Memoir: Perfect Peter: Prologue- Installment 12; Self Help, and How It Didn’t Help My Self
For years I tried self help. It worked great, for a week…
One reason I’m sharing my memoir is because I have realized as a health coach, often, when we are struggling, like when trying to be healthier, our childhood may be holding us back. Until we address our past, our present and future may be affected.
Another reason is, when I shared it with friends, many said, “I feel the same. Can we talk?” (The answer is yes. Please contact me if compelled to. I welcome it.)
And, the most important reason; Right now, somewhere, an adult is harming a child. They may not know they’re doing it.
If what you read affects you, please reach out to me via email or phone, or leave a comment. My hope is to connect authentically with you, so we can support each other.
Caution, Dear Reader - Some of the content is graphic, and I have been told, disturbing at times. My goal is not to upset, but to share honestly. Only reflection and honesty have helped me glimpse what has eluded me for 50 years-happiness. Please read at your discretion.
*Most names have been changed.
Click here to read my memoir from the beginning.
Click here to read installment 11.
Excerpt:
For years I’d read spiritual authors like Eckhart Tolle and try to do what they recommended. Tolle advised, You can explore your past, but it’s not essential for enlightenment. Because of my childhood, I was skeptical. Still, I’d try to follow his teachings because I was desperate. Then, when I couldn’t achieve bliss, I judged myself hopeless, thinking, What’s wrong with me!
Installment 12
The result of this work is a candid narrative of what I experienced growing up in America to Greek immigrant parents, and all that came with it, including; alcoholism, abuse, divorce, suicide, the resulting perfectionism, and love & forgiveness. The journey took me to the beginning, starting with the naming of my parents’ second born male son. Through misguided intentions, they would give their child a name, but not an identity.
I’d learn for the first time the concepts of shame and abandonment, how they would grow inside me like a cancer, nearly driving me to insanity. My 12-step program states, “Parents abandon their children when they fail to praise or recognize a child’s true effort to please the parent.” I was oblivious to this fact of my childhood. Then, I read, when we reach the age our parents had their breakdown, and our children are at the age when we suffered our worst traumas, it can feel like we’re going to go insane. I related to that, and have observed some of my patients, clients, and friends struggling in this same way.
Still, sometimes, the work seemed pointless, making me think, again, Why does everyone seem to be having a better life than me? Deciding to quit for the hundredth time, an indefatigable voice kept whispering for me to continue, even after a literary agent sent a two sentence rejection that made me question the value of my entire life. At those times, hopeless of ever feeling better, having lost focus of my purpose, I’d confess my frustration to Frank, my therapist. He’d suggest other therapies, like EMDR. Skeptical, but desperate, I’d play along. Then, during one of those sessions, when I didn’t expect it, I’d come face to face with love and reconciliation, making me feel more in my chest than I can ever recall, releasing tears of remembrance. Because, in Frank’s office, while I sat slouched in a leather recliner chair, I’d meet a young boy. He was sitting on a curb in his Little League baseball uniform, alone and scared, waiting for me, sitting where his father had left him 39 years before.
I couldn’t quit, even when I tried, because I knew I couldn’t walk away from that little boy again. I realized he’d stay stuck on that curb until I sat next to him, and listened. Writing about it has been therapeutic. That surprised me because I thought that was a cliché. I felt compelled to write, and eventually, this story came out. Sharing my writing with Frank was essential to my healing. I’d write, we’d discuss it, and with his guidance, I’d heal. His knowledge of dysfunctional families helped me understand what really happened, and how it held me hostage. My recovery would have been impossible without this insight. For years I concluded my problems were due to my inherent flaws, driving me deeper into my dysfunction, taking me to the edge of my sanity. I can only speculate my father had once been here too. His solution was fire. I had to do better for my children.
When I saw the movie “A Beautiful Mind”, about John Nash, a Princeton Mathematician with schizophrenia, one scene helped me wake from the delusion I could heal on my own through memes, self help books, and seminars. Nash tries to convince his therapist he doesn’t need help, that he could solve his problems with his mind because he was a genius. In response, his therapist asks, “How can you solve your problems with your mind, when your mind is your problem?”
