Parenting in the void
Empty. Nothing. Not even a crumb or mouse turd.
I could not find anything in my experience to help me with this fresh hell happening in my kitchen: my kid is emoting in a messy way and I am freaking out.
I knew what to do for my kid from all the parenting books and all the advice I got from everyone. What I couldn’t handle was the frantic feeling I had inside my body that made me feel so anxious. It felt like alarm bells going off in my head and prickly hot in my legs and thump thump in my chest.
As my kid tearfully choked out sounds of sadness and anger, I felt a distancing happening inside of me. I was dissociating and I stayed just present enough to give my child the impression that I was engaged and listening.
This wasn’t a one time event. This happened a lot.
Sometimes it worked out - my kid got “heard” and “comforted” and I survived. Sometimes I snapped and shut down the emoting by re-directing, distracting or an oft used tool: yelling.
Anytime BIG EMOTION showed up in front of me, I checked out. My body stayed but my mind went elsewhere.
Anywhere but here was my MO.
Dissociation is a temporary shut down of the conscious experience that provides relief from the stress response.
“When a person experiences dissociation they become disconnected from their surroundings or from themselves. This works to manage potentially overwhelming emotional experiences such as traumatic memories and may temporarily reduce feelings of shame, anxiety, or fear (but not function as a long-term fix).” verywellmind.com
I didn’t make myself dissociate. It just happened. Whenever I was startled or anxious it would happen. I didn’t feel better when it happened, I just felt separate. Buffered from my experience. And I wasn’t even aware it was happening.
I remember when I came to believe that my easy dissociation was an incredible talent I possessed, and one that made me a good social worker.
A red haired woman was screaming at me. We sat facing one another at her small kitchen table. Her family was assigned to my caseload and we were working together to prevent child protection services from removing her children from her care. After telling her that this program was “voluntary” and that I was here to help her and her children, she rightly lost her shit on me. Before I heard an angry word come from her mouth, I felt a sudden tension in my shoulders and I held my breath. As I watched her mouth make the words, her lips drawn tight and her eyes narrowing my heart jumped inside me but I remained perfectly still and looked her in the eyes. I could hear her words but I felt like they were bouncing off me. I remember thinking “This is cool! She’s freaking out and I’m just taking it!” I remained still while she said scary things in her scary kitchen but I didn’t feel scared. After about 2 minutes she stopped saying words. I looked her in the eye and said “I know this must be hard for you, but….” and continued to do my job as expected.
While driving home after that meeting with the red haired mom, I congratulated myself on being so “professional”. I felt like a champion. I believed I had acquired this skill somehow in my social work training about professional boundaries or something. I don’t know. I wasn’t really paying attention. I just knew that I had successfully survived something very scary.
15 years later, I quit social work. Stressed AF in every way. Burnt to a crisp.
Still dissociating.
When a person experiences chronic, multiple or even one experience that is overwhelming to the psyche, the dissociation response becomes activated too often and becomes a habitual process in the mind. Which is where I found myself with the emoting kid.
I dissociated because I was unable to effectively process human emotional expression in myself or others.
Dissociation is a powerful coping mechanism that is activated when we experience overwhelming fear or sadness. It is the brain’s way of protecting us from danger and is actually quite kind to protect our psyches from permanent damage.
It’s not a character defect. It’s not a personality flaw. It’s a response to overwhelming stress that is designed into animal brains for such a purpose.
In recovery, I’m learning to stay present even when I am distressed. I’m learning to stay present when I am uncomfortable. I’m practicing “leaning into” experiences and feelings because I want to feel. I want to be present. I want to experience all of it. The sad, the anger, the fear, the disgust, the joy, the anticipation, the surprise and the trust. Life is way more interesting with the full range of emotions and feeling fully connected to my present experience. I better understand what is happening when other people emote, both inside of them and inside of me.
And that has made all the difference.
XOXO,
Miki
