wouldn’t know it until I was in my thirties. My brother’s neglect caused him permanent brain damage at 3 years old as he was starved almost to death. He was a transient person all of his adult life.
Thumb sucking brought great comfort to me. I too was exposed to name calling, as my thumb was often in my mouth at school or walking on the playground or anywhere for that matter. I also twirled my hair at the same time.
Now at 70, I’m just learning how the physical, mental and emotional abuse for the first 15 years of my life has affected my brain functionality and emotional well being. My father was in the Navy until I was five. He died when I was 8. My mother died when I was 15.
Those of us who survived childhood trauma found coping mechanisms to save our lives. I hope survivors will be gentle with themselves as they recognize the impact of what they lived through. Bless you all.