One day

[Guest guest]

Joe, thank you so much for your comments and kind compliments. Yes, honesty has always been a high value to me, even as a child. I think I was influenced by my 3rd grade teacher who lavishly praised me one day for admitting that I had already eaten an ice cream cone (and thus couldn't get another one) ... and I made up my eight-year-old mind, right then and there, that I would ALWAYS be honest.

As far as courage goes, I don't think I see it as a quality I possess. Not saying what you feel and think, when it is important to express yourself, is sort of a lie of omission, isn't it? So when I do speak out, it's more from a desire to be honest than from possessing courage, although you may need courage in order to be truly honest sometimes.

Thanks again. Your remarks really meant a lot to me.

Helena

Re: One day

Hi Helena,I did read your two messages and feel compelled to say that by writing these two messages you have shown what a sincere, honest and wonderful person you really are.I can easily understand how you accidentally posted the first message to the group (I have done similar myself)but to post the second message showed incredible courage and honesty (two of your values I'm assuming). You could have easily have just left it at the first message but you chose to correct your errors and in doing so further expose yourself to the group. By doing this you have shown what I would say would be some of your inner most true qualitys, honesty and sincerity.You may have doubts and fears about yourself at times (as we all do)but be assured the real you is truly a wonderful person.Take care and please don't be to hard on yourself. Joe.

[Guest guest]

,

This is the email I have been grappling with the past few days, and still am. I have struggled with understanding exactly what you are saying; the concept is so new to me, yet so exciting that I think it may be a huge breakthrough for me.

I'm not sure I can make my thoughts coherent, but here goes:

Perhaps I am not really paying compassionate attention to her, the little girl in the story, the little girl I was. I am seeing her as weak, not because she was, but because that is how I view her even now .. even though, as an adult, I have learned that she was not (I am not) responsible for what happened to her, that it wasn't her (my) fault, that she (I) was not weak or shameful. As an adult, I now know all that, but I am still seeing that little girl as weak because the adult Helena feels weak, having carried that false story with her ever since those early days.

Am I perhaps even blaming her for my current struggles? Am I seeing her as damaged? Am I asking too much of this child to expect the meaning of my life as an adult to somehow come from her?

If so, I am stepping away from her instead of moving toward her in loving acceptance. I am forbidding her to play, just as they did.

If I could truly see that child as precious and innocent and totally lovable, perhaps even brave to have stood up to and survived her circumstances, wouldn't that be great!!! Perhaps only then could I move on to seeing myself in those terms.I want to sweep that child up in my arms and tell her she is beautiful and perfect and safe, even though the circumstances in her life were not. I can do that for her. She can't do that for me.

