In August 2021 I began EMDR therapy for Complex PTSD. It became quickly apparent that my body had set up so many protections that it would need to be prepped before the therapy could deal with any of the trauma. Here, I take you through one of my homework assignments: Re-parenting the Inner Child.

Deep breathe, put your hand over your heart and tell your inner child “I am here for you and only you. What do you have to tell me?”

Nothing clears my mind faster than trying to focus on any thought. Whether participating in this activity or if someone asks me to make a decision based on infinite possibilities. You know, like “what do you want for dinner?”

The more I do this activity the easier it will be to connect, but I have to admit, at first it seemed kind of ridiculous. Talk to my inner child? Will it really talk back? With specifics? How could this be?

Of course, my inner child has been trying to talk my whole life and my body has been shutting it down. A coping/protection mechanism. It certainly busted through in July with some earth-shattering info, why am I so skeptical of it now?

Maybe because I’ve been trying to distance myself since a pretty severe and extended flashback. Trying to take back control of my body by one of my old tricks: avoidance.

But if I want to heal, I have to face the trauma, skeptical or not. My muscles are particularly tight tonight (trapped trauma I’m told). My therapist often asks “if your shoulder blade could talk, what would it say?” I’m not sure, so I deep breathe, put my hand on my heart thank extraneous thoughts for coming in, then send them away so I can think more deeply.

“How old are you?” I’m supposed to ask my body this question. How in the world will it- wait, a number is actually appearing. 13. Suddenly I have a slot machine of flashing images rolling past my mind. School, a boy who had a crush on friend, friend, friend, friend I got it!

In 8th grade, I had a best friend who had an eating disorder. She was very open about it, writing poems, and reporting what she had or hadn’t eaten that day. I was very concerned, and the co-dependent part of me that always wanted to save people kicked in high gear. I’d try bringing her low-calorie food, asking her just to take a bite. She’d eat lettuce because she’d heard that it burns more calories to chew it, than you consume.

I was coming off the loss of two best friends who had both moved out of state. I’m talking about the kind of friends whose houses you sleep at more than your own, who get you on a level that no one ever has before.

One moved at the end of 6th grade, the other at the end of 7th. I started junior high in 8th grade feeling like I was starting over. I was in the gifted program which had me with a lot of the same kids for my core classes.

I don’t remember how, but this new friend (let’s call her Mabel) and I became super close. She was admired by a lot of the boys. This was a common place for me to be, the bestie of the object of others’ affection, not just people who had crushes, but people who wanted to be friends with that person.

This would lead to a lot of misunderstandings on my part, thinking certain people wanted to be friends with me, when they were really trying to get close to my friend. It also led to people trying to sabotage our friendship, spreading rumors/lies about me, and trying to make me an outcast. This has continued into my adulthood. I’ve been able to spot it quicker, but it doesn’t necessarily make the behavior stop. What can I say? I can pick a winner.

Back to age 13, Mabel, and her eating disorder. We were standing by the lockers on the way to lunch when I started panicking because she was talking about how she’d passed out because she wasn’t eating that day. I started pleading with her “Please! Eat something!” Getting hysterical. She got mad at me for making a scene and walked away.

Our English teacher, Mr. Romano, heard the commotion and pulled me into the classroom. Great, another “Jamie trying to help, gets in trouble for making a scene.”

But that’s not what happened. This perhaps 60-year-old man who, I kind of feared because of his strictness, sat me down with tears in his eyes.

“It’s terrible to watch someone you love slowly kill themselves when there’s nothing you can do,” he said. “My daughter is a beautiful, intelligent girl, but she thought of herself as a shit.”

Did my English teacher just say shit? Uncomfortable Jamie’s coping mechanism engaged with a little smiley laugh. Then he repeated it.

“She thought of herself as a shit.” He went on to try to console me that what was happening was out of my control (out of my control? My nightmare!). I really appreciated what he was trying to do and for sharing his personal life. I don’t remember what I said or how it ended, and I don’t remember us speaking of it again.

Mabel’s dad hit her. She talked about it often. He berated her, called her fat, and tore her room apart. Her mother was disabled and said she felt trapped because he was the one who made the money. I had to save her.

