More then once I was told, "Why don't you just snap out of it?" I marvel at the possibility that someone thinks I want to stay that way. If I could have snapped out of it, I would have bruised my fingers snapping so many times to get myself out of that deep well of depression. When I have felt mildly sad, disappointed, cranky, I can take myself to task and give myself an attitude adjustment. Other times I slip well past this self-rescue plateau. I do understand when someone says, "Snap out of it," their intentions are good and their perspective, in my opinion, is top down. They are not down in the well of depression and can't imagine not being able to get out on their own. How do I describe to someone else that I am in such a dark place there isn't any light? There is no awareness of where out is. I work very hard at not getting to that place to begin with. Once I had been there at that level of hopelessness I work at not going there again. I started recognizing early signs. I developed distraction strategies. I learned what I could to prevent the spiral down into darkness. What I didn't know was how they happened. Have you ever played the marble game that you try to get the marble through a hand held wooden maze with holes in it? (See picture below.) You are moving the marble along when bloop the marble drops down the hole. I didn't know what to do when I dropped down those mental holes into deep depression.
Along came KavinCoach. I described the problem to him. He asked about my childhood. I was puzzled by the redirect. What did my childhood have to do with my dark holes? I answered what I always said since high school, "It was great! I went to the park. I went to the Zoo. It was a great childhood."
He then asked me to tell him an average day. In flat tones I replied, "It was great. I went to the park. I went to the zoo."
He was the first person that had ever challenged me, "You have no idea about your childhood."
I sheepishly confessed that I didn't have a clue. I was amazed in high school that anyone could remember their childhood. He asked me my earliest memory. I answered sometime in junior high. Part of counseling is a conversation where a person tells the counselor their past and as an adult they review those childhood events with a different perspective. The counselor suggests different ways they can now view those past events. But what do they do, when there is nothing to tell? In my mind there was a massive dark wall between me and my past. What followed was that over the next several weeks I was given books to read and to report back my reaction to the book. The first book I read was Dave Pelzer's A Child Called It. Dave's story is a severe child abuse cases in California in the 1970's era. I read the book. I brought it back and calmly asked, "What do you want me to learn from this?"
KavinCoach responded, "How do you feel about it?"
I shrugged and said, "Bad things happen to kids. What do you want me to learn from it?"
KavinCoach assigned several more books each more violent than the last. Each time I would come back and ask, "What do you want me to learn from it?"
The final book was on the Holocaust. I finally responded "What do you want me to learn from it is the wrong answer." KavinCoach assured me there was no right answer. KavinCoach learned a lot about me and my lack of response to the violence that can happen in this world. This was the first clue I had that my childhood was not great. For me, bloop meant I had fallen through that dark wall into my past. It was time to shine some light on my childhood.
Along came KavinCoach. I described the problem to him. He asked about my childhood. I was puzzled by the redirect. What did my childhood have to do with my dark holes? I answered what I always said since high school, "It was great! I went to the park. I went to the Zoo. It was a great childhood."
He then asked me to tell him an average day. In flat tones I replied, "It was great. I went to the park. I went to the zoo."
He was the first person that had ever challenged me, "You have no idea about your childhood."
I sheepishly confessed that I didn't have a clue. I was amazed in high school that anyone could remember their childhood. He asked me my earliest memory. I answered sometime in junior high. Part of counseling is a conversation where a person tells the counselor their past and as an adult they review those childhood events with a different perspective. The counselor suggests different ways they can now view those past events. But what do they do, when there is nothing to tell? In my mind there was a massive dark wall between me and my past. What followed was that over the next several weeks I was given books to read and to report back my reaction to the book. The first book I read was Dave Pelzer's A Child Called It. Dave's story is a severe child abuse cases in California in the 1970's era. I read the book. I brought it back and calmly asked, "What do you want me to learn from this?"
KavinCoach responded, "How do you feel about it?"
I shrugged and said, "Bad things happen to kids. What do you want me to learn from it?"
KavinCoach assigned several more books each more violent than the last. Each time I would come back and ask, "What do you want me to learn from it?"
The final book was on the Holocaust. I finally responded "What do you want me to learn from it is the wrong answer." KavinCoach assured me there was no right answer. KavinCoach learned a lot about me and my lack of response to the violence that can happen in this world. This was the first clue I had that my childhood was not great. For me, bloop meant I had fallen through that dark wall into my past. It was time to shine some light on my childhood.
Resource:
Marble Maze Picture
Dave Pelzer, A Child Called It Amazon Books A Child Called It
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