"It's so important to deny Daddy is bad and what he did was bad," G said. "Denial is very strong there.
"There is a dynamic conflict present that may have some validity: "Sexual arousal is pleasurable--I don't want it to be pleasurable. I don't want to like it." I like it--I must not like it. There is no resolution to that conflict but to split. Part of the self retained some aspect of purity. Other parts felt dirty and shamed.
"What is God's truth? In real time, Daddy molested others. You weren't the only one. That truth makes it hard to keep denial in place. The little girl needed to process this: I have a safe, loving daddy, I'm a special, beloved daughter--it's hard for her to accept the fact that he's a scoundrel."
"Scoundrel. Yes, he was a scoundrel. That's the word! But if I believe that, I have to give up what he told me about who I am, my identity. When we were in bed, I was special. I pleased him. When we were downstairs in the living room with the rest of the family he often made it clear by frowns, gestures and grunts I didn't please him. If I give up the good identity I am left with being in the way, annoying, a nuisance, an irritation."
"You had his exclusive attention in private but he dismissed you as an annoying interruption in public. He commmunicated to you, I want to be with you. We have a special relationship. We pleasure each other. No one else can please me like you can--whether he believed it or did it deliberately to deceive you."
"He was an anthropologist who studied human behavior. He was in a position to deliberately manipulate a person to achieve a desired result."
"We don't want her to lose her significance as a beloved daughter."
"I shouldn't exist. That's got to be a pretty basic conflict. I need to stop existing and it's too late. I was able to make myself invisible. I'd sneak back upstairs and hide in the closet among the shoes. They'd let me go. They didn't even notice I'd left. They wouldn't seek me. No one would come say, 'We missed you. Are you all right?'"
As I spoke, I saw the same little girl coming down the runway, all grown up. She was still wearing a white dress. This one had a train. She was crowned with roses. With the vision came a knowing: You are still a princess, still loved, whether your father tells you so or not. You are special anyway.
If I understand my notes correctly, the older self beckoned the younger shy self down to join her (as a separate self, I was watching this) and when she did, the older one took her hand. (The thumb of her other hand was in her mouth.)
Then Jesus was there and he was giving the little girl a Teddy bear. He was telling her (I could not hear Him but I knew), "Keep this forever to show I'm a good Daddy." She took her thumb out of her mouth to take the bear. "I'm a Giver, not a taker," He was saying. "I have no expectations." He kept on talking to her and then she talked to Him. I couldn't hear them.
Jesus picked her up. She smiled and snuggled into his shoulder--and as she did, another self burst out, agitated: "Don't trust Him! Don't trust Him!"
The little girl, blissful, paid no attention. Jesus was inviting her to integrate--with her other selves? With Himself?
The new self was distraught. "Don't do it! It's not safe! He's not safe!" And then, "Don't leave me! If you integrate, Jesus will take over my job protecting you--and I don't trust Him!"
The little girl had a protector. That was news to me. Even bigger news: the protector didn't feel safe!
I watched Jesus with the protector, taking her fear away. The protector watched the little one go right into harm's way--into bed with the perpetrator! The little one wasn't scared. She felt fine. She felt pleasure. The protector knew the situation was bad and harmful, a furnace, a lion's den. But the little girl didn't know, didn't have to know it was dangerous!
That was how Jesus had protected her. That's how she was able to come out unscathed.
The protector threw herself on Jesus in relief. He will protect us if it happens again. We're in a scary place NOW--with our church--and He won't let us be hurt. The situation may be fearful but we do not need to be afraid. He was making a distinction. Though we go through the valley of the shadow of death, we will fear no evil, because You are with us.
G was telling me, "Let's thank the protector for a noble and difficult job." But I was the protector and I was realizing Jesus and I, both of us, had something in common, had the same goal.
He had been protecting both of the selves--little girl unafraid-though-in-harm's-way-self and self afraid for her and desperate to save her.
Because of Jesus, the little one did not process fear. Part of us (me?) held fear away from her, felt it for her. Jesus protected all of us by allowing dissociation. It--dissociation--was the protective system He provided to keep us sane, to keep us whole.
January 26, 2012 (Part 2)
