1/6/24

On the morning of Children's Day, as I woke up, I found both my mother and grandmother had sent me red envelopes, filling my heart with warmth, such a cute gesture, perhaps in their minds, I am and will always be that little girl. In China, this is traditionally gifted on special occasions or holidays, symbolizing good luck and blessings. Today, after completing my pottery session and receiving a few new pieces, I passed by my favourite café. When I asked if they could use my cup to make the coffee, they gladly agreed.

So here I am, sipping coffee from my new piece, as I begin to craft this blog.

Looking back to my childhood, I had a wide array of toys—Barbie dolls, toy cars, assembly kits, puzzles—you name it. Yet, what I cherished most was playing in the mud, climbing trees, nibbling on flower petals, or rummaging through her closet, stuffing clothes into little bags, stringing them into a long tail hanging from my pants, then strutting like a model; or perform plays with myself as the sole actor (as an only child, growing up in an environment lacking playmates, I consistently ensured my contentment).

During my student days, I never ranked among the top five, but my grades were decent; however, homework was a different story altogether. Sometimes I attempted to glue two pens together to lessen the workload of repetitive copying assignments, only to find myself hours later with the assignment still incomplete; sometimes I found the texture of erasers fascinating and ended up squishing them endlessly; sometimes, spotting a bee outside the window would divert all my attention... Every time my mother witnessed my homework antics, she was both angry and perplexed, wondering why I, "stuck at" the desk, remained so distracted.

I remember one weekend in elementary school, I was at my grandparents' house, wholly absorbed in digging for earthworms, with no intention to do my homework. My grandpa, seeing me so focused, hesitated to interrupt, fearing that my mother would scold me, yet also not wanting to disrupt my playtime. So, he quietly helped me with my homework. When my mother returned, she found my grandpa's handwriting, leading to a scolding for both of us. That day I felt especially saddened, for the first time wondering why others could sit obediently at their desks to finish homework while I simply couldn't, and affected my grandfather. I solemnly apologized to him, to which he smiled and said, "It's okay."

As the time for the Uni entrance exams approached, I began studying diligently, I still remember those mornings during high school, waking up before dawn to memorize vocabulary alone in the classroom. Looking back, I'm proud of my determination.

These memories remind me of this little "curious, fearless, and always being present" me.

In August 2023, I started exploring pottery. Initially, I was anxious about making mistakes, worried my ceramics wouldn't be "perfect enough." Over time, I gradually entered a state of mindfully "being present", akin to playing with mud as a child. In those moments, without fear, without ego, just pure enjoyment of the sensation and creative process. Thus, I began to "flow" of continuous inspiration, moments when I had many emotions or creations to express.

I realized this state of flow isn't limited to pottery but extends to other aspects of life. I began to fear mistakes less, and no longer worry if others would think my questions were foolish, no longer pondering, "Why can't I do what others can?"

It's no big deal—ask it if I don't know, correct it if I make a mistake, also, different person has a different life. Nara once told me: Life is like running, a cycle of falling and catching. If I fear falling and don't lean forward, and the subsequent catch won't happen, halting the act of running altogether, stagnation is what awaits me.

Recently, a friend, who is also an experienced therapist, sent me a few lines:

The one who blames others has a long way to go.

The one who blames themselves is halfway there.

The one who blames no one has already arrived.

My self-healing journey began two years ago through reading, heartfelt conversations with empathetic and openhearted friends, therapy, spiritual healing etc. I've been learning to understand and accept myself.

I've been reading a book called Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving by Pete Walker, which explores Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD) and how childhood trauma can resurface in adulthood. The book introduces the idea of becoming the parent to your inner child, re-parenting yourself.

From my own experience, "blaming others" is a necessary step, as we need to understand the situation, comprehend our circumstances, and feel compassion for ourselves. People might say things like, "Your parents did their best, what more do you want?" "Why can you only see what others do wrong?" "Think about why these things happened to you," "You're already so lucky, I don't understand what you have to complain about." These words are a form of violence, compelling us to ignore our pain, and forcing us to skip the step of tending to our wounds. If, when expressing ourselves to others, they respond in this manner, perhaps it's time to seek another safer environment or share with professionals or friends who make you feel comfortable. Self-healing needs to happen in a safe space; pretending everything is fine or suppressing and denying our pain is a form of self-violence.