Did I understand your message correctly, ?HelenaFrom: To: ACT_for_the_Public Sent: Sunday, March 15, 2009 4:42 AMSubject: Re: One dayThere is something in here that is very, very painful.I'm moved to say something and I hope it will be helpfuleven though I have to say it in a way that is fairly direct andfrankly somewhat risky*******************Any chance when you get sucked into depression (not as a feeling -- as a lifespiral) it involves stepping away from her? And could this alternative ACT path you are dabbling in be a way to stepforward for her?Look inside yourself and seeWithout acceptance is she being told by you to stop being afraid or "weak"?Without defusion is she being told by you to shut up and pretend? Maybe spit in someone's face or else go home?Without flexible attention to the present moment is she either being ignored by youor stared at like a damaged object?Without a transcendent sense of self is she being told by you that she might indeedbe as worthless as her treatment?Without values is she being told by you to create meaning for all thegrown ups, including you, even if it destroys her?Without committed action is she being told by you to take care of herself ormaybe even to be responsible for the giants, to the point of giving you a kiss and tuckingyou in at night even tho she is the one needing care?******You posted a few days ago about ACT not applying to depressionDoesn't it?Acceptance and defusion is about taking in your history as it is ... much likegiving that little girl a hug.Self and the present is about being here as the living being you are,like listening to her with respect but also having the trust in her to allow her the spaceshe needs just to bevalues and committed action are about taking charge of your lifeand what it is about -- like creating a space for that child to play and grow, knowing thatthe adult things that need to be taken care of are being taken care ofwithout dumping them on her and demanding that she stop playing and grow up instantly****My guess:When the black dog of depression is being fed, she is terrified.When the alienation story gets thick, she is abandoned.when the anger goes inward, she too is a focusFrom an ACt perspective the only way she can be listened to, respected, loved, cared for, and allowed to playis if you -- the grown up you -- choose a vital and self-compassionate path,that acknowledge her pain and carries it forward into a life worth living.She cannot do that for you. You have to do that for her.********the little girl may have been tormented but she survived -- and that in itself was pretty darn brave.She does not deserve to be called weak. If you must do it, do it to her face.As far as not being helped at all -- what if the issue at hand is less whether she was helped thenand more whether you will help her now?To do that, the adult part of you will need to move off aplace that is stuck. She does not need pity.She needs love, acceptance, attention, and safety.Who else can provide that?*********Yes, we need to look at your pain. But wasn't hers 100 times more?Isn't that more of the issue? She was a child, without limited controlover her environment.*********She needs love, acceptance, attention, and safety.Who else but you can begin to provide that?********I hope I'm not totally off base Helena. Email is a limited medium.I hope I'm not totally off base.If I am, my apologies. If not, I bow to your suffering butsay also "what about her? What shall we do for her?"- S C. Foundation ProfessorDepartment of Psychology /298University of NevadaReno, NV 89557-0062hayes@... or stevenchayes@...Fax: Context Press (you can use for messages): (www.contextpress.com)If you want my vita, publications, PowerPoint slides, go to http://www.contextualpsychology.org/blog/steven_hayesAnything about ACT or RFT (articles, AAQ information etc), please first check www.contextualpsychology.orgIf you are a professional or student and want to be part of the world wide ACT discussion or RFT discussions go to http://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/acceptanceandcommitmenttherapy/joinorhttp://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/relationalframetheory/joinIf you are a member of the public reading ACT self-help books (e.g., "Get Out of Your Mind and Into Your Life" etc) go to: http://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/ACT_for_the_Public/joinOn Thu, Mar 12, 2009 at 1:28 PM, Helena wrote:I did not intend to send this message to the ACT list in the first place. I partially filled in the send-to address, and it auto-filled the address for me--you know what I mean.But, since you got the message, I need to make some corrections, in case anyone has read it.I did not see comforting angels that horrid afternoon. I saw threatening ghosts. I did not spit in the house mother's face in defiance; I cowered and tried to become invisible under the covers, but she yanked them off of me and made me face the music.I'm sending this correction -- not that anyone needs to know or even cares -- but because I want to be honest, always.I was not a brave little four-year-old girl who was helped by angels. I was weak and terrified and not helped at all.Thanks for listening,Helena One dayThere was one day in one of the children's homes I was in, among several, that stands out a lot.I threw up my milk at breakfast. They knew it made me sick, yet they kept insisting that I drink it. I could usually get another child to drink it for me before they came checking. This time I wasn't fast enough and they came and insisted that I drink it. I did, and immediately threw up.As punishment, they sent me to my room. My room was actually a huge area that housed about sixteen homeless little girls. It was a warm summer day, and I looked out the window and wanted to be part of the play outside. I felt so dejected. I went back to bed and saw an angel beckoning me from the ceiling; she said it would all be OK; everything would turn out alright. I felt comforted and then fell asleep.I was awakened by the house mother shaking me and demanding that I kiss her goodnight, as all good little girls do. I did not want to kiss her. She sent me to my room for throwing up at breakfast, and I somehow knew that was not fair. So, instead, I spit in her face.She sent me to the linen closet for the night to sleep on the hardwood floor. Many girls had been sent there before and I had heard horror tales of the giant thousand-leggers that roamed there. I had seen the normal sized thousand-leggers and I was terrified of them, and so more terrified of the much bigger ones who lived in the dreaded closet.I spent that night in the fetal position (even though I didn't know the term at the time). I spent the entire night in total terror.The next night, and every night thereafter, I kissed my tormentor on the face when she tucked me in at night.H

[Guest guest]