For years I read spiritual authors like Eckhart Tolle and try to do what they recommended. Tolle advised, You can explore your past, but it’s not essential for enlightenment. Because of my childhood, I was skeptical. Still, I’d try to follow his teachings because I was desperate. Then, when I couldn’t achieve bliss, I judged myself hopeless. I went to Tony Robbins seminars, sometimes for a week at a time, listened to podcasts, read books recommended by friends, watched Ted Talks, and saw several therapists over the years. Everything I tried worked temporarily. But soon I’d return to my default dysfunctional thinking. For example, when I tried to be present like Tolle recommended, or manifest my destiny like Robbins advised, I would use my willpower to do it, something I had a lot of. For a short while it seemed to help, then I’d revert back, thinking; What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I stick with anything? Later, working my 12-step program, I’d read, “Willpower is no match for dysfunction.” Robbins talked about smashing through limiting beliefs, but I had to go further back and find out, Where did those beliefs come from? Only then could I re-parent them out of me.
I respect people like Tolle and Robbins, and believe they are genuine in sharing what worked for them. But for me, before I could live in the present, and have hope for the future, I had to go back to the past, understand where my self doubt and hate came from, connect with my true self (that little boy on the curb), and re-frame my entire childhood. That would help me build a new foundation, the foundation my parents were supposed to help me build but were suffering too much themselves to help me do. Until then, I couldn't sit quietly in a room, stare out the window, and reach nirvana.
I shared my thoughts regarding self help books with a 12-step friend who shared it with her brother. He wrote back, “What gurus teach are temporary fixes. For it to be permanent, you have to believe you are worthy, and that’s the tricky part. We seek other’s teachings for empowerment, but empowerment comes from within.” That was a revelation for me. The “self help stuff” didn’t stick because deep down, I didn’t believe I was worthy. Psychologists say, “Our self worth comes from our parents and caregivers.” Right there was my problem.
Frank shared, “Although some self help books can be helpful, they are written for the masses. In general, they must be viewed with a realistic discernment. There is no ‘one size fits all’, and as informed consumers, self help benefits from some custom tailoring.” He added, “If there isn’t someone sitting in the room to assist you, you can come to wrong or hurtful conclusions about yourself.” I did.
Mark, a patient, Bishop, and friend, read my memoir installments, and reminded me, “Peter, do whatever you want, but make sure to share what drove you during those tough times, because it seems you always had something in you pushing you forward.” I think he was talking about faith and purpose, and how during our darkest times, we humans have the ability to come through them.
I told Mark, as a result of sharing this writing, I have received a genuine outpouring of support and concern for my well-being. “Peter, you’re a great guy.” “Don’t give up.” “Your past doesn’t define you.” they’d write. It has humbled me, and validated the work. Mark added, “Because your readers care about you, make sure to let them know you’re okay, and share with them how you made it through.” I assured him the second part of my memoir would do that. First, I had to go back, before I could go forward.
Then, Mark helped me make a beautiful human connection, the emotion filling my eyes. He said, “When they reach out to you with their love and support, though they care about you, they’re not just trying to encourage and support you. They’re also talking about themselves, wanting to believe that they too will be okay.” That made the skin on my arms and the back of my neck tingle, demonstrating how we can connect to each other, even virtually. Another confirmation I made the right decision to share my writing before it was published, against experts advice.
I know Mark was also talking about God, and how he had been with me through the best, and worst of my life, never abandoning me. My 12 step program encourages a re-connection with our true higher power, how they refer to God. Initially, I thought that was a deal breaker for me. My parents God was a vengeful, judgemental being that I had shut out years before. Now, although it seemed bizarre at first, when I receive genuine communications from friends and strangers, it’s comforting to think, maybe a higher power is working through them to connect us.
To those who shared their love, concern and support, I assure you, though I am not perfect, I am well. To write honestly, I had to take myself back there; the van, the basement, the hospital room. It was absolutely essential to my healing that I authentically feel the emotions I was not allowed to, or able to feel when the traumas occurred. Because my father was dead, writing as though he was still in the room, and I was still that vulnerable, endangered child, was the best way I had to accomplish that. I’ll admit, often, walking away from my laptop in tears after a writing session, the danger followed me around the corner and into my car. A friend reminded me, “Make sure to leave it behind. You don’t have to carry it with you.” It took some work, but I have been able to come back to the present, to my children, to my life.
My recovery took two years and counting of working the 12-steps, attending weekly meetings, weekly therapy sessions, daily readings, daily communications with 12-step friends, and writing. I had previously spent over $25,000 and 15 years doing what “gurus” recommended. But for me, a free, anonymous, 12-step program, a good therapist, authentic relationships, and time, guided by a higher power, were what I needed.
More to come…