I devised a plan. I was carrying so much weight, I needed help shouldering it. I had asked many times to see a therapist but even after I ran away from home the year before, no help was provided. I had no idea at the time that I too was in an abusive household led by a narcissistic father.

Mabel’s problems seemed more obvious than mine. All fathers tell you how fat and ugly you are right? Everyone changes with your back against your bedroom door so your dad doesn’t spy on you, and of course, dads tell you what a bad person you are and that you need to be better. Didn’t Danny Tanner just tell DJ she needed to be a better friend on Full House? Of course, DJ had actually done something that Danny could point to, whereas my dad seemed to create imagined reasons, but I’m sure I must have done something wrong.

Mabel’s dad seemed to attack unprovoked, from what she said, but when my dad hit me it was my fault. He told me so, and my Mom never intervened. Certainly, she would speak against it if it was abuse. She’s a teacher.

This is my 13-year-old mindset. I was in charge of saving everyone. My parents didn’t understand the dangers of life until I taught it to them. My sister wasn’t safe from my father, so I had to be on guard for her, and step in (still not recognizing abuse, just an intuition).

Mabel had a therapist. She called her by her first name: Alice. “I have to see Alice today.” Alice was the key! If I could get in front of Alice, she would be able to help Mabel and maybe listen to some of my problems. Surely if she knew that Mabel was being abused she could do something. Mabel must not be explaining it right, but I could.

“Mabel,” I said. “Tell your mom that Alice asked to see me as your friend, to get another perspective.” I was relentless, wearing her down until I got the yes, just as I’d seen my father do an umpteen number of times. I needed to see a therapist, the load was too heavy.

It worked. Mabel’s mom picked us up from school and I went up the office staircase to Alice’s office. She seemed confused as to why I was there. I’m here to help Mabel, silly…and maybe you will look into my eyes and see that I need my own appointment. Maybe you’ll call my Mom and tell her.

We stayed for the awkward hour, I was throwing things in there about Mabel that Mabel would shut down. She was so open about her issues, why wasn’t she in here? I tried to talk about some of my issues, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Then, the appointment was over. Mabel still had to live with her abusive father, there was no phone call to my Mom to make me Alice’s new client. I’d failed, and worse, in pursuit of my goal, I’d been devious about it. I really did need to be a better person.

This is a burden I’ve carried, literally on my shoulders, in tight muscular knots for 30 years. I was devious = I was bad. Worse, I failed everyone.

But that’s what 13-year-old me thinks. Adult me knows better. I will be the parent I needed then.

13-year-old Jamie, you were very brave. You identified a problem, several in fact, and searched for a solution. At your age, your resources are limited, especially since you are not getting help from home. Those adults are supposed to be looking out for you, not the other way around.

But I lied! I convinced Mabel to lie! I’m so selfish!

You tried to give yourself what you needed in the only way you knew how. You didn’t trick someone into giving you money or fancy things. You tricked someone into giving you THERAPY! What you see as deviousness was a cry for help that went unheard.

I still tricked someone! Just like my dad does. He’s always lying to talk people into things they don’t want to do.

I understand that you feel bad about being devious, but it’s time to let that guilt go. You were dealing with an emergency. You are not a liar like your father. You are nothing like your father. You don’t know this yet, but he is a monster and you are his scapegoat. You were right to go for help in any way you could. I’m so sorry no one helped. That’s got to be so scary. You’re very clever to use the limited resources in front of you. You’re a survivor. You were right and they were wrong. I’m here now, I’m an adult and I will protect you.

Slowly open your eyes, come back to the room, Jamie.

Hmmm..parentified child. That’s been coming up a lot lately. They were supposed to take care of me, not the other way around. I didn’t fail. They did. 9-year-old Jamie has a lot to say about this, and so does 6-year-old Jamie.

9 year old- The reason you remember where the car was parked and the worry you felt at purchasing a souvenir on your first trip to Disney, but don’t remember actually going into the park or fun, child things is because you were parentified. Boom!

6-year-old- You reported something horrible that your father was doing. Someone should have protected you. It wasn’t your job to teach adults about bad touch. They already knew that. You were powerless to stop it as a child.

You are all survivors! None of this is your fault! I believe in you!

I guess it is possible to talk to your inner child. Muscles are still cramped, but less so than before. Let the healing begin!

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