I am forwarding this message I sent last evening again because I did not see it posted. In fact, several others from me have not posted. So my apologies if it shows up twice : )

Helena

One dayThere was one day in one of the children's homes I was in, among several, that stands out a lot.I threw up my milk at breakfast. They knew it made me sick, yet they kept insisting that I drink it. I could usually get another child to drink it for me before they came checking. This time I wasn't fast enough and they came and insisted that I drink it. I did, and immediately threw up.As punishment, they sent me to my room. My room was actually a huge area that housed about sixteen homeless little girls. It was a warm summer day, and I looked out the window and wanted to be part of the play outside. I felt so dejected. I went back to bed and saw an angel beckoning me from the ceiling; she said it would all be OK; everything would turn out alright. I felt comforted and then fell asleep.I was awakened by the house mother shaking me and demanding that I kiss her goodnight, as all good little girls do. I did not want to kiss her. She sent me to my room for throwing up at breakfast, and I somehow knew that was not fair. So, instead, I spit in her face.She sent me to the linen closet for the night to sleep on the hardwood floor. Many girls had been sent there before and I had heard horror tales of the giant thousand-leggers that roamed there. I had seen the normal sized thousand-leggers and I was terrified of them, and so more terrified of the much bigger ones who lived in the dreaded closet.I spent that night in the fetal position (even though I didn't know the term at the time). I spent the entire night in total terror.The next night, and every night thereafter, I kissed my tormentor on the face when she tucked me in at night.H

[Guest guest]

HelenaYou are very, very close to something important.There is a profound question life and your history and yourown pain is asking of you. You are right up on it.When you say " If I could truly see that child as precious and innocent and totally lovable, perhaps even brave to have stood up to and survived her circumstances, wouldn't that be great!!!   Perhaps only then could I move on to seeing myself in those terms. " let's start by erasing that second part for now. After allshe IS you as you start out in life. So let's not worry now about whether itwould be good for the grown up you -- after all that is precisely the

place where she was tormented. What was good for the grown upswas way too important while what she was experiencing was given too little attention.That was the message of the " drink your milk or else " story.

She stuffed down more than the milk I fear, trying to avoid the oppression.So let's just focus on " If I could truly see that child as precious and innocent and totally lovable, perhaps even brave to have stood up to and survived her circumstances, wouldn't that be great!!! "   But then let's strip out a little more. Ask yourself.Great for whom? Dig down and see if there is a strand still in there of " great for the grown up me -- it might release me from my pain. " If so see if you can put that aside too.

If you must hang on to it, say it to her face: " I am more important than you. I will seeyou as precious and innocent and totally lovablewhen it serves my interests and not before.I'll do it if and only if it will remove my pain --I'm the important one here. Not you. " Then go inside her and see if it isn't another slap in the face.

Strip it bare.And if it is a slap .. must the slaps continue? By you? Is there something else we can do?Should children have to earn " love " and security based on adult self-interest?

Isn't that back asswards?It is a choice, not a judgment, I'm laying out here.Adults bring children into the world. They can step forward and give love and create safety, or not.That can have what they do be about self-interest or

about the children.As I said (or mis-said, since I had a typo in there that changed the meaning)in that original message:**********Yes, we need to look at your pain. But wasn't hers 100 times more?Isn't that more of the issue? She was a child, with limited controlover her environment.She needs love, acceptance, attention, and safety.Who else but you can begin to provide that?*********So who is important here?Back to " If I could truly see that child as precious and innocent and totally lovable and brave " That is close. Very close. But it is not the judgments that we need to line up in a row.After all she had scary self-judgments too ... and makingroom for judgments of all kinds is self-compassionate.

So it is OK to have various thoughts about her, even as it isto create a space where her self-judgmental fears are OKand normal.Don't look within trying to get theself-talk right. It is the choice that goes out toward her that is key.

Will you choose to hold that child close? Will you?Distill it down to its even barer core question.Sit with it. Ask yourself the question, and look at herface. Put her on your lap if she will come voluntarily ...

or just watch her move; watch her play.Watch how she holds herself. Cradle her with your eyes.See through the outside form and note that she was carrying a lot of pain. A lot. Then ask yourself the question

that is there for you to ask.The question is right inside your looking at her.She wondered " am I lovable? " That hurtful question is not your question. Your question is different.