For a while, I also questioned why these things happened to me, why I didn't protect myself better, why I didn't know how to react, why I couldn't do better, am I the reason these things happened... These thoughts are self-criticism, not self-reflection. Upon careful consideration, I realized that perhaps I didn't recognize certain past situations because I didn't encounter similar situations before, lacking experience in dealing with them, which also indicates how fortunate I was, experiencing so many years of well-protected life in this regard; or perhaps it was the absence of certain experiences during my growth that made me crave certain things, thus being drawn to them. These experiences are also part of my life's curriculum, necessary paths to traverse. Life would be too mundane without these challenges; after all, aren't we here in this world to experience? The key is to reflect on our blind spots, how to improve, continue nurturing our strengths, and prepare for what's next.

After beginning self-healing, I gradually realized that some of the "unexplained" sadness, fear, and anger I had felt originated from explicit or implicit abuse I experienced during childhood. I have loving parents and family, yet everyone might have imperfect experiences and traumas. I hope we can address these issues openly rather than avoiding discussions of pain or resorting to blaming the pain itself, their existence is valid.

A couple of years ago, I often tried to discuss these issues with my parents, hoping they would understand the roots of some of my decisions nowadays. However, these conversations ventured out of their comfort zone, and their reactions were more defensive than receptive or empathetic. This made me very sad. Looking back at my journal from last year, I sometimes need to take deep breaths to calm myself before continuing to read. I want to hug my past self and say, "It's okay to cry when you're sad, to write about it, to express it, to seek help. You're doing great. "

I also understand that it is up to others whether they choose to accept, change, or understand. What I need to do is ensure my own safety and well-being, rather than placing my expectations on others. Some self-pity or anger are normal emotions. Don't stand as a critic against yourself.

One day, I was reflecting, and despite my various issues, at the core, I am filled with love. I believe in love, can perceive love, and can create love. I am strong enough, yet I am soft enough, and I hold an unyielding hope for myself and my surroundings as if there's a well deep within my heart, a well brimming with nourishment and love. Because of this well, I recover every time I am struck down.

This well exists largely because I received abundant love during my growth. Despite some uncomfortable traumas, my parents did gave me infinite, unconditional love when I was a child.

That day, I sent a message to my parents, "I understand that some of our conversations over these years may have made you uncomfortable. Perhaps you feel that a barrier has formed between us. You might have felt offended aggrieved or reluctant to touch on some old memories. Yes, you are not perfect, but that's normal. Just like everyone in this world, we are all imperfect. I am very grateful for the unconditional love and support you gave me when I was a child, which gave me the foundation to face the world bravely. My traumas are real, I do not deny their existence and validity, but I will take care of myself and work hard to heal myself because that is something I need to learn in my life. Even if sometimes I feel disappointed or in pain with you two, I have never stopped loving you, just as I know you have never stopped loving me, I understand you also have your insecurities. Also, I noticed your changes. I am starting to feel your listening and your expression of feelings. I am proud of you. We are very fortunate to have built our connection in this world."

I remembered some small things. When I was a teenager, I noticed some differences between myself and the common beauty standard, I would sadly complain to my dad, "Dad, why isn't my hair as black, long, and straight as others? Why I am so tanned? Why aren't my thighs as slim as others?"

Dad would always say with firm confidence and affirmation, "My little friend ( he always calls me this ), you have no idea how beautiful your hair is. Why must we be like others? Your waves are inherited from me, and your chestnut hair colour is so unique that I even envy your hair. Your tanned skin just like your mother's, is kissed by the sun, and your thighs are like an athlete's, very fit. In my eyes, that's the most beautiful. You are unique, beautiful and healthy." So, growing up, I didn't have insecurity about my appearance or body. Also, when I was bullied by classmates when I was a kid in a boarding school, my parents would immediately come to school and discuss it with the headmaster, to protect and support me unconditionally.

Now, back to this book. It mentions the roles of parents: the mother provides unconditional love, and the father offers unconditional protection. Not everyone has these foundations in their upbringing, so self-healing involves going back to that time and becoming your own parent, taking care of your inner child and soothing yourself during emotional flashbacks.

