The next morning I wrote “The Child You Once Were”

 

THE CHILD YOU ONCE WERE

 

I embrace a newborn child.

I look deeply into her eyes.

For a moment I forget the troubles of this world.

I glimpse a world where love and peace prevail.

 

Blessed be the children!

They have so much to teach us.

They speak to the child we once were.

The child that understands love.

 

Why do we not learn from the children?

Busy, hurried adults have forgotten

how to play, how to cry, how to laugh.

 

I pray that this baby in my arms

will never grow old at heart.

May she remember the fountain of youth

and take time to journey there often.

 

May I learn to trust like the children.

There are fountains of youth everywhere.
If we search our hearts and open our minds

we will find them.

 

Let them not forget that they are love.

May they never know hatred or fear.

Their hearts are pure.
I need their love each day.

 

Time passes.

The sun does not shine forever

said a voice to me.

The storms will pass our way.

The roses fade.

At night we all must sleep.

 

One day Death will embrace us.

Her touch is not cold.

She reminds us that we have completed a journey.

We can take leave of our bodies when Death calls.

 

Then again will we see clearly

like the newborn child I hold in my arms.

Learn to see clearly.

Learn to love everyone.

You can know peace

when you listen to the child you once were.

          I sighed.  “Ah, to be in touch with the child we once were.” I said.  “If we go back and find our inner child then life has been worthwhile.”  I thought of the years I was so out of touch with mine, or at least the part of him that was playful, spontaneous and daring.  I was very in touch with the fearful, scared, wanting to please everyone little boy, which in TA (Transactional Analysis) is called “the adaptive child.“  He is always trying to adapt to the situation he finds himself in.  In the foster homes I felt I had to be nice to everyone and hold my anger inside lest I get tossed out.  My adaptive inner child practically ruled my life then.

          My childhood years were very unhappy ones.   My father was a strict, tyrannical, abusive man.  Nothing we could ever do pleased him. If we got 3  A’s, 2 B’s and 1 C on our report cards, he ranted and raved about the one C and punished us.  If we got into mischief during the day, as kids are wont to do, he yanked us out of bed at night to spank us.  Mom usually did not punish us.  She waited until dad came home and complained how bad we were bad all day, when all we did was simple mischief like wrestling on the beds, or sneaking into the “forbidden freezer” for an ice cream cone or something.  To this day I am a light sleeper due to many nights of being dragged out of bed and spanked for something we should have been punished for by mom earlier when the baleful deed was done.

          Dad should have been a military sergeant because he liked bossing people around.  He did not know the meaning of the word compliment, and he had no patience for the jovial noise making and clatter that goes along with having five kids.  “Make those kids shut up” he’d yell at mom nearly every day because he worked third shift at General Electric and had to sleep during the day.  I do not believe any man who plans on being a halfway decent father should work third shift.  It is about as much a match in my opinion as ice cream and fire.

          I sighed.  “Ah, to remember the child we once were,” I thought of the classic Nat King Cole “The Christmas song” line which says “And so I’m offering This simple phrase to kids from 0ne to 92”.  That song always makes me smile.  Fortunately, not all adults become boring, and serious and it is a real treat when we meet one with that sparkling twinkle in their eyes.  I thought of the first day I met my opera coach Janette who was to become more of a mother to me than my real mother.  I was taking a musical theatre class my second term of college and she was the teacher. 

          Janette began the first class by doing a little song and dance number from South Pacific, the musical we would be putting on.  I was immediately drawn to that million dollar smile on her face and her childlike sense of playful spontaneity.  She constantly joked and teased us.  That class was so fun.  Actually, it was her sense of humor and fun that made us work even harder for her.  We realized how fun work can be, and I say blessed are those who find work that is truly fun and enjoyable.  Some musicians play for a living, why can’t the rest of us? I asked Leslie one day.  “Why, I suppose if you work hard enough at it, I’m sure you can play for a living,” she replied, snickering.

          Therapy and reading many Psychology and self-help books helped me get back in touch with my inner child.  It takes effort and time to heal the hurts.  Therapy taught me that the adult part of us can become the nurturing, loving parent to ourselves that we were denied in childhood.  I say if I can do it, then anyone can.  Janette says when she first met me I nearly always had a frown on my face.  I never laughed at jokes and I almost always had a gloomy disposition.  Looking back, I see that I was not always like that, but a fair enough amount of time I was.           

