How Motherhood Healed The Emotional Scars Of Being Spanked

As an 8 year old child, I decided that I would never let anyone see my real feelings again.

I was being spanked once more for some digression or other and somehow sensed that this violent act symbolised more than just a punishment - it was a power play.

And so I resolved that my strategic act of defiance from that moment onwards would be to control what I could: my reaction.

I knew that I may have been smaller and weaker physically than my parents (which meant that my body would have to endure whatever pain was coming its way) but I also knew that I didn’t need to show the effects of that pain.

THIS would always be mine.

And therefore - in my head - this made me the ultimate winner.

It was a coping mechanism that served me well through adolescence into young adulthood: my inner world remained hidden, untouchable and safe from any unwanted probing (to the extent where I was told I should see a psychiatrist because I never cried).

But when I became a mother, it soon became obvious that my emotional armour was also preventing me from letting anyone else iN.

My coping mechanism was in fact a double-edged sword - and I knew that I would have to change something in order to be the mama that I wanted to be.

It’s been a long journey to get to where I am now - and part of my inner child still doesn’t appreciate that not all unsolicited touch is unsafe.

But it was only through recognising that she often feels unprotected, alone and terrified of showing her feelings because of the way in which she was ‘disciplined’, that I was able to direct some self-compassion her way.

Because, ironically, inner peace comes from diving into your inner turmoil - you can’t sidestep the suffering from your past, you have to meet it head on.

And this suffering needs to be acknowledged and integrated through validating the pain that you endured. And understanding that what happened was wrong and was never your fault.

By creating that unconditionally loving parent who could co-regulate my unexpressed anger, terror, confusion and betrayal in the way that my real-life parents couldn’t, I’ve slowly been letting go of my fear of letting others in, of being vulnerable, of trusting men, of receiving safe touch, of allowing my inner child to be a child.

And I’m starting to feel like the mama that I always wanted to be.

Not because I’m necessarily reaching the expectations that I set myself. But because today, I’m able to be compassionate enough with myself to know that it’s enough merely to be trying.

And now I’m off to for a massage by my son : )