The book discusses the roles of parents: the mother provides unconditional love, and the father offers unconditional protection. Our self-healing involves becoming these figures for our inner child, especially during emotional flashbacks.

A few days ago, I was at home, suddenly recalling an incident from the past. In a past relationship, when I felt unsafe so expressed that I couldn't discuss anything at the moment and asked if he could leave my home to give me time and space to calm down, he forcefully demanded that I focus on his emotions, ignoring my request and violating my boundaries and safe space. I was terrified at that moment, I forgot to protect myself, I could not think about my limit and safety, and my reaction was to set aside my feelings, cooperate with the conversation he wanted, and provide the emotional support he requested.

Although I have completely removed this person from my life, remembering this memory still brings me pain, anger, guilt, and fear. I was furious at his behaviour, and I was also angry at myself for not knowing how to react at the time. I felt guilty for not protecting myself better, and I questioned myself why this kind of thing would happen to me—is it my problem? Although these feelings gradually faded over time, they still lingered.

That day, when I was in a flashback, I followed the guidance in the book. I took myself back to that moment and became "my own father," sternly scolding him and driving him out of my home. Then, I became "my own mother," holding panic me and saying, "Don't worry, I am here. I will protect you. Now, there's no one else here. You are safe. The current you is different from the past. You can handle this differently now."

I cried for a long time that day, but I also felt much lighter.

Here are strategies in times of flashbacks from the book I'd like to share:

1. Say to yourself: “I am having a flashback”. Flashbacks take us into a timeless part of the psyche that feels as helpless, hopeless and surrounded by danger as we were in childhood. The feelings and sensations you are experiencing are memories that cannot hurt you now.

2. Remind yourself: “I feel afraid but I am not in danger! I am safe now, here in the present.” Remember you are now in the safety of the present, far from the danger of the past.

3. Own your rights/need to have boundaries. Remind yourself that you do not have to allow anyone to mistreat you; you are free to leave dangerous situations and protest unfair behaviour.

4. Speak reassuringly to the Inner Child. The child needs to know that you love her unconditionally- that she can come to you for comfort and protection when she feels lost and scared.

5. Deconstruct eternity thinking. In childhood, fear and abandonment felt endless – a safer future was unimaginable. Remember this flashback will pass as it always has before.

6. Remind yourself that you are in an adult body with allies, skills and resources to protect you that you never had as a child. (Feeling small and little is a sure sign of a flashback)

7. Ease back into your body. Fear launches us into ‘heady’ worrying, or numbing and spacing out.

[a] Gently ask your body to Relax: feel each of your major muscle groups and softly encourage them to relax. (Tightened musculature sends unnecessary danger signals to the brain)

[b] Breathe deeply and slowly. (Holding the breath also signals danger).

[c] Slow down: rushing presses the psyche’s panic button.

[d] Find a safe place to unwind and soothe yourself: wrap yourself in a blanket, hold a stuffed animal, lie down in a closet or a bath, or take a nap.

[e] Feel the fear in your body without reacting to it. Fear is just an energy in your body that cannot hurt you if you do not run from it or react self-destructively to it.

8. Resist the Inner Critic’s Drasticizing and Catastrophizing.

9. Allow yourself to grieve. Flashbacks are opportunities to release old, unexpressed feelings of fear, hurt, and abandonment. Validate and soothe your child's past experiences of helplessness and hopelessness. Healthy grieving can turn your tears into self-compassion and your anger into self-protection.

10. Cultivate safe relationships and seek support. Take time alone when you need it, but don’t let shame isolate you. Feeling shame doesn’t mean you are shameful. Educate your intimates about flashbacks and ask them to help you talk and feel your way through them.

11. Learn to identify the types of triggers that lead to flashbacks. Avoid unsafe people, places, activities and triggering mental processes. Practice preventive maintenance with these steps when triggering situations are unavoidable.

12. Figure out what you are flashing back to. Flashbacks are opportunities to discover, validate and heal your wounds from past abuse and abandonment. They also point to your still unmet developmental needs and can motivate you to get them met.

13. Be patient with a slow recovery process: it takes time in the present to become unadrenalized, and considerable time in the future to gradually decrease the intensity, duration and frequency of flashbacks. Real recovery is a gradually progressive process (often two steps forward, one step back), not an attained salvation fantasy. Don’t beat yourself up for having a flashback.

