I fell into a Matchbox 20 hole recently which, in my book, is a pretty good hole to fall in. I'm just now realizing how much my tastes at 15-years-old were those of a 30-year-old man. Makes sense, because that's the only demographic that seemed to really matter to music execs during that time, before they realized how much money teenaged girls actually have to spend. Cue the rise (and subsequent market domination) of pop music, Taylor Swift, and every Disney Channel/Nickelodeon starlet churning out an album. Matchbox 20's 2002 album, "More Than You Think You Are," was on constant repeat in my Walkman. I listened to this album so much that my favorite songs were all scratched up and skipped horribly by the time I made the transition to an mp3 player. As I was listening to the album again, I was reminded how brilliant the songs on this album were, how vulnerable the lyrics Rob Thomas and other band members were writing during this time. Released at the height of their popularity, it's an underrated album - it wasn't as successful as their previous albums and was probably the start of their gradual decent into late 90s/early 00s playlists. But it meant something to me.
I'm in the process of reading several psychology books and watching a lot of therapy-related YouTube videos - a process commonly called "self-healing," which has become popular in spiritual communities. For good reason, of course. A lot of what holds us back is based in the pain we hold on to. The false beliefs we still don't realize are defense mechanisms and excuses for not moving forward. And dedication to protecting our core wounds rather than facing them head on to really examine where they come from. Because it hurts. I know it hurts. I'm reading this book called "Inner Bonding" by Dr. Margaret Paul. Inner Bonding is a therapy methodology she developed for her patients to work with their Inner Child. It's very closely related to the idea of reparenting, in which you become the parent you wish you had when you were actually a child. Some may write it off as hippie nonsense, but most of the work is cultivating self-compassion, self-validation, learning how to meet your own emotional needs, and listening to your inner voice. Something people with healthy levels of self-esteem and who recognize their self-worth already know how to do. Spoiler alert: There's actually not very many of those people. There's a lot of reasons for that, many of which are rooted in our culture, societal expectations, and ancestral trauma, but that's a rant for another day.
After reading all this stuff and going through my own journey, I've found I don't really have sustained negative feelings towards others. Even people who have hurt me - I may have a flash of anger in the moment but I calm down quick, especially if I have a minute to myself. I'm able to remember who I want to be, remember that I'm interconnected with this other person, and I don't know what their struggle has been like. We only see the situation from our perspective, through our lens of hurt. The weird thing about Inner Child work is the more you focus on your own Child, you start to see other people as a reflection of their Inner Child, and it becomes easier to be a more compassionate adult. There's a common saying in the counseling community: "Hurt people hurt people." While it's often said as a warning about getting involved with others, it's also a reminder to address your own wounds first, so you don't unintentionally hurt others. It stops you from saying that clever-yet-hurtful zinger during drinks with coworker or raising your voice in anger when your child disobeys you or crossing someone's boundaries because it felt like rejection to you. Things we often do without thinking, because we're on autopilot. Mindfulness and therapy get you off autopilot and the world is a better place for it. And yes, that's a hill I'm willing to die on.
Shake it down on a drawing board
Do their best to change you
They still can't erase you
This song could be imagined from the point of view of an old boyfriend singing to a girl who has gone off to find her place in the world. I, however, have always thought of it as being sung to the girl by someone she's imagining, like an imaginary friend or perhaps her Inner Adult. I was sparked by something Dr. Paul said in her book. When we are weeping and in distress, we often long for someone to comfort us - the Ideal Partner or Perfect Parent - and are often disappointed when the person cast in that role either doesn't show up in the desired way or doesn't show up at all. She goes on to say we have to be that comfort for ourselves - we have to be willing to show up for ourselves, to say "I'm here and I won't leave you in your time of need."
I am with you now
I like to think I'm really easy to calm down when I'm upset. All I want, all I'm looking for, is for someone to hold me and tell me it's going to be okay. It seems simple, until you have to cross the ocean of human complexity. Most people aren't equipped to understand that - they are too lost in their own trauma and act in ways they don't fully understand. Often, they react out of fear - fear of rejection, fear of intimacy, fear of failure. That's when the inner bonding process helps. You have to be the person who validates your experiences, who tries to soothe your pain. The person who affirms you didn't deserve to be screamed at or hit for making a small mistake; you didn't deserve to be ignored and neglected; that you have a right to your feelings and thoughts, no matter how uncomfortable it might make others. I like to read the comments on the videos I watch while I listen to whatever I'm learning. Lately, it's just hard because when people share their stories, my heart goes out to them. I'm sorry someone is treating you/treated you so horribly. I'm sorry that person is your parent, your spouse, your sibling, or your friend. You deserve to be surrounded by people who are loving and compassionate all the time, not when it's convenient for them. I can't tell that to everyone, but based what I'