The Sled

Through a recent series of events I've become aware of a study about adverse childhood experiences called the ACE's study.  This was a research study conducted by Kaiser and the CDC starting in the 90's that revealed there was a strong correlation between a child’s exposure to traumatic experiences—including psychological, physical, and sexual abuse, or living in a violent or unstable household—and their likelihood of developing certain diseases in adulthood, including cancer, chronic lung disease, heart and liver disease. Also, these adverse childhood experiences are very common.  It's groundbreaking, in my opinion, to learn this.  Without a doubt, there is a biological connection between early adversity and physical health later in life.  There is a questionnaire you can take to find out how many ACE's you have and I promptly did just that.  Now, unsurprisingly to me, I do not have a single one on the list of 10 possible adverse childhood experiences.  I had a delightful childhood and grew up in a loving and stable home.

But it did get me thinking a bit.

As I've mentioned before many times, these life lessons keep popping up in a variety of ways in my life.  And I am doing what wiser people than myself have admonished, which is to continue to apply those things and remind myself of them in new and interesting ways.

That being said, I am sensitive to the fact that my experiences may pale in comparison to some really awful things others have gone through.  But I also truly believe that “Pain is pain. If we diminish our problems we are judging ourselves and everyone else whose problems we have placed lower down on the hierarchy of pain.” -Lori Gottlieb.

As has been firmly established, I have a few issues with perfectionism and being a pleaser.  I struggle with change and do not have a great track record of trusting myself, always preferring not to rock the boat rather than speak my truth.  These challenges have been reinforced by decades of negative thought patterns and I'm slowly waking up to the reality of just how ingrained those patterns are.  I liken it to a sled sliding down a hill of fresh powdery snow.  The sled makes a connection from Point A to Point B the first time.  Then next time the sled is place at Point A, the route down the hill that provides the least resistance and the fastest route is the same one as the first time to Point B.  Over and over the sled's grooves slide deeper and deeper into the snow until it is nearly impossible for the sled “jump the tracks” to make any other connection.

I've been attempting to shove my sled off those tracks as much as possible over the past 8 months or so with Edna – sometimes successfully and sometimes not so much.   And although I had a beautiful childhood it was not one of fairytales.  Like my 15 year old recently said to me after his girlfriend broke up with him,  “If every pork chop was perfect we wouldn't have hot dogs.”  So it was through learning of this ACE's study that I started seeing how those connections in my brain may have been “calcified” through some fairly significant experiences.


4TH GRADE

My besties, Helene and Stephanie, and I were attached at the hip.  Sleepovers, notes written in class, singing the Footloose soundtrack on the playground, and trading lunches were a regular part of my life.  That is until, one day, out of the blue and for no apparent reason, Helene and Stephanie decided they weren't going to be my friend anymore. And not only that but they convinced everyone else in the 4th grade that I was not to be befriended.  I pled for them to tell me what I did wrong or how I failed them so that I could apologize and fix it and know not to ever do that again!  But the response I got was not an answer.  Instead it was a classic play of “Did you here anybody talking Stephanie?” pretending they didn't hear me speaking – acting as if they didn't see me standing right in front of them begging for them to be my friend again.  This resulted in a weeks long ordeal in which I hid in a stall in the girls bathroom every recess and did anything possible to stay home from school. The pain and embarrassment were so intolerable that I developed headaches and belly aches and cried each night in bed.

After a few weeks those girls decided to be my friend again, for no clear reason.  I tried asking but they refused to tell me what awful crime I had committed.  Without knowing the reason I could only guess as to the multitude of possibilities in which I had failed as a friend and human.  The wrongs I could have rendered were endless in my mind.  How could a 9 year old possibly have the capacity to understand any of that?  To try to avoid in the future the confusion and fear and misery I had experienced, my little developing brain made a connection that said, “Always be the perfect friend, agreeable and pleasing and never do anything wrong.”  My proverbial sled made it's way down the snowy hill on track to confirm that if I didn't mess up and kept everyone else happy, maybe I could avoid this suffering in the future.  And it was a really heavy sled.

I was told recently by my mom that it took weeks for my parents to drag it out of me what was happening at school.   Because of that choice not to share it, I was coming to whatever conclusions I could come to all on my own.  And that only solidified my assessment of the situation with that sled digging some incredibly deep grooves into my little growing identity.


7TH GRADE

During PE class, one of the most popular girls in school would routinely cheat on the lap runs and, consequently, always come in first.  This had been happening for quite a while.  And my teacher would often comment on how fast Amy was or “great job Amy!”  Since the PE teacher was also the coach of all of my after school sports teams, of which Amy was a part, this aggravated me endlessly.  It seemed so unfair that she would run one less lap than everyone else and still get praise and dibs on the starting lineup on the team.  So, I finally broke and let slip, “Yeah she always comes in first because she cheats a lap every time.”  Although maybe not an ideal approach, I was sick of standing by while injustice was happening!  It wasn't fair and I had chosen to have my voice of truth and integrity be heard.

Yeah, huge mistake.

The next day I was met in the halls of the Jr High by Amy and her posse of popular kids and mean girls shouting , “Nark! Nark! Nark!” as I walked past them.  They jeered and tormented me at every opportunity and persuaded others to “Don't talk to her, she's a nark.”  My partners in math class turned their bodies away from me and tried not to make eye contact.  My friend from church (who was my only real friend at the time outside of school) didn't want to be seen with me and only talked to me secretly or when others weren't looking.  I was a pariah and no one wanted to risk being grouped in with that humiliation.  This went on for a month.  I was in a perpetual state of anxiety and humiliation, showing up at the last minute for the bell, eating lunch in the math teachers room every day by myself, and bolting to leave at schools end.

This time my sled was not only digging deeper the groove of perfection and pleasing but also adding in, “Don't rock the boat or you will suffer shame and isolation.  Don't speak your truth for fear of torment and rejection.”  Just last week when I asked my mom about her memories of this time her response shocked me.

“I've never heard this story before. I had no idea this was happening to you.”

So again for some reason I felt as if I had to carry this burden alone.  I'm unsure why I would have kept such an awful thing to myself but my guess is that I felt so much shame about it that I didn't want anyone else to know.  I likely also thought I had done something wrong and was embarrassed by my actions.  These are only guesses but either way I was incredibly isolated and alone in my suffering, further reinforcing my self narrative.

These experiences haven't been particularly painful for me to sift through right now.  I have told those stories to others throughout my life here and there and brushed them off as a common childhood bump in the road.  And that may be true. But what is really helpful for me at this particular time in my life was for me to recognize why I am the way that I am.

And that it's not my fault.

I have been known to become frustrated that I have these tendencies.  Often.  Mostly because I know now how little they are serving me.  But recognizing how long ago these connections had been solidified – how deep that sled track has become over the decades – was liberating.  I could let go of blaming myself and forgive.  And I can be easy on myself when that sled keeps choosing the path of least resistance and speeding down the hill.  Because I haven't done anything wrong but be a human being.

And it might be the case that for the rest of my life I'll be making efforts to shove that sled off it's tracks.  And that's OK too.

Because it's not my fault.

“Part of getting to know yourself is to unknow yourself—to let go of the limiting stories you've told yourself about who you are so that you aren't trapped by them, so you can live your life and not the story you've been telling yourself about your life.” - Lori Gottlieb