What Happens When You Can’t Self Soothe?

Yesterday I had some really big feelings and I self-soothed.

Today I had some really big feelings and I asked a partner for help.

And the funny thing is, both were growth.

My pixie person posted this yesterday.

Same baby, saaaaaaaaame.

I have modes. We all do.

I also recently spent 72 hours in a glass case of emotion.

I got feeling shitty and I couldn’t shake it.

It’s cyclical for me. I am not one thing all of the time. There are times where I wish I was. But if I got stuck in child mode, that would be messy for everyone around me.

I have this block, when I am feeling shitty, lost, confused. I feel like I have to figure out why before I can approach anyone else with it.

Somehow, I have decided I am not allowed to just need what I need for no discernible reason.

Try telling my inner child this.

Problem is, I do tell her that, so then we sit in tears with horrible thought loops in our heads and we make mountains out of molehills. Because, in addition to not having her emotions under control, my inner child has a very vivid imagination. Which is amazing at certain times and places. But not when it comes time to try and figure out what is actually wrong. The pile of blankets at the end of the bed becomes a monster and the fear drowns everything out.

There is no logic in this place.

4-year old’s don’t trouble shoot, if you asked a little kid what a logic tree was I am sure they would draw some sinister, twisted thing with rulers and books and calculators where the leaves of a tree should be. Children can’t even register their own physical pain levels and look to the reactions of the adults around to ascertain how bad it is when they fall.

Sometimes I am the same. I can’t register my own pain levels. And my default is set to the end of the world. So, I spiral until I can stop. Which makes me spiral harder.

I have a few close girlfriends I can reach out to, but my main stumbling block is, sometimes I don’t actually know what is wrong. And honestly, it could be nothing. I could have slept badly, it could be the 3^rd day of rain or the 60^th day of quarantine. Sometimes its isn’t one thing but a trickling of many and untangling that isn’t always easy. And of course, it is exacerbated by the fact that I think I need to know what is wrong and a list of possible solutions before I can approach anyone about it.

But, when I am in it. I cannot figure it out. Not fast enough to satisfy me anyways.

It does not help that I have been in relationships and friendships wherein I was not legally allowed to cry. Like at all. Immediate shaming and shunning. I am realizing now, just now, that this was a big bag of not okay.

I get it. Tears are vexing and I have been known to ugly cry.

I have never been able to stomach crying babies in public places, or children repeating mom mom mom mom mom over and over again. It vexes me beyond reason and measure. I become very agitated and it is hard for me to calm down about it or even hear anything else but the child.
Not because I am annoyed with them, I am annoyed by the parents. I want to pick the child up and figure out what is wrong, and really that is not a socially acceptable thing for me to do.
I have been approached by sad toddlers in public, when they just needed an adult.  I play peekaboo across airport gates with little kids. I have sat on the floor of the cereal aisle with a kid who was having a breakdown and his mother juggled 2 other kids and looked at me with tears of gratitude in her eyes. They all had one thing in common. They just needed attention.

Until my actual child was verbal and able to articulate what was bothering him, it was my singular purpose on this earth to figure out what was wrong if he was crying and fix it. And even after. He was an incredibly well-behaved child, but even the best kids have meltdowns sometimes. Hungry, tired, the tag in their shirt itches, or they just need to be acknowledged…it doesn’t matter. And when it came time, we talked about self soothing and sitting in your feelings.

I was able to teach him something I cannot do.

That’s the kicker. I can anticipate everyone else’s needs. I offer help and love unconditionally to the people around me. But I cannot do it for myself.

I am the safe place where other people come to figure shit out. I am the hug for no reason. I am the tissues in my purse in case you need to cry.

Sometimes I need a hug for no reason. And I have no idea how to ask.

I know where this comes from and it doesn’t bear repeating. I exhumed and examined it on my own.

The exact same place my equal and opposite reaction to being needed by others comes from.

I can hold space for the ones I love like Atlas holds the world on his back.

By the grace of god or some other miracle, I have found myself surrounded by friends who don’t hold me to a standard of needing to be fine all the time.