Of Doors, Drapes, and Fiery Rabbit Holes

Hello Dear One,

Since we've recently experienced the blizzard "Nemo," which here in ski country actually amounted to a foot or two less than down south, I've had time to write.

In therapy this week I've been working through some memories, one in particular, utilizing a therapy known as EMDR or Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing.  It is most frequently used in cases of trauma and/or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  It is used widely by U.S. Veteran's Affairs and throughout much of the Western world.  The process is a complex 8 step therapeutic treatment, using memory recall, creation of a safe internal space, eye movements that follow a clinician's hand, and 5 other pieces that work to ease the distress that someone experiences from a memory or from a triggering event that elicits the same mental and physical response as the memory itself.  It eventually works to rewire the brain so that when a potential trigger is experienced a person can stop from feeling as though they are reliving that particular trauma.  The process is in fact far more involved than I could possibly explain here, however many excellent websites detail the specifics of EMDR and how to find properly trained individuals.

The nitty gritty of the work is being able to look at and experience a traumatic event in your life that is consequently linked to other events in your life, creating what is known as a "memory chain" and begin to reprocess how you respond to the memory itself and other stimuli that cause similar responses.  These secondary responses can best be described as "Rabbit Holes," dark, twisting, confining mazes of memories that create a response that mimics how you felt during the initial trauma.  It is sort of like an evil version of smelling homemade cookies, or whatever comfort food it is for you, and remembering the warmth, and love you felt at that moment.  Instead of love and warmth, you feel panic, fear, anger, sadness, and a host of other emotions and physical reactions almost as if you were right there at that moment living it all over again.

So, this week, I was completing my 3rd session on a specific memory and memory chain.  And not surprisingly it had to do with one of my mother's crazy actions that took place in my early teens.  It centered around a glass door, the drape on the door, and my mother lighting that drape on fire.

For the sake of background, in a very simplified form, my father took a mistress when I was 14, she lived on the second floor of our house as a "tenant" for 6 years, and the 2 halves of the house were separated by that old wood and glass door with a homemade drape that hung on "our" side of the door.  Although the above sentence deserves far more time and explanation than I have allowed at this moment, fear not, those stories are yet to come.

At any rate, the memory I was most traumatized by in that particular moment was when my mother began to light this drape on fire in an attempt to...burn the house down, kill herself, kill my father and his mistress, kill me, I honestly have no idea.  And of course, neither did she, her raging beast of mental illness was driving her at full throttle and there was no turning back from the insanity that was burning through her.

I have in fact reprocessed this memory to no longer be triggering, however I want to paint a small picture from my vantage point at that time.  I was standing behind her, having heard the commotion by the door, which incidentally was adjacent to my bedroom door, and I watched as she knelt down and touched the flame to the blue fabric.  It was a terrifying and truly traumatizing experience.  To be standing, feeling helpless, feeling out of control, feeling angry, scared, unsafe, and unloved, watching the person who was supposed to protect you from harm attempting to set your entire world on fire.  This was a pivotal moment in my life, and my actions in that instant have defined who I am in more ways than I could have ever imagined.

You see, in the horror of that moment I reacted first by confronting her, and then by putting the fire out.

And sadly, without my understanding it, that was exactly what her beast had wanted.

Her beast wanted, craved, begged for, and needed attention.  It needed to be seen.  It needed to be heard.  It needed to cry out in agony, much as it did each night during her nightmares and night terrors.  It needed fuel for its own fire.  It needed to feel validated for its loneliness, its panic, its horror.  Her beast was so driven to be acknowledged that it was willing and able to jeopardize it's own existence in order to feel that validation.  It was willing to burn itself in its own funereal pyre to demonstrate its power.

And I did just what it wanted.  I stopped it from causing harm to itself.  I stopped its madness from making a burnt offering of all of us.  But what I really did was to give it all the attention it could suck out of me at that moment.  And I continued to give it more attention for the next 20+ years.

At the time I did not realize that this was what I was doing.  And initially what I was doing was self-preservation.  I had to put that physical fire out in order to save myself, my mother, my father, my "step" brother, my home, my possessions, and my then current reality.

But, the later reality, the one I would perpetuate for more than 2 decades, was that I was feeding the beast with the fuel of attention that it so desperately needed to survive.  I was giving it my strength, my power, my ability to stand on my own two feet and pursue my own dreams, in order to keep it satisfied.  To keep it from killing itself, and consequently my mother with it, and potentially killing me, I gave it all that it desired and then some.  To feed the beast I allowed it to steal my light and leave behind  a pervasive and suffocating darkness.

And it was this darkness that ultimately drove my own beast's cravings and fears.  It was this darkness, combined with the darkness of my own mental illness that led to my Deconstruction.  It was the formation of a fiery rabbit hole that I have traveled down, over and over again, much like Alice in her fall into Wonderland.  And the terrors were just as vivid in mine as they were in her's, both Alice's and my mother's.

The burning drape came to be a metaphor for the brokenness and darkness of my relationship with my mother, as I would rush to put out yet another fire she had created, be it selling a house, having an affair, marrying a man she'd known for 5 days, or moving again, and again, and again.  I would confront her beast, give it the attention it sought, and then put out the fire to save her beast, to save her, to save my beast, and to save myself.  The fire of insanity burned brightly in that rabbit hole and I was scorched by the flames more times than I can count.  Living within an engulfing blaze of irrational, hurtful, harmful, and often dangerous behaviors created a heightened and anxiety driven reality for me.

Yet, this year, this new page in the book of my life, is one that is not charred by either beast's need to burn.  This year, which began for me in October 2012, has been the beginning of living outside the fire.  It is a time in which I am able to walk away from her beast, from its desperation, from its degradation, from its desire to consume everyone and everything in its path.  It is a time in which my own beast no longer pours gasoline on the fires within that rabbit hole, allowing me to dowse the flames of fear and terror with a love and compassion that neither beast ever knew.  It is a time when I no longer travel down the rabbit hole, either by trigger or by choice, because I have reasons to be above ground.

I have a beautiful, talented, and loving wife of nearly 15 years who has stayed by my side throughout all of the hells, and is finally able to begin to let down her guard.  She is a woman deserving of love, and it my privilege to support and love her throughout this life.

I have two handsome, gifted, and loved sons who need a strong, healthy, happy, and nurturing father in their lives each and every day.

I have a job where even on my worst days I feel respected, trusted, appreciated, and a part of a team.

I have friends and neighbors who have stayed with me, despite my own insanities, quirks, and foibles.

I have family, both blood and chosen, who love me, who love my wife, who love my children, and who time and again join and rejoin with us on this journey.

I have a faith community that continues to feed my spirit and surround my family with love and support through the darkest and the brightest parts of our lives.

I have a relationship with a loving and nurturing G-d, and I am truly blessed to be able to see and feel and know this, everyday.

And I have a place to share my thoughts, my dreams, my fears, my hopes, my insights, my longings, and myself.  And I thank you for sharing them with me each step of the way.

Be well, love your neighbor as you love yourself, and remember to actually love yourself.



-Ari