Another concept is "Reparenting By Committee," which refers to the support system we choose after leaving our families--Reparenting at its best is a yin/yang dynamic that balances the mutually enhancing processes of reparenting by others and self-reparenting. Reparenting sometimes needs to be initiated and modelled by someone else, such as a therapist, a sponsor, a kind friend or a supportive group to show us how to self-reparent ourselves.

As a little girl, I often dreamed of my future self: with long, flowing, wavy hair and wearing a floral long dress, wandering around the world. Whether in bustling cities or tranquil villages, I yearned to immerse myself in their unique cultures, savouring diverse cuisines, learning, creating, and dancing. Throughout this journey, I hoped to encounter people and form connections and friendships. Whether fleeting yet beautiful romantic encounters or lifelong bonds, I wanted to experience it all.

However, I aimed to be "content" alone first. Happy by myself, on my own. Then, when I encounter the person with whom I choose to share my time, they add to me as a "whole", not fill a "hole", so the moments, experiences, and time I share with others would enhance my life rather than depending on others to complete me.

At 27, I feel more at peace, confident, and comfortable than ever. Looking back at my younger self, I always felt overwhelmed by a multitude of problems, even though I didn't have much experience, I was eager to figure everything out, which led to confusion and anxiety. I constantly questioned whether I was good enough or "too much," or compared myself with others, listened to whatever people said to me, and always felt uneasy.

However, now, I truly enjoy who I am at this moment. I think the smile lines at the corners of my eyes are beautiful, and I like the little belly I have, I am aware sometimes I am impatient, impulsive, sensitive or hesitating, and I am more aware of my so many insecurities, and it's okay. Meanwhile, I feel a deep tenderness and love for myself, and I am strong enough now to protect myself, I have so much love to give me and my surroundings, and my surroundings are also providing me so much love, beauty and inspiration. This is a new feeling, I'm no longer in a rush to seek answers, fix things or be anxious about the future.

I'm learning to understand and accept myself.

It's now 6:30 PM, the sky is darkening, and I'm starting to feel hungry. So, I want to nurture myself as I would my child, tending to my needs with gentle care.

I ask myself, what do I want to have for tonight?

I crave my favourite salad: massaged fresh kale tossed with blue cheese, pear, roasted nuts, chia seeds, and sesame seeds, all dressed in a blend of freshly squeezed lemon juice, olive oil and a pinch of salt. I also long for a comforting bowl of pumpkin soup.

So, let's venture to the market and gather fresh ingredients to cook!

Speaking of which, I have another blog about food in the pending. I'll edit and publish it as soon as possible.

Lastly, I wish you a joyous Children's Day.

May you be as brimming with curiosity as your younger self, living in the moment, creating, and feeling.

At the same time, remember to be the guardian of your inner child—learn to nurture yourself, listen to your heart, and cherish your being.

Thank you for reading me.

I look forward to seeing you again soon.

Afterword

When I sent my first draft to my mother, she read it and then sent me her feedback:

On Children's Day, as usual, I calculated the time difference to send blessings to my child in a distant land. She was likely still asleep, and I didn’t want to disturb her.

As she grows, I feel a sense of returning to childhood myself.

She often sends me her writing, which I read over and over. Then, during our conversations, I tell her, "Mom has made a recent discovery: your thoughts are growing and maturing so quickly, while I seem to be moving in the opposite direction towards simplicity. Perhaps we are in some kind of balance."

She just smiles and says nothing, as if how I normally behave.

Her childhood was full of mischief. She didn’t just eat flower petals; she ate ants too. She didn’t just dig up earthworms outside; she brought them and the mud inside to play with her grandpa on the bed. Her grandpa not only completed her homework for her but also held her close as they conspired about what to say when I asked. With the utmost seriousness, she would say, "I did the calculations; Grandpa only wrote them down in my workbook for me."

Who could ever replicate Grandpa’s distinctive handwriting?

She is growing, her thoughts maturing, and she is healthy and happy. Despite the twists and turns, she has walked her path steadily.

Kahlil Gibran once wrote:

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,

Which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

May tomorrow be beautiful for my child.