Mother Kym (part 2)

Lots of kids are bullied. I sure as shit was. It was worse than a mind fuck. It was a heart and soul fuck. Not only did I not know, as a child, how to defend myself, verbally, physically, or emotionally, but once the event happened, bringing it to mom made it worse. So I just stopped bringing it. Being completely ill equipped to handle such a thing, the event would stay with me and rattle around inside of me, indefinitely. I would go to my head and try to work it out. That’s certainly one reason I can be in my head so much if I’m not being mindful. I learned to do that very young, and those neural pathways got forged in steel.

With my EMDR therapist, we did an exercise where I recreate a specific, shitty, traumatic bullying experience. But I pick another woman to be my mom (my cousin Kym, the best mother I could possibly imagine), because my real mom wasn't able to give me what I needed. Then, I recreate the experience the way I would have wanted it to go down. 

It looks like this: 

I get physically bullied by an older kid at school and bring it home to Mother Kym. She consoles me. Wipes away my tears. Listens to me. Holds me. Loves me up. Makes me stop feeling bad about myself. She tells me what a wonderful little kid I am, and tells me she knows how awful this must feel. She gives me some ice cream and we start talking about something else, something I’m really interested in, like dinosaurs (I still find them endlessly fascinating). Then she calls the parents of the jerk-off that did this to me, and tells them, respectfully but in no uncertain terms, that their son is to leave me the hell alone.

Then, she teaches me how to kick some ass.

After four weeks of involving dad and other people to teach me what to do, I approach the bully in school. Since Mother Kym made the phone call, I’ve been on the receiving end of countless taunts from the bully and his cronies for involving her. But I’ve been able to withstand that, because Mother Kym and I have processed it, and I have some new resiliency regarding verbal abuse. I believe that kids have to fight their own battles. But the kid needs help. The kid has to be thought how to do that, by adults. It doesn’t happen by magic.

The bully tells me he’s not gonna apologize, and starts taunting me again. I ask him once more. He laughs. Then, I do the last thing he expects; I smack him right in the kisser. Hard. In front of all his friends. I’ve been practicing this for a month, so I know how and where to land a punch. He goes down like a sack of bricks, holding his bloody nose and bloody mouth, yelping like a dog. I say to him, “Don’t ever fuck with me, or my friends, again.” Then I walk away. Scene (that’s a theatre term for “End”).

I’m not a proponent of violence. However, I believe, in certain situations, you have to make a statement. A bold, loud as fuck statement; one that echoes long after it’s made. A statement that brings peace, self-assurance, and safety to the one who made it. This is that situation. This is that statement. In the world of elementary school, no one is likely to fuck with me again. I feel safe. Something I never actually felt, ever, as a kid.

Therapeutically, combined with EMDR, this stuff works because it powerfully forges new neural pathways that I build on. I immediately felt better after the session. I often know how to appropriately stand up for myself as an adult. But that doesn’t heal the original wound until I create something new around that specific trauma from childhood. And as long as the original wound is still there, there’s still the possibility of maladaptive behavior associated with events that trigger it. For example, nowadays when my blood does get up, I can sometimes act inappropriately and blow my top. Or, sometimes I’ll freeze, because my central nervous system shuts down. Those responses are a result of trauma. And neither works. 

The man I’m becoming is completely secure in his ability to act appropriately and take care of himself, and anybody he's with, if necessary, in any situation. It's also important I give fitting breadth to the word "appropriate"; because it's not completely objective. It's a space on a continuum, not an absolute point. Not recognizing that doesn't honor my own standards, values, and unconventional nature. If I'm present and in the flow of my own personal power, I'll choose behavior that serves the situation and myself. In an extreme example, as an adult, I know how to fight, but it won’t come to that, unless I'm physically threatened and have no other options. Because, otherwise, I can’t be bothered with your bullshit. I rise above it, because I am above it. I don’t care about you being a jackass or trying to pick a fight anymore then I care about a tiny spider crawling across my foot.

And that’s all I got to say about that…….for now.

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

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. 

MotherLand (part 1)

As adults, virtually all of us recreate intimate love relationships that mirror, in complex ways, the childhood relationship we had with our opposite-sex parent (Woman/Dad, Man/Mom). As adults, we do this in an effort to “get it right” this time. We try it again, and want to fix whatever didn’t work, once for all, and live happily ever after. 

There is crossover as well. Meaning that our relationships with our lovers is also a function of how we related to our same sex parent. For example, my dad was a very affectionate, demonstrative, loving man. I learned that it was okay for a man to show his emotions. With woman and with men.

Most of this is unconscious. When we make it conscious, we can do something about it. We can pull it apart and find out what the hell’s going on in the depths of our hearts, in the recesses of our minds, that drive most of our behavior in relationships (especially the less than stellar behavior). When we dig it up and make it conscious, we have the ability to make different choices.

In my post “Clint & Little John”, I described my experience of developing a stronger dialogue between my adult man and my inner kid. I literally had to create a father, from scratch, who knew how to talk to and what to say when Little John (my inner child’s name) was suffering and in lots of pain. I had to create that parent because my dad wasn’t good at this at all. His method of getting me to feel better when I would come to him in tears would be one of two ways. Either he would try and convince me that the situation really wasn’t that bad (such logic rarely works on an 8 year old having a meltdown); or, worse yet, he would try and talk me out of how I felt. Neither methods validated anything I was experiencing, or helped ease any pain. 

It came from love, because my dad really did want me to feel better. And that was all dad knew how to do. But kids can’t understand all that. All I knew as a kid was, that, whenever I went to my dad when I was really upset, I usually felt worse afterwards. So I stopped going to him, or anybody else, when I was in a lot of pain. 

What about mom? She was, god bless her, no better. My mother was not at all comforting or nurturing if I went to her in pain. Unless I was physically ill. Mom was then a source of great support. Maybe because physical illness is concrete, tactile, and can be measured with a thermometer (remember the rectal ones? Those were a joy). But, tears and cries of emotional pain and hurt?….much more tricky, for a lot of people, not just my mom. She didn’t hug, she didn’t console, she didn’t offer much of anything in that department. She didn't know how. She came from a family of 9 kids. And her mom worked her ass off as well. Sorry. You can't be there for 9 kids emotionally and hold down a job. Even Wonder Woman would strike out there. So mom was out too. 

I hold absolutely no resentments towards my parents. They loved me and did the best they could. So often, people are reluctant to do this type of work because they believe it will dishonor their parents. Actually, this work eventually leads us to love and respect our parents even more. But you have to walk through the fire to get to the gold. That's just the way it works.

Which leads me to the work I’m doing now. It’s Very Heavy “Mom Stuff”, and how that shit manifests itself in my relationships with women. And it is a motherfucker (how could I not use that word there?).

This is the very deep work that I am now facing: the stuff at the very bottom of my emotional hole. I’ve been aware of lots of this stuff, and done considerable work on it throughout adulthood. I’ve learned a lot about myself from it, and it has helped me have progressively better relationships with my intimate partners. But, there is some stuff so far down the hole, I’ve had to do some serious digging. And digging can be very painful.

Follow me on my journey through this work. I hope it inspires you to dig deep and do whatever you need to create as much positive energy as possible in your intimate relationships. Not only will we love more fully, more completely, more beautifully than ever before, we’ll do it in a healthier way. We’ll be more mindful and more aware when we love our special someone. Our relationships will become less about recreating our past and more about creating something new and amazing and special with the one we love. 

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