Arrested Development
restarting the growing up process
Today I read the last chapter in Jeffrey Smith’s wonderful book. The chapter was about arrested development. In it, he writes:
The reason I have focused on pathological narcissism is that relationships with individuals with those characteristics have had profound effects on so many of my patients [who are] spouses or children or even employees.
I am realizing that my mother probably falls into this category. I have stopped sharing my blogs with her, so I can write more freely about it. One of the predictors for dissociative disorder is an insecure attachment to the mother. Add sexual trauma on top of that, then the withdrawal of my father’s love, and what’s a kid to do? More and more I understand what happened. It feels normalizing to have a cause to attribute my nebulous lifelong struggles to. I’m not insane, not doomed, not lazy, just a product of my environment in certain key emotional and behavioral respects.
My intellect has been a good friend. It seems so strange to me that a person who did well in school, scored high on SATs, was given scholarships and prizes along the way, and got into the college of her choice, could turn into such a case of failure to thrive! But I did not have a sense of self. I had bad work habits. On the inside I was a wreck, and most of my energy went into trying to appear normal, just trying to find a way to keep going.
I wish I were 18 again, heading off to college this fall. I’m ready. I’d still need to be in therapy, but I think I could get through college now. I wish I could start over, have the life I would have liked to have. I wish I could have mothered my own children in a loving and consistent way instead of subjecting them to hurt and abandonment. I wish I could have enjoyed their childhoods more, instead of having to struggle for survival. I wish I could have found the love of my life and raised our children together. I wish I had found a career, work to enjoy, a way to participate in the world, a way to support myself, a way to be useful.
So strange to be 61, almost 62, and just waking up. I feel a bit like Rip van Winkle! Where’d my life go? It’s as if I’ve been sleepwalking my way through it.
It’s like some part of me is just checking in after a long, long sleep. So much of my thought was turned to trying to figure out what was wrong, trying to heal myself, through self-help books, through spirituality, through searching high and low for the key to a problem I couldn’t understand or define. WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME? That’s been my scholarly focus, absorbing most of my intellectual energy.
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Jeffrey Smith’s book is the perfect self-help tool for me right now. He balances out what my therapist provides. He provides structure, an overview of the whole picture, like a map. He shows me what the problems are, where I’m stuck, and tells me what I have to do about it, in an uncomplicated and clear way. Good thing, because the person who needs to understand all this is probably about seven years old. He calls it arrested development.
It’s not fun facing our flaws and immaturity, but all it takes is some bravery and determination.
His book is helping me to face the problem of arrested development and make it personal, accept that it’s all mine to deal with. Blaming my failure to thrive on my past won’t help me to change. His book is helping me to feel that there is still something I can do about it. He says it’s NEVER too late to restart the process of growing up. My therapist is warm and loving and supportive and essential, but until I found Jeffrey Smith’s blog, and book, I still felt lost in the forest. The combo of these two influences feels sort of like I finally have the parents I need. The motherly emotional support and the fatherly plan and guidance are in place, so I can pick up the pieces and move forward
The primary way to overcome developmental deficits, Dr. Smith says, is to “practice voluntary behavior change.” That idea scared me when I first began the book. I’ve always said I’m lucky I didn’t have either an alchohol problem or a weight problem, because I have no self-discipline, no ability to stick to a program. But lookie, lookie, I’ve now written 112 daily blogs. It has not been hard to do, but I have had to face some of my fears. Smith says the first barrier to restarting growth is shame. I’ve had to overcome a bunch of that to write these blogs, so I think it’s been a great first step.
Voluntary behavior change has to start with things you feel fairly confident you can pull off. If you take on too much, you’ll collapse, so you have to find manageable changes to make, and build your success brick by brick.
You know part of me really wants to get a job. I just think that would take a lot of stress off of poor old Ex, who worries because we have no financial plan or security. I don’t have to start with a big, important, hard job. Just half time, maybe. A way to get out of the house and reduce financial stress. It won’t be easy, but it doesn’t feel impossible. I still have my weekly therapy appointment to bolster me. I may be seven years old, but I’m smart and I’m a good worker. Let’s think of jobs a seven year old could do. She’ll have help from other parts, but we don’t want the job to feel too hard, or too dull, for her.
“I remember first grade and second grade with clarity. After that everything got muddy, like someone was going to school, but I was somewhere else, dreaming of fairy tale adventures…”
(This might be the child before Ruby got split off from Blue. Whoever this is who’s waking up has enthusiasm like Ruby’s. Ruby never got an education, just ran wild, and the child who went to school after seven was duller, no sparkle, but still smart, like Blue.)
Maybe a job isn’t the right next step, maybe too big of a leap? Not sure. I’ll have to check in with other parts, and bring it up with my therapist. But I feel excited to take a new step, challenge myself to grow up a bit more. The other day when Bob told Hopeless to hold the baby, and feel whatever feelings came to her, there were two things. First she felt a desire for more structure, a daily routine, the coziness of a well-maintained environment. Then she began to feel a profound sadness for the baby who had never felt seen.
So, more daily structure seems important, but also time to just feel. We’ll see where this leads.
