When witnessing a normal experience triggers big unresolved feelings.
The thing about childhood trauma is that out of nowhere, something can trigger memories and sorrow.
I’m at my son’s soccer game. I am healing my inner child simply by showing up for him, because my parents didn’t show up for me.
That is not what triggered me, though. In fact, that has offered me peace knowing that my son will never experience looking around and not finding anyone there supporting him.
I hear the creaking of a rocking chair. It’s one of the camping rocking chairs. Under an umbrella that blocks the harsh afternoon sun, a woman is rocking her toddler.
Embraced in her left arm is a tired little boy, with a handful of Twizzlers, munching on them slowly. In her right hand is a paper fan she is using to fan him.
A lady with them laughs, saying he is going to fall asleep eating his candy.
In this moment, I am observing this little boy being rocked, hugged and fanned while he is enjoying his sweet treat under the shade of the umbrella.
I watched with adoration, but also with a pit deep in my stomach and a dull ache in my heart.
Oh, to be that little boy. Being comforted, cared for and loved by Mom.
My heart hurts for my inner child, because she never experienced that.
I feel a sorrow that can never be healed. I deserved to be loved. It is not fair that I never knew a parent’s love and comfort.
I hate that.
But at least my son will never know that pain.
Well, at least not because of me.
…
Update: 10 minutes later
Now the toddler is running around in the grass, still holding a couple of Twizzlers.
His older brother, probably 5 or 6 years old, is whacking him in the head with the paper fan.
He just stepped back to adjust his grip and is now beating the shit out of the toddler with the paper fan.
I guess I am not the only one jealous of the love and nurturing he was getting from his mom.
I look to Mom to see if she is seeing this. She’s not paying attention.
Well. Okay, then.
💜,
Violet