Yep, the wounded healer

I worked intensely with one of Carolyn Myss' books about archetypes, and which we embrace - how we identify ourselves.  Wounded Healer is part of my soul also.  Maybe it's about surviving, perhaps not intact, but surviving nonetheless.  Those who have endured the pain know where the pain is stored or at least that it is stored, and more importantly, believe that the pain is real.

When asked for help, I say yes because if someone asks, it means they have noticed me, maybe even need me.  It means I am real, for the moment anyway.  I have been considering that the problem might not be the identified cycle: we get asked, we make time, we resent the time given and people never seem grateful enough - to - it's supposed to be reciprocal.  We are also supposed to ask for what we need.  Do you do that?  Do you allow others to take care of you?  I don't.  I know I can tough it out through anything, and physically, I make it.  I survive, but I'm not warm and loved and treasured.  If we are asking for as much as we get asked for there is a symmetry, an elegance to our lives...I think, seeing as I have never tried this.  This is the theoretical speculation of the kid on the street looking in the window.

And maybe we should ask ourselves if we do it because we have a duty to due so, to take care of others?  Or if we do it from a place of compassion and connection?

What is normal?  Aren't we back to where we started?  That was one of our first questions, and the fact that we have returned proves we are cycling appropriately.  And I still don't know how to define or to recognize normal. Maybe one of us will have a flash of inspiration when we get back here again!


I wonder what makes some abused people develop a sense of worth that is tied to helping and sacrificing and others fail to develop the sense of worth and spend their lives hurting themselves...

I lifted this directly from your post.  I am wondering why  you identified only two options.  Worth that comes from helping others or not developing a sense of worth and instead, destroying self.  What about the option of recognizing self worth?  No stipulations, no behavior demands - you are simply worthy because you are here.  I go back to Brene Brown saying that only a sociopath feels no shame.  So what is the opposite of a sociopath?  Is there a term for someone who feels everything, take responsibility for everything, feels shame and sorrow for absolutely everything?  Maybe if we could label the edges, we could find creative ways to navigate the spectrum between the extremes.  Because now I just feel stuck on the shame side.  The other thing that comes to mind after reading your two lines above is that I will help.  I will go out of my way to do what others ask me to do.  Yet I also spend my life hurting myself, committing slow motion suicide with my diet, for instance.

When you say you are always "on", I think you are saying the same thing as me when I note I am always afraid.  I never feel safe.  I am always waiting for something bad to grab me and hurt me and take away what I have.  I have awful daydreams about pain and destruction - usually happening to someone I care about, like one of my children or grandchildren.  I have learned to stop myself and shake it off.  But, there is something superstitious linked to that.  I have learned that the things I panic about, fret and worry and rip apart constantly, the things I really obsess about - never happen.  The things that really hurt are the things I never saw coming.  There's something deep inside worrying about details, to keep things from blowing up in my life...to keep me safe.  My turn to wonder if I am crazy.

I know that memory loss offers refuge to people who have been through the worst pain.  I think that my memories have remained because I did not have to bear the pain of abuse from the brothers.  I was older and taller and louder and stronger.  I could beat B#1 in a wrestling match until were were about 10...long enough to protect myself.  I think.  I obviously don't remember what happened when I was very young.  For me the hardest point was analyzing, logically, why three of our brothers were sexual predators and abusers.  And when logic pointed at Dad, I almost fell apart.  I talked to S#3, to you and to a close friend.  But it was hard letting that go in front of someone.  It still rattles me, although I feel much more peace within, because that is in the open and neither you nor S#3 has rejected me.  I don't expect the same from the other sibs because this changes our whole family.  That realization led me to completely redefine who we are, and to see all of our history in a different light.

You hit me hardest today with the image of standing in the swamp, wearing the shroud.  If I cast off the shroud, I am naked.  The thought caused a momentary panic.  It took me back to the question Cousin L and I discussed - what do we protect, or really, what do we hide.

Is there a real me? I remember becoming aware, many years ago, that I only show part of myself to people, and no one sees all of me.  I protect myself even from those I love and trust...or maybe I don't trust them...or maybe I don't trust me.

I trust that your youngest is feeling better.  There's nothing worse than getting sick on a holiday! Love to you both, and to everyone else in the fam!