"Helpful" things I learned at the age of 2

My last post was about living life at the age of 13. Well, friends, I am regressing. I am now facing shit I conjured up at the age of 2, it seems.

Here's some background: around the age of 2, my mother decided to have some kind of emotional breakdown. She was young, educated, and I think completely unsuited for motherhood. Except that's what you did back then, in the early 1960s. My brother, a mere 2 years older than me, was probably a handful, a youngster full of "why" questions -- why is the sky blue, why this, why that.

Mom's breakdown consisted of an ongoing paranoia/panic that she would lose control and slam my brother's head and mine against the wall to kill us both. Like the good wife and mother she was, she went to a shrink for help, but he was completely useless. In classic form, he told her that if she weren't so selfish and thought about her family instead of herself, she would be fine. In disgust, he turned her away, without real help and certainly no medication.

Mom did her best to pull herself together, which was only marginally effective. My paternal grandmother came during the day to "help" my mom out around the house, while dad was at work -- which really meant, grandma was there to make sure mom didn't act out her fantasies and kill us. It was a charming time, all the way around.

[BTW, I know a lot of this because my mother filled me in on the story when I was in my 20s.]

At the age of 2, however, I am sure I didn't understand what the hell was happening. My mother withdrew emotionally, and I recall vividly her vacant stare. In later years, I remember trying to engage my mom in conversations over lunchtime (I was maybe 5 or 6) and the panic I felt at her monosyllabic responses. I would do anything to have her connect with me. I learned how to perform little vignettes for her amusement. I made up games to rope her into my world. When I was supposed to be napping every afternoon, I rarely did, instead listening from my crib for signs of life in the house.

So at the age of 2, my therapist tells me, I would have likely gone into survival mode, since at that age connection with the mother is paramount. Except for me, it was there and then wasn't there. My mother disappeared, and even now -- 47 years later -- she's not entirely "there" all the time.

As an adult, I have somewhat made peace with the fact my mother has been emotionally unavailable nearly my entire life. However, I have also learned that, deep within me, are ingrained thoughts and responses of a pre-verbal variety that I am STILL trying to untangle.

One of the "helpful" things I learned at the age of 2 was that, without effort on my part, loved ones leave and never come back. Even WITH effort, the return of connection is never assured. Saying goodbye to a friend even now sometimes engenders fear or panic, especially if it is uncertain when the next reunion will take place. And in potential love relationships -- well, fogeddaboddit!

My 2-year-old way of trying to maintain connection is something I am just now working through. I see it in action sometimes, but often I cannot seem to stop it. Recently, it's completely in my face. Here are some things I do to maintain connection in the face of the 2-year-old's terror:

1. Manufacture attachment. Make myself indispensable in some way to the person I don't want to leave me. Create a need for my services in others. Examples include being the best prop designer for the high school musical; being able to create a papier mache rock at the last minute; helping build a bridge over a backyard creek (as I have all the right tools); designing a recording studio with no prior knowledge but figuring it out anyway (pre-internet, mind you).

2. Be in-demand as entertainment. Make myself the go-to person for fun. This was more common when I was younger, but I can still wing it if I have to. Examples include: dressing up in costumes to put on a show for my mom; making up new words to old songs to lobby for some dessert; being the life of the party by telling stories of my life that are only SLIGHTLY exaggerated.

3. Offer compliments, adoration and statements of affection to others in the hopes of getting the same in return. If that doesn't work, then demand compliments, adoration, and statements of affection from others. This one is really biting my ass these days. I am seeing this at work in awful, painful ways, something I didn't entirely see I was doing until recently (as in, this week). I am trying to pay attention to what energy I am putting out there to discern what I am trying to collect in response, and jesus christ on a crutch, it hurts.

To add insult to injury, my inner critic has been telling me what a loser I am for going through this at nearly 50 years of age. I feel sometimes like I should have figured this shit out a LONG fucking time ago. I feel humiliated at only now being aware of some very old, ingrained habits. And it is showing up where I least want it to.

My inner critic does really need to leave for a permanent vacation. Lacking compassion for the 2-year-old self, I know intellectually, is not going to help matters at all. I said months ago I wanted to live my life differently, and this is what I got. Dammit.

My process of human revolution -- inner transformation -- is painful, but I want to change. I want to show up as a fully actualized, happy person. I don't think I can get there if I am being operated by a 2-year-old's fears. I am determined to let go of these old habits, even if it takes me the rest of my life. I don't think it will, but I really haven't a clue. It takes faith.