Mother Kym (part 1)

My mother loved me very much. She just didn’t know how to show it. My mom died in May of 2012. I have nothing but empathy and love for her. She didn’t get mothering as a child, and her generation wasn’t remotely aware of personal development. So she could never give me what she never got. 

Contrary to what some believe, the work I'm doing actually creates more love and empathy, not less, for my parents. I understand my mother so much better. I understand her suffering. Because it’s the same suffering I experienced. Although I’m glad she isn’t around to read this, I wish she was still here so I could continue my relationship with her. My mom and I got much closer as we got older. When I visited her in her senior living pad, we would always hold hands. That never happened when I was younger. 

My version of what healthy mothering looked like before I got into treatment was incomplete and somewhat distorted. Because I never got it, I really didn’t know what healthy mothering was. I’ve begun separating mothering from what I want and need in an intimate relationship. Eventually, I won’t look to my lover to mother me, consciously or unconsciously, so I won’t have to bite back on it. That means I won’t inadvertently and unintentionally create any of the distance that is an unavoidable by-product of shutting down a need. 

Nurturing the child. Preparing the child for the road ahead. Protecting the child. Those are The Big Three for a mom. I didn't get that. Many of us don't. It leaves wounds and scars. Because my own mom was emotionally unavailable, I had no clue about those elements. Therefore, there was no way I could satisfactorily give them to myself. 

In EMDR, my therapist and I recreated an actual scenario where I felt awful and went to my mom for help. But I had to imagine it happening much differently than it actually did. And I had to pick another woman to be my mom. I picked my cousin Kym. Not because I relate to her as my mother, but because she’s the best mom I could possibly imagine. I’ve seen her with her boys, and I see the young men they are becoming. She’s everything I could ever want in a mom. I can’t list those qualities; it would take up the rest of the page.

Many of us challenged by unresolved issues from childhood, especially the deep scars caused by severe fractures in the relationship with a parent, can benefit from EMDR. It's a valuable modality for depression, ADHD, trauma, and most other mental and emotional health disorders. I encourage anybody aware of these issues, or wants to deepen their work, to look into it. And contact me if you are looking for more details on my experience. I would be more than happy to offer you whatever I'm able to.

Join me tomorrow, when I take you through this very powerful experience.

©2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

The Frankenstein Mom (MotherLand part 3)

Some of the most fertile ground for growth and healing is an intimate love relationship. Because such relationships bring up all of our deepest, well, everything, if you both love each other like fire, are each committed to personal development, and are both devoted to fully support each other on this journey, a healthy love relationship is a remarkable place, a magnificent gift, for transformation. 

Part of the therapy I’m doing is what I call The Frankenstein Mom Process (that’s not an official term, just my name for it). What I do is, with the help of a therapist, create a mom. And I create this mom from other women who embody the qualities that I would have wanted in my own mother (hence, Frankenstein). For me, these women are my Aunty You-You, my sister Cheryl, my cousin Kym, and my Aunty Barbara. 

Initially, the wall I immediately ran into when asked by the therapist who I think of when I think of being mothered, my heart and mind go right to my recent ex-love (if I was currently with somebody, it would go to her). When asked who I think of when I think of mothering qualities like nurturing, loving, affectionate, tender, attentive, and warm; when asked who I want giving that to me, I think of my most recent ex-love. That’s because I’ve completely sexualized all those qualities. Yes, one more dysfunctional behavior. Stick around. There’s more.

Because I sexualize these qualities, the only woman I want giving me that mothering is the woman I’m in love with, or the most recent woman I was in love with. Now, if you asked any woman I’ve ever been in love with if I was “needy”, and wanted to be mothered, I doubt any of them would describe me that way. That’s because when I was with those women, I’m aware, on a conscious level, that I want them to mother me. But I also know how unattractive that can be. So I bite back on that need, at all costs. I shut it down. Because I don’t want the woman I’m with to see me as weak, needy, or basically, a big pussy. I’m not saying I’m not loving, tender, gentle, and vulnerable with my lover. Because I absolutely am. But needing to be mothered? No way. I don’t want her to ever see that in me.

