From the minute she enters the world, she has a mother who hates her and strangers trying to kill her. I'm actually still trying to make sense of the episode's prologue: Set in 1997, a random Circuit City employee gets a cryptic message on his Windows 95 PC ordering him to kill Jane, who is less than a day old, before she grows up into a major threat.
I haven't lost those apprehensions...I mean, I used to get into fights when I was a kid in the locker room. They'd kid me about that. I'd say, 'Don't call me that!' and I'd fight them. It was a sore spot as a child. And then adults stopped doing it. But it lurks, and for them [the Kellogg commercial creative crew] to find it was, in itself, a kind of discovery.
Jesus usually came home from school to a raucous scene: the family TV blaring, his mom loudly cooking dinner and his two young sisters fighting about nothing in particular. When his dad came home from work, they'd all gather around the kitchen table for dinner. But this day was different. Everything was eerie and quiet and dark, he recalled. All of the lights in the home were off. The television was silent.
Research on parentification - the process where children are forced into adult emotional roles - shows that many of the people we admire for their composure developed it as a survival mechanism. They weren't born calm. They were made calm, usually by environments where someone's emotional dysregulation demanded that a child become the steady one.
They are known, as it were, from the neck up. The cellular memory of facts and experiences, however, connects mind and body: My body recalls that showing my true feelings in childhood led to a put-down. A slammed door meant that Dad was home and drunk. The specific fact/event may be forgotten, but the bodily reaction remains: Any slamming noise may induce terror.
Every time Elizabeth Lamphere looked at her daughter, all she saw was her late fiancé. Ian had died in an avalanche while skiing in the Colorado backcountry when Madelyn was just a baby. The tragedy had plunged Lamphere into single parenthood, changing diapers, making meals, doing the bedtime routine all by herself, all while trying to bring in what money she could as a massage therapist.
In childhood, we lack the emotional and cognitive maturity to fully understand the harm that comes from those we depend on for safety and love. To cope with fear, helplessness, and confusion, many of us blamed ourselves. This self-blame can create a false sense of control in a chaotic environment and allows us to preserve an emotional bond with caregivers, even if those caregivers are also the source of harm.
I've had a script running through my subconscious mind that says, "I am unworthy." I've written in this space about self-esteem, but now I'd like to dig a little deeper and get more specific about how low self-esteem is formed, and what you can do about it. I love baseball; when I was a kid, I asked my parents to let me play Little League baseball several times.
On the surface, my own childhood certainly looked idyllic. My dad worked, and my mom stayed home. I did well in school. I was involved. If I expressed interest in an activity, my mom signed me up. She schlepped me around town, to games and competitions, to art classes and orchestra practices. I stood out academically; my report cards always read "a pleasure to have in class." I was a rule follower by nature, seemingly clinging to the order and structure that school offered me.
A couple of weeks ago, I found myself crying in the park. It was supposed to be just a typical summer day. I was enjoying my usual stroll with my dog, Boni. The sun was shining, and the shade of the trees provided a very welcoming shelter from the burning sun. Children were running and laughing, and their joy drew me in. Two of them, tiny three-year-olds, were squealing, all happy, wearing Hawaiian-style skirts and flowers around their necks.