It's about a choice that is here to make.It is from you but it is for hernot for the adult you.Take your time because it will haveprofound implications.Your question is this one: " will you love her? "

....................Sit with it

Go slow.

You can't do this in a mindy way

The judgments are too thick and the pain is too greatWill you love her?Will you?- S C. Foundation ProfessorDepartment of Psychology /298

University of NevadaReno, NV 89557-0062hayes@... or stevenchayes@...Fax: Home (use sparingly):

Cell (even more so): Context Press (you can use for messages): (www.contextpress.com)If you want my vita, publications, PowerPoint slides, go to http://www.contextualpsychology.org/blog/steven_hayes

Anything about ACT or RFT (articles, AAQ information etc), please first check www.contextualpsychology.orgIf you are a professional or student and want to be part of the world wide ACT discussion or RFT discussions go to http://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/acceptanceandcommitmenttherapy/join

orhttp://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/relationalframetheory/joinIf you are a member of the public reading ACT self-help books (e.g., " Get Out of Your Mind and Into Your Life " etc) go to: http://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/ACT_for_the_Public/join

I am forwarding this message I sent last evening again because I did not see it posted.  In fact, several others from me have not posted.  So my apologies if it shows up twice : )

 

Helena

 

One dayThere was one day in one of the children's homes I was in, among several, that stands out a lot.I threw up my milk at breakfast.  They knew it made me sick, yet they kept insisting that I drink it.  I could usually get another child to drink it for me before they came checking.  This time I wasn't fast enough and they came and insisted that I drink it.  I did, and immediately threw up.As punishment, they sent me to my room.  My room was actually a huge area that housed about sixteen homeless little girls.  It was a warm summer day, and I looked out the window and wanted to be part of the play outside.  I felt so dejected.  I went back to bed and saw an angel beckoning me from the ceiling; she said it would all be OK; everything would turn out alright.  I felt comforted and then fell asleep.I was awakened by the house mother shaking me and demanding that I kiss her goodnight, as all good little girls do.  I did not want to kiss her.  She sent me to my room for throwing up at breakfast, and I somehow knew that was not fair.  So, instead, I spit in her face.She sent me to the linen closet for the night to sleep on the hardwood floor.  Many girls had been sent there before and I had heard horror tales of the giant thousand-leggers that roamed there.  I had seen the normal sized thousand-leggers and I was terrified of them, and so more terrified of the much  bigger ones who lived in the dreaded closet.I spent that night in the fetal position (even though I didn't know the term at the time).  I spent the entire night in total terror.The next night, and every night thereafter, I kissed my tormentor on the face when she tucked me in at night.H

[Guest guest]

I am glad (I think) that has not replied to this message. To find the answer on one's own is the most powerful, efficient and honest way to find an answer. Not that we don't need nudges. Thanks, , for the nudge. It was huge.

I know that I have all the tools necessary to defuse this crazy thinking on my part, even if the thinking is a carryover from a child's thoughts. After all, I was there when I was a child, even when no one else was. I was wise; I knew. Now I am suddenly stupid and don't know? Nah.

"Will I love her?"

I don't know for sure, but I think I COULD. I think I CAN. I think I WILL.

I will get there by putting my heart thoughts slam-dunk on that question.

I will get the answer.

Thanks, everyone, for listening.

Helena

One dayThere was one day in one of the children's homes I was in, among several, that stands out a lot.I threw up my milk at breakfast. They knew it made me sick, yet they kept insisting that I drink it. I could usually get another child to drink it for me before they came checking. This time I wasn't fast enough and they came and insisted that I drink it. I did, and immediately threw up.As punishment, they sent me to my room. My room was actually a huge area that housed about sixteen homeless little girls. It was a warm summer day, and I looked out the window and wanted to be part of the play outside. I felt so dejected. I went back to bed and saw an angel beckoning me from the ceiling; she said it would all be OK; everything would turn out alright. I felt comforted and then fell asleep.I was awakened by the house mother shaking me and demanding that I kiss her goodnight, as all good little girls do. I did not want to kiss her. She sent me to my room for throwing up at breakfast, and I somehow knew that was not fair. So, instead, I spit in her face.She sent me to the linen closet for the night to sleep on the hardwood floor. Many girls had been sent there before and I had heard horror tales of the giant thousand-leggers that roamed there. I had seen the normal sized thousand-leggers and I was terrified of them, and so more terrified of the much bigger ones who lived in the dreaded closet.I spent that night in the fetal position (even though I didn't know the term at the time). I spent the entire night in total terror.The next night, and every night thereafter, I kissed my tormentor on the face when she tucked me in at night.H