This is all my stuff, never hers. Part of it is my own male macho ego bullshit. You can call me stupid, unattractive, even old. I don’t react too strongly, because I know I’m none of those. But call a guy a pussy? If he’s got unresolved mother issues like this, it’s a huge trigger. Probably his biggest. Because it goes right to the core wound. And, because of the social context. The worst thing a guy can be called, at least in my mind, in today’s culture, is a “pussy”. That means he can’t take care of himself. That means he can’t take care of his queen. With a woman, I would think calling her ugly or unattractive would hit the same nerve.

The problem is, whenever I bite back on a need, any need, I pull back, I pull away, even just a little. I’m not aware that I’m doing it. It’s just a natural and unavoidable consequence of holding something that deep back. But the need doesn’t go away. It just gets stuffed. And stuffing isn’t good. For me. For her. For the relationship. 

I’ve never been able to fully articulate this until now, which is another reason no woman ever knew that about me. And, because I attach a shitload of toxic shame to this need to be mothered. If I had ever been able to articulate this issue clearly, and drop the shame around it, I would have been able to share it. 

Well I’m doing that now. Most importantly, I’m learning to give it to myself. And, let me tell you, it’s like getting rid of a sack of bricks I’ve been carrying my whole fuckin’ adult life. It’s like sprouting wings.

Sharing this with my lover would be part of healing it (that and me doing whatever work I need). If she loves me enough, is doing her work, and is solid enough, she can handle it. My last love was all of that. But I wasn’t yet in a place where I could open that up. Live and learn.

When you’ve got no memory of your real mother giving this to you, and aren’t yet able to give enough of it to yourself, you end up, eventually, putting that on your lover. Or, just never sharing that. And in the long run, neither options work. Women who had poor fathers and haven’t completely cleared this up do it to their men, too. 

When both partners are aware of this dynamic, are working at it on their own (through whatever methods are effective for them), then the relationship becomes a beautiful place to share this and deal with it, together. And both of you will most likely be dealing with it, to some degree, for the rest of your lives. Because we never get completely rid of this. We heal it enough, and learn how to handle it better. 

That’s a good thing, in my book. Because it’s one more place for the two of you to get real, get vulnerable, share, connect, love each other up, and heal. 

And that, to me, is just fuckin’ beautiful. 

©2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

MotherLand (part 2)

There’s an Alanon saying that goes “Intimate relationships will put Miracle Grow on all of your character flaws”. Nothing brings up our deepest, darkest shit like intimate love relationships. This is true mainly because we recreate our relationships with mom and dad when we, as adults, have intimate love relationships. On the flip side, nothing brings out our most loving, brightest selves like intimate love relationships either. And this makes sense from a metaphysical perspective. Carl Jung said “The brighter the light, the darker the shadow”. When our highest selves are brought out, our darkest selves are too. You’ve heard the expression, “She (or he) brings out the best, and the worst, in me”. Yup. Bingo.

My abandonment trauma started, literally, at birth. I was in the womb with my twin brother for nine months. I was lucky. I had twice the company in there: him, and my mom. Then, BAM! We were born. At 3 pounds, 9 ounces, they got my ass into an incubator, pronto. Mike and mom went home. 

In 1963, IncubationLand was not the Shangri-La it is today; back then it was basically a big metal tube. Your family, not even your own mother, was allowed to come in and hold you, touch you, or feed you. The only people not off limits to these sterile infant grounds were the hospital staff. For the first three weeks of life, I had virtually zero human contact, and absolutely none from the only two people I knew on the planet.

I know that I have a memory of this. Not a conscious one I can access, but one that is stored in my body and in the subconscious. I believe we all have some memories like that.

 Abandonment is my Deepest Attachment Wound. I mean, how far back can you go than birth (the possibility of past lives aside)? My abandonment shit goes into Hyper Warp Drive whenever a woman I’m in love with is gone; regardless of why she’s gone. The fact is, she’s not here anymore. Logic goes out the window with this stuff. At least until you start to dig it up and pull it apart. And pulling it apart is not strictly a cognitive process. In fact, if it remains strictly cognitive, you don’t get very far. You’ve got to go deeper. Because some of these cuts go so far into the brain they become unconscious. They go into the fabric of the body. We aren’t even aware of them. We go on auto pilot, and that’s when we get into real trouble.

There are cognitive processes like trauma education, central nervous system and stress response education, group therapy, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), Didactic Behavioral Therapy (DBT), individual therapy, and more. All of these modalities inform us about what drives our dysfunctional behavior. They give us priceless information and they educate us on how to apply that information. 