          Elizabeth told me one day that one of the reasons she came into my life was to help me find my inner child, “Little Michael” as she referred to him.  The other reason was to help me find the strong masculine part of myself who was my protector and warrior.  She would call it “warrior training school.”  I remember one day my room-mate took a pair of shoes that were very special to me without asking my permission.  When I told Elizabeth  I said, “Maybe it should not bother me, but it does.  I know they are just a pair of shoes, but there are three things I do not like sharing:  my tooth brush, my underwear and my shoes.  Anything else is up for grabs.”

           “How about your eye lashes?” she joked.  “They are longer and prettier than most women’s.  Seriously though, what are you going to do about your room-mate taking your shoes?”

          “I dunno,” I said,  “try not to make a big deal out of it, I guess.”

          “This might not be a big deal to adult you, but to little Michael This is a very big deal.  You wonder why you are depressed half the time.  You keep letting things like this happen.  Little Michael has a right to his shoes.  Didn’t you say you bought them out of your own hard earned money?”

          “Yes, I did,” I said, lighting into a smile.  “I took my first paycheck from Stoney Crest hotel and bought them.  They were expensive too, and I keep them polished and shiny.  That’s why they look brand new.”

          “And you have a right to keep them that way.”

          “Aren’t we supposed to share?”

          “Sometimes and some things. Yes, we should not be selfish and sharing is good.  But there are things we need not share.  You need to call on your inner warrior and let your room-mate know that he is not welcome to take your shoes again.”

          I was surprised at how fast I reacted.  That night I told Carl he was to lay off of my shoes.  To my surprise he apologetically said that he did not even wear them.  He just forgot and left them in my room.  Sometimes we just need someone to give us permission to stand up for ourselves.  There were to be many more “warrior training” experiences like that, and I found out that developing self assertion skills is like anything else, the more we practice, the better and easier it becomes.

          In one of my sessions I went back to “the child I was once” and relived a scene where dad called me a sissy for loving to read instead of romping and playing more sports.  “You’re just a little sissy,” he’d say, “always reading, such a little book worm you are.  Why don’t you be a real boy and go out and play football?  When I was about six I went through my dressing up like a girl phase.  My sister Linda had this lovely little white dress with blue lace.  I adored that dress and would sneak and put it on sometimes.  One day my father barged in and caught me.  “You big sissy,” he yelled.  “You should have been a girl.  If I ever catch you in a dress again, I will cut your wee wee off and you can sit on the toilet and pee like girls do.” 

          Needless to say, I was frightened out of my wits, and experiences like that gave me quite a few complexes and emotional hang ups which took years to overcome.  For years I could not stand to take a shower with the boys in gym class or use public urinals.  However emotionally vulnerable and perhaps somewhat fragile and over-sensitive I was as a child, still another part of me resisted my father’s constant badgering and vowed I would show him.  Now, I believe that my father was one of my greatest teachers in “warrior training school”.  I felt like the character in that Johnny Cash song, “A boy named Sue” when he finally meets up with my father and says, “It’s that name that made me strong.”  Of course, it took many years to realize that.  When dad would make fun of me and call me “sissy” I’d curse him under my breath. 

          In time I have learned to trust again like the children who still trust, and I have been able to forgive my father for being a monster.  The “Children learn what they live” posters is one of my favorites.  Reading it over the years has reminded me that children tend to repeat the mistakes of their parents if they do not get help.  Like parent like child so often becomes the case.  My father’s childhood was also difficult.   He received very little attention and affection from his family, and his childhood was difficult.  He wanted to go to high school but had no decent clothes to wear.  My grand father, who was a miser, would not buy him any.  Nonetheless, I am convinced he could have gotten help if he had reached out for it, as I am convinced that none of us are doomed to be victims of dysfunctional, unhappy childhoods.  The family curse, as my sister calls it, can be overcome.  Who said it was easy, but then again, as a lady used to tell me, “Michael, nothing worthwhile comes that easily.”

          My entire life seemed to be learning about that but having to work so hard at everything made me appreciate the results even more.  That alone made all the work worthwhile.  I would be tested over and over but I still hold to this thought to the bottom of my heart.