[Guest guest]

That sequence is really neat. I'm very happy you found the resistance.It is a sign you are right up on it.The judgmental part of our minds does not know how to love ...it is not what that part is for. It is there to solve problems. Love

is an embrace, a leap, a willingness to hold dear,to see someone for who they really are, without conditionality.It is a choice.Minds do not understand that. So when you make loving choicesfor quite some time the mind will chatter on.

Of course. What if its not really true? What if she does not deserve it? What if you can't? etcMake room for the chatter -- it is not trying to harm you really.It is just a one trick pony in a situation it knows nothing about

and cannot understand. Then focus on that sweet kid and her painand her need for you to stand up for her and you will know what to do.You go girl.- S C. Foundation Professor

Department of Psychology /298University of NevadaReno, NV 89557-0062hayes@... or stevenchayes@...Fax:

Context Press (you can use for messages): (www.contextpress.com)If you want my vita, publications, PowerPoint slides, go to http://www.contextualpsychology.org/blog/steven_hayes

Anything about ACT or RFT (articles, AAQ information etc), please first check www.contextualpsychology.orgIf you are a professional or student and want to be part of the world wide ACT discussion or RFT discussions go to http://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/acceptanceandcommitmenttherapy/join

orhttp://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/relationalframetheory/joinIf you are a member of the public reading ACT self-help books (e.g., " Get Out of Your Mind and Into Your Life " etc) go to: http://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/ACT_for_the_Public/join

I am glad (I think) that has not replied to this message.  To find the answer on one's own is the most powerful, efficient and honest way to find an answer.  Not that we don't need nudges.  Thanks, , for the nudge.  It was huge.

 

I know that I have all the tools necessary to defuse this crazy thinking on my part, even if the thinking is a carryover from a child's thoughts.  After all,  I was there when I was a child, even when no one else was.  I was wise; I knew.  Now I am suddenly stupid and don't know?  Nah.

 

" Will I love her? "

 

I don't know for sure, but I think I COULD.  I think I CAN.  I think I WILL.

 

I will get there by putting my heart thoughts slam-dunk on that question.

 

I will get the answer.

 

Thanks, everyone, for listening.

 

Helena

 

One dayThere was one day in one of the children's homes I was in, among several, that stands out a lot.I threw up my milk at breakfast.  They knew it made me sick, yet they kept insisting that I drink it.  I could usually get another child to drink it for me before they came checking.  This time I wasn't fast enough and they came and insisted that I drink it.  I did, and immediately threw up.As punishment, they sent me to my room.  My room was actually a huge area that housed about sixteen homeless little girls.  It was a warm summer day, and I looked out the window and wanted to be part of the play outside.  I felt so dejected.  I went back to bed and saw an angel beckoning me from the ceiling; she said it would all be OK; everything would turn out alright.  I felt comforted and then fell asleep.I was awakened by the house mother shaking me and demanding that I kiss her goodnight, as all good little girls do.  I did not want to kiss her.  She sent me to my room for throwing up at breakfast, and I somehow knew that was not fair.  So, instead, I spit in her face.She sent me to the linen closet for the night to sleep on the hardwood floor.  Many girls had been sent there before and I had heard horror tales of the giant thousand-leggers that roamed there.  I had seen the normal sized thousand-leggers and I was terrified of them, and so more terrified of the much  bigger ones who lived in the dreaded closet.I spent that night in the fetal position (even though I didn't know the term at the time).  I spent the entire night in total terror.The next night, and every night thereafter, I kissed my tormentor on the face when she tucked me in at night.H