One of the biggest differences between us humans and other mammals – including the chimps that seem so much like us – is our amazing memory, linked with the capacity for learning new stuff. We’re born with more or less a blank slate when it comes to knowledge, though that doesn’t seem to be true about some core aspects of our character and capabilities.
One of the side effects of our huge memory banks is that consciously or unconsciously we remember most of what’s happened to us – including what it was like to be a helpless kid who was completely dependant on a woman for our survival. Sure there was a male in the background hopefully protecting us all from wild animals or marauding invaders, but food and comfort almost always came from mother. And all of us were pushed away by her at some point when she decided that it was time for us to have a change in diet (and for her to have a break from being a feeding machine!)
The memories of being nurtured and comforted, if that was on offer, or neglected and ignored if it wasn’t, along with the pain of that inevitable rejection, all the times when we did something wrong then got scared if we were shouted at; and thousands of other incidences and events, are all laid down in our minds somewhere, even if we can’t always choose to recall them.
Those buried memories can cause us all kinds of problems if they are stirred up in a relationship, and all combine to create what feels in effect like an inner child version of ourselves, who is hidden most of the time, but can be triggered by a situation that reminds us of a painful experience from our past, and tries to get our attention by taking control of our feelings so we start to act like a typical selfish and sulky four-year old.
I’ve been getting to know my inner toddler a little too well for my, or my wife’s, liking in recent months. Maybe living with a woman full-time – something I’ve not really done before – is evoking some buried childhood memories; dredging up the fears of being unloved I had when I was a boy, and which I can have a tendency to project on to my wife so I start to feel unnecessarily insecure in our relationship, and she starts to feel unloved by me.
Alcohol can give Little Steve extra determination to run the show, and his tendency to be jealous, touchy, and insecure, which does not make him great company, gets worse. So I try to avoid drinking if I sense he’s in my psychological vicinity. But after years of feeling ashamed of him and trying to kill him off – all of which only ever made him more upset and angry – I’m slowly learning to develop a better relationship with that ‘boy’ in me. I’m more patient and kind when he makes a fuss – usually about not having his own way, getting enough attention, or having something he thinks he wants – and I’ve found that if I accept that he’s a part of me and these feelings are natural and nothing to be ashamed of, I can comfort him when he is feeling threatened, and ask him what he needs rather than expecting anyone else – especially my wife – to take on that job. Because in fact, I’m the only one who can do that!
Like all children, sometimes he needs ‘tough love’ and has to be firmly but kindly reminded that there are boundaries to what is acceptable behaviour, and he simply can’t have everything he thinks he wants. But I also remember to be grateful to that lad, because he’s the one who knows how to have fun doing simple things, how to tell stories and write songs, and I even maybe also how to fall in love.
When I start to feel the kind of anger or upset that I know is probably ‘childish’ at some level, instead of feeling ashamed or pretending it’s not happening – which just makes him clamour even more for attention – I say a quiet ‘Hi’ to my little guy, ask him what he needs, and reassure him that I love him and I’m here to look after him. And if he can’t have what he wants, I’ll console him with some kind of treat; maybe just some relaxing time together, or even reward us both with a nice healthy snack (possibly accompanied by a beer!).
Then we can move forward, without him angrily expecting someone else to be the loving mother that I suspect he never had, or anxiously worrying that he will be abandoned – which are ironically exactly the kind of fears and insecurities that make the trusting and close relationship we both want, impossible. I make sure he knows that I’m always here for him no matter what, so he can relax and the two of us can walk down life’s road, and love’s road, together as better friends to each other, and to anyone else we share our time with.
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