But again, we can’t stop with the mind. We must go into the heart. Into the body. Procedures such as Somatic Experiencing, Psychodrama, acupuncture, cranial sacral therapy, yoga, and meditation, all work the body, heart, and  the mind. These modalities are more comprehensive. Trauma must be healed, I believe, with as much of this as we can handle, emotionally, and,  given our resources. Think of it like a cocktail of healing. 

Everyone’s journey through this mission (“should you choose to accept it”) is different. The common denominators for all of us are awareness, desire, openness, hard work, time, and trust in the process. I have made so much progress because; I wanted it real bad, I showed up, I worked my ass off, and I trusted that things were happening; much of which I could not consciously experience or feel at the time. And everything builds on everything else. It’s cumulative.

Continue with me on this most amazing journey. If you are open the process of healing yourself, and thus contribute to healing and growing your relationships, I promise you will glean some gold from it. If I’m wrong, double your money back.

©2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rightsa reserved. 

Leviathan

My recovery from trauma and depression, and all the maladaptive behaviors that go with it, is akin to a deep dive into a black hole. I wasn’t sure what was at the bottom of that hole, but I was willing to jump. Because if I stayed where I was, at the precipice of that dark, cavernous maw, my life wasn’t going to get any better. In fact, it was going to get worse.

So I took a leap of faith. The ride down has been beautiful; also painful, and the most challenging thing I have ever done. I made great progress. I got better. I healed. I inspired people and impacted lives. I kept going, and the deeper I dove, the better I got. 

Recently, I had a breakdown. Like I hit a sharp lip on the way down the hole.

And fuck, does it hurt.

It’s battered me like nothing else has yet. It’s bloodied me something fierce. It’s opened up my deepest wounds; wounds so old, I can’t remember where I got most of them. Wounds that I knew about, but that only bled occasionally. Now I’m hemorrhaging. Now, I have no choice but to heal these wounds. 

I’ve spent most of my adult life either running from, or bandaging, these deep, massive cuts. I, foolishly perhaps, thought they had scarred over enough so that, maybe, they wouldn’t open up so bad again that they would bleed all over my life.

I was wrong. 

Now, I’m up against it. Up against that which I knew, eventually, I would have to face. I’ve opened a wound that I knew I would have to heal.

The core wound is Abandonment. Specifically, early childhood abandonment. And all the other wounds it creates.

In technical terms, it comes under the umbrella of “Developmental Relational Trauma”. It happens early in life and continues to get reenacted. I mention that because, a lot, if not most of us, have this. Some of us have these cuts much deeper than others. Some of us, for a myriad of reasons, aren’t as effected by them. We all develop coping mechanisms; some, more effective than others. In adulthood, this trauma manifests itself most intensely in intimate love relationships, and the way we attach to others in those relationships.

This is my Core Trauma. I thought I had done enough work, picked up enough tools, and enough skill with those tools, to deal with this one more effectively.

Wrong again.

So I have to dive deeper still. Into the very darkest depths of this abyss. I have more diving to do. I’ve got more work, to do. 

I knew I wasn’t at the bottom yet. I just didn’t think I was this far from the bottom. Maybe I’m not. Maybe it just feels that way right now. Doesn’t really matter. Because I’m not stopping, no matter what. 

I could look at this like I’m even more fucked up than I thought. There are moments, I still do. But that sentiment won’t last. Because if there is one thing I have been, through all of this, is tenacious. I’ve faced every fear with a voracity I didn’t know I had. 

I will eventually see the opening of this gash as another amazing gift. I will get through this the way I have gotten through everything else I’ve faced over the past three months. I will come out of this with more healing, more growth, and a higher version of myself. This, just like everything else I’ve faced, will contribute to my being far more free.

But right now, it just fuckin’ hurts.

©2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved. 

Body Addiction (part 2)

It wasn't that I couldn't identify my positive qualities; it was that I had trouble owning them. I struggled with internalizing, and sometimes even believing, that I had an awful lot to offer. I didn't know it in my heart. How could I, when my core belief was that I was a defective model of humankind? There were plenty of times that I felt good, or even great, about myself; but, like clouds of smoke, such self love was fleeting and ethereal. I was operating on a wispy foundation instead of a solid one. I had to become my own rock. 

