"The wounds of childhood, deep and pre-verbal and way beyond the grasp of memory, are like footprints covered by new snow; they get hidden with time, sealed over, the traces of felt anguish difficult to perceive, even harder to access. And so the sorrow behind hunger tends to be acted out, described in symbol and code instead of nouns and verbs, the body and behavior communicating what words can’t quite capture.”
- Carolyn Knapp
I rarely felt safe as a little girl, growing up, in my home. It was a tumultuous place, where my parents played out their dramatic, rocky roller coaster of a marriage filled with unpredictabilities and even when things were going “good” I quickly learned not to trust those times, fleeting and ephemeral as they were. It was a constant carnival ride of passion and withholding, love and anger, pain and apologies, sadness and laughter. I never really knew what to expect. Would they love each other today? Would they love me?
And so I became an expert at listening, watching, monitoring everything from the sounds of doors closing (hard meant mad, soft meant happy) to voices, whispers, footsteps, faces. I learned to read them all.
I had to keep a close watch, had to stay on top, monitoring moods by the minute, that’s how quickly things could change. I would know by their response, the tone, the lilt, the punctuation, whether they were happy or mad, mean or nice. By their tone, we knew when to hide out, we knew when to lay low, play quietly or be extra good.
I’d also quickly grown adept and reading faces. As my mother's alcoholism developed, I developed the talent of being able to tell by the look on her face within one second of seeing her whether she had been drinking or not. I could look at my dad's face when he walked in the door after work whether or not we would have a good night. I could read my father’s footsteps down the hall and tell you whether he was in a mean mood or not. I could even tell by the “air” in the room if they were fighting, without hearing a word. They call this “hypervigilance” I’ve since learned. Back then, it was simply survival.
I’m only now beginning to make the connection with my chronic muscle tension and the chaos I grew up in. Loud noises meant something bad was happening. It makes sense to me now, that I jump and my muscles tense up when I hear an unexpected noise, even something as mundane as a door opening or shutting, any type of change in my auditory landscape.
How does a kid growing up in a home that doesn’t feel safe develop a sense of safety, so necessary for well-being and wholeness?
How do we survive upbringings where our physical and emotional well-being are threatened, where fear is the normal state?
Where does that fear go? It doesn’t just dissolve. No, unfortunately, the fear simply gets stored, written on the body, recorded in musculature and nerves, chemicals and mechanisms.
Being in a state of fear or having needs unmet as a child, being afraid of bodily harm, or damaging swings at the spirit creates a life-long pattern for the child, and the adult they become. Muscles tense when one is in fear, they contract in a “ready to spring” fight-or-flight instinctive response.
Eventually these muscles learn to always be tense, to always be on guard, ready for anything. It’s no wonder I’ve suffered from chronic back pain for years. Tension is my natural state. I wasn’t born that way, but it’s what I learned.
Unfortunately, simply learning these things about myself is not the out, the epiphany is not the reward, the cure. “Insight is the booby prize…” I’ve heard.
But the fact that I am bringing awareness to my back, to this tension, where before there had been unawareness is major progress, I know. I know that nothing changes until something changes. It has to start with awareness. Then comes the desire for a different way.
I've been looking for healing for a while now, seeking out cures, fixes to this pain, tired of resigning to it day after day. However, armed with this new information, this new understanding, I know that all the therapies and drugs and treatments I have been going through to bring end to the back pain will be ineffective until I retrain my muscles to exist in a relaxed state. My body must learn a new natural state.
Oh, if only simply knowing were enough, but no, that’s not how the Universe is designed.
After the knowing comes the work. After the epiphany comes the effort.
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