I think it started with the (stuffed animal) dog hanging from a single wire. No, it was before that when my endurance and sanity were sapped by my period, nine days of torrential floodng culminating in utter parchedness and a feelingof complete imbalance. Follow with atimely chaser of stomach flu and theeeeeeeennn- action! The single wire!
Suspended from the Japanese maple in the front yard, on a length of rough twine, Sophia's dear companion (stuffed!) puppy Myrtle perfoms feats of grace and daring on a single wire. A la Circus Smirkus she dangles at just the right height for Sophia to grab her and swing her round and round the yard like a tetherball. As with everything this must be executed in a very particular fashion. Stand in front of the lilacs and send Myrtle sweeping at top speed toward the porch. And for awhile this continued happily until the afternoon I came back from work to find Sophia had sustained injury from the heavy porcelian teapot she had apparently fit as a helmet to Myrtle's head. As Myrtle has returned to the stage from the audience after a celestial spiral of wonder, Sophia got cracked full on in the face with the teapot.
That was the day of three different head injuries. That was the very day that she began to respond to accidents by insisting they did not happen. If she takes a spill and I ask how she is she refuses to admit to the fall saying she is unhurt and nothing happened. About a month later this pattern is still going on. A witchy mama I have tried every approach to correcting this scary line of thinking and have had no success. Evidently, when my husband reponded to her teapot accident she must have heard anger in his voice (instead of the fear and concern) and said she was “Great” and she “did not get hit with a teapot.” Every mishap since (and there have been an unusually high number of them- refer to spider bite post) has been met with this same behavior. This scares the hell out of me. We are trying to reinforce that when she is hurt she must reach out and listen to her body's message. We have taken every damn line I can think of and no change. And so it am reminded of the intricasies of perception.
I received messages as a child that I was the go-to-girl. I had to hold everyone up with my preternaturraly high level of competence in the adult sphere. In the fifth grade I was pulled out of my classroom several times aweek to cover for the school secretary. Literally, I was removed from lessons to run the office in her absence. This meant dealing with phone calls, using the intercom to contact teachers and dismiss children when parents arrived. I had to do the bells for some lunches. I was eleven years old. This was the year that my teacher put me in charge of creating a dance curriculum to present to my classroom once a week for a month in lieu of gym class. I could go on...
Clearly I was socialized as the little mother and problem solver and everyone.s big sister. I am still trying to sort this out on a daily basis. It is one thing to reflect on your experince as a child and try to trace the roots of behaviors and beliefs. It is quite another to watch it LIVE if you will as THE mother.
In this case I see that an erroneous perception has caused Sophia to react in a not so good way when injured/sick. We are staying on top of it and trying to gently bring her around to admiting she did tumble or does need help. It is so unspeakably strange to be on this side of it all. To be on this fluid, tenuous, dynamic side of the creation of a self. To watch all of this. To be a part of a future puzzle.