Residential treatment felt like a warm, loving soup with many ingredients, some of which I could taste, and some of which, although I knew they were there, could not. Whenever I was asked by the staff what was working for me, I would reply "All of it". I wasn't being smug. Truth is, I wasn't exactly sure what was happening, but I sure as shit knew something was. The mix of group therapy, individual therapy, Integrative Therapies (EMDR, Somatic Experiencing, Acupuncture), learning about my Central Nervous System's maladaptive stress response, Depression/Anxiety Education, Trauma Education, Meditation, and the the loving support of an amazing community, (to name just some of what I got) all worked synergistically to start moving mountains inside of me.

Most important was my absolute commitment and dedication to the work. I put everything I had into everything that was offered.  At lectures - there were lots, and I never missed one - I took lots of notes, asked lots of questions, and often shared about my own experience. It felt like I was back in school, which I was. This time, I was going for a PhD in Me. 

My approach from the get go was that of a rabid student, starving for knowledge. I always did well in school, especially in higher education, and I ate the whole experience up like a ravenous wolverine that hadn't eaten all winter (which kinda describes how I looked, and felt). I applied myself as if my life depended on it. Because it did. 

I said "Yes" to everything, even stuff I didn't understand, thought was useless, or didn't particularly want to do. I let go of resistance and jumped in the deep end, even if the water was freakin' frigid. I got something out of everything. I surrendered to the process, figuring the people running the place knew more about this shit than I did. I trusted. And then I worked my ass off; although when I entered treatment, down to 159 pounds, I didn't have much of an ass left.

I didn't like how I looked; my other coping strategies had been removed from my environment; and I was absolutely determined to leave treatment in a better place than I had ever been. Because of all that, things started shifting in me right away.

The one thing I didn't have was hope. Well, my heart had hope, because the heart's hope is eternal. The heart can be so much smarter than the mind. My mind had grown very cynical of ever being able to let go of the negative self talk that was railroading my life. But my heart remained as optimistic as ever. My biggest problem was my mind; and for years I had been going to my mind for the solution. I mean, Duh. That's like pouring gasoline on a fire to put it out. 

That said, my mind does play a big part in my healing. I found the lectures fascinating. The information provided a solid mental and intellectual container for all the work I was doing. Learning about all this stuff helped my mind let go. Everything I was hearing about trauma, depression, anxiety, the central nervous system, stress response, and mindfulness, made so much sense to me, and was so very representative of my own life long experience, that my mind bought it, completely. Once that happened, my head only played ball when it had to; the rest of the time, it stayed on the sidelines. It stopped working overtime to protect me.

That's an absolutely critical point. I'm what's known, clinically, as "Hyper-Vigilant". That means I'm subconsciously always diligently scanning the environment for potential threats, for danger, even when I'm in safe environments. We all do this to some degree, as part of our natural survival instinct. But for some of us, that activity has become maladaptive; it's literally in constant overdrive. Brain wave activity is a tell tale indicator, and they can see that in Bio-Neurofeedback (another modality I received in treatment). It's like this: all kids are active. But some kids are literally, hyper-active. And that causes problems.

Growing up, I was surrounded by bullshit. I was surrounded by lies. And my environments often didn't feel emotionally stable. At home. In school. Unstable environments and bullshit often ended up hurting me. Being a very intuitive and very sensitive kid, I picked up 'lots of channels", and I could smell bullshit. And it always felt like the proverbial other shoe could always drop at any second, and often did. But when that bullshit isn't validated as bullshit; when I'm told I'm safe when I don't feel safe; when I'm told that the lies are the truth, I start questioning my own experience. I stopped believing myself. And I stopped trusting that I'm ever emotionally safe (not to mention I stopped trusting anybody, period). Then, when I constantly got burned by lies, half truths, bullshit, and emotionally unstable environments, I became overly concerned with protecting myself from all of that. I experienced life as dangerous. So I adapted, or maladapted, to feel safer. I learned to always be on guard. That creates an over active mind and an over active central nervous system. And that creates chronic stress, anxiety, and some other dysfunctional behaviors.

As I write this, I realize that there's a "Part 3" here, so I'm gonna stop now and ask you to join me for it. 

©2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.