From the Mouths of Babes 1 of 2

by Deborah Randall
(Laurel, Maryland, USA)

Little Debbie

Little Debbie

For decades I've led these Julia Cameron "Artist's Way" Circles/Workshops. She wrote the text in the 80's so it can feel dated but it always heals. I'm still writing three pages a morning and trying to have "artists dates" with my "inner child".


I think that helping other people is one of the most healing things a human can do. And now the lessons have all come to me with this sort of deep-soul integration.

At first when I connected with this image of myself as my inner-artist-child she was crying a lot. A lot. Truthfully, she had good reason. I had to learn to take her hand and listen. Mostly, she just wanted to play but no one would play with her. So, off I'd go to fly a kite or finger paint. Or do something that could be viewed as being a little "off" by an outside eye. Also, I did a lot of programming for young children. Taught Gymboree and launched BabyPlay at my Theatre Company. Creating this space for Moms and babies was SO BEAUTIFUL. The love was palpable and just AMAZING.

I was developing this relationship with the neglected part of myself, and Mothering her based on some really great examples.

I needed her too. To create my art. There are times when she would just say "NO! I WILL NOT COME OUT AND PLAY!!! You don't even love me you just want to play and then leave!"

There were many negotiations. Two hours of rehearsal for ten minutes of river wading. Two more hours for ice cream with sprinkles. Stuff like that.

In talk therapy I'd mention this work and the conversation would just keep flowing. My therapist would say, she will probably throw a lot of fits, she's pissed. I remember in particular one October when I had this entire internal dialogue in a grocery store with her. She wanted a pumpkin to carve and the adult me didn't want the mess, or the rotting that would surely follow. She was throwing fits. So, I said we could go to Michaels and get a styrofoam one, then she threw a bigger fit. Instead of being afraid of her temper I found myself laughing.

I mean, here I'm a grown woman with an inner child throwing a fit in the Safeway isle over a pumpkin! So, I ended up buying a tiny real pumpkin and drawing a face on it.

That was a real growth spurt in our developing relationship. A relationship that led to me figuring out how to Mother my own inner child. And recently, how to BE child protective services all these years later to get her out of there, even for a brief visit.

So, visits to my childhood home where much abuse took place really made her go away. I mean I couldn't sense that part of myself anymore AT ALL. When I'd get far enough along the highway on the way home I could sense her again but she was very sad and quiet.

I've also done a lot of energy work. Chakra work. And I had this overwhelming sense that she would disappear in my muscle tissue under my left collar bone near my heart but with hard bone to protect her. It was such a specific visualization.

A few weeks ago I blew up at my abuser, my Mother. All of my conditioning said that was WRONG. But, my heart and my spirit knew it was time. The next morning I woke up to this amazing energy experience. My heart chakra was wide open. It's like it had been a clenched fist and now a hundred points of light opened it up and were flying out of it leaving a warm-bright-fuzzy sensation.

With that sensation I had this imagery of my inner child again, only she was just born, and sort of right there in front of my heart and when I held out my arms and touched my fingertips it felt like I was holding this beautiful magical creature.

I had never visioned myself like that before. Had never seen myself before the harm had begun. And no matter what conditioning my brain-censor-tape was playing, this was some affirmation that could not be ignored.

Flash ahead a couple of weeks and I'm in the grocery isle again. I'm in touch with this four-year-old version of myself. She is SILLY now. I mean giddy SILLY! I have never seen her like this.

We got strawberries for a fresh pie. I've been eating a lot of grilled cheese and soda, so that's maybe not the best thing, but it feels good. She never threw a fit. She just giggled about stuff. And when something came up that would have normally made her pout or throw a fit she just started blowing raspberries and saying HILARIOUS things.

She says when I keep my house messy it's because "P-the-brat still lives there and that's how she likes it...confusing"

Mind you, this is all happening in my head and the guy buying bread next to me in the grocery isle has NO IDEA of my imaginings.

So, I come home and start journaling in her voice. It was fascinating. I asked her questions. She started calling my mom by her first name. And she told me I was a much better Mother. She said that P. is bratty.

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Bratty?

Yup. She always wants to be first and she always cries and she never shares and she's a fibber. Fibber fibber fibber insert raspberry blowing here. Blicky.

Why is she a fibber?

I don't know! She's two!

She's TWO!

Course she's two you know that.

I do?

Yup.

She's 62.

insert laugh laugh laugh laughter! No she's NOT. She's two. You're funny.

You're funny.

You're funny more raspberries

Tell me silly pants how she is two.

more laughter YOU'RE a silly pants. laugh laugh laugh Don't you see her?

I guess I don't. What does she look like?

eye rolls, legs swing with giddiness Nobody ever changes her diaper and she's always just sitting there crying for somebody to change her. She only wears a diaper and sucks on a bottle and she doesn't have any clothes and she never gets Mr. Bubble bubble baths and her hair is crunchy and she's a meanie pants and she has to be the best and the first and they won't pick her up! They won't even look at her so she just keeps screaming louder because she wants to be special and loved and she stinks and nobody wants to touch her or look at her.

Why won't they pick her up if she's just two and needs help?

Have you seen her?

Yes.

She's creepy. She's creepy and mean and her house doesn't have any place to play and she won't stop yelling and she thinks that she is the only one and she wants her Mommie and she won't come and when she does come she wants more and more and more and more and more and more and bllllllleeeeeeeeeck!

Well maybe she just needs to be cleaned up.

good luck! She'll bite you. She will. She will bite you and kick you in the eyeball and she will spit at your face and she will pinch you and scratch you and you should stay away from her because she will make you bleed. She will. I'm not a fibber she's a fibber. She's always screaming things and I don't know what she's saying. She just needs to scream. She NEEDS to scream because she doesn't know she's really here because everybody pretends like she's not. So, if you want her to bite you and make you bleed so she'll know her teeth are in you can but I WILL NOT PLAY WITH YOU ANYMORE!!! You always try to play with her and pretend I'm not here. I WILL GO AWAY AND NOT COME OUT AND PLAY WITH YOU AND I WILL NOT LOOK AT YOU. YOU WANT TO BE A BRATTY MEANIE??? tears now, meltdown

Calm down, I get it. I have to pick. I pick you.

Then, WHEN can we make the strawberry pie?

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Comments for From the Mouths of Babes 1 of 2

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Jul 23, 2008
WOW
by: Anonymous

You do have a way with words. Keep writing. I'm sure it must be cathartic for you.

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