Barefoot is better. Know what happens when you go barefoot the majority of the time? The soles of your feet get pretty damn tough. Having grown up poor I had only one pair of shoes (cheap) at a time and wasn't really allowed to wear them outside if I were just playing in the yard, etc. They had to last until my mom decided we could afford more. I think I had the toughest feet of anyone I've ever known because of this. The only thing that really hurt me was if I stepped on glass (which I did a few times, once landing me in the ER to have the glass removed), and when that California asphalt and concrete got hot enough to fry an egg on. Even so, over time walking barefoot didn't bother me one single bit.
But what about the INSIDE? Oh, but that was a whole different story altogether. I couldn't walk my way through through the pain to being 'thick-skinned' and pretty much felt the weight of anything and everything that was said to me. Criticism became truth, a 'reality' handed to me that I willingly took. My childhood experiences weren't filled with encouragement or praise nor even helpful criticism. Indifference and criticism, and many times complete withdrawal of love and affection were the tools used to shape the person I would become.
I was to become the child who survived.
In adulthood, that small child I once was is alive, and though not well, that part of me is AWARE. There is still a disconnection of who 'that little girl' was and who I am now, and I still see photos of when I was little and feel such pity for 'that little girl.' Yes, I know it's me, of course. But the disconnection is still there just the same. I want SO much to apologize to her and say "I'm sorry I didn't protect you!"
I've accepted this disconnection as a part of who I am, but I don't like it one single bit. C'est la vie.
I remain thin-skinned, but my reaction to criticism, disrespect, and so forth is very different now. I've allowed history to repeat itself in relationships I've had, and the reality of this has unprecedented tenure, so it would seem. It will be with me the rest of my life. Okay. I'll just have to work around that when possible, right?
So here I am all grown up and stuff. I can make decisions, change my mind, and walk away from anyone or anything that threatens my happiness; such are the benefits of being an adult. Right? Well, not exactly. At least not for me. That subconscious, that inner child, the child I actually WAS at one time so long ago, well.. she has a mind of her own and remembers the pain, the isolation, the indifference, the coldness, the invisibility of being... well, me.
Such memories carry over for the long-haul and map the course of life in often undesirable ways. But it doesn't always have to be like that. I can do more to help myself in that respect. And I do.
On bad days, of which I have far too many these days, that inner child is the one who suffers most. Sure, I feel the physical pain, and I feel the isolation of my situation and all it invokes (depression, anxiety, etc). But it's what happens INSIDE that changes my world, my life. All I can do is anesthetize myself with too much coffee, reading, and way too much television. My physical body simply refuses to allow much more these days. That's okay, because eventually the AIH and the 'possible' Myositis, both autoimmune, is driving the bus now, and not even my inner child can rebel against that and affect change.
Sitting here in the quiet, drinking coffee, talking about things I've not talked with a single other human being about...well, but for one therapist for a very short time, I can definitely say I recognize my life as it was, and as it still is; The invisibility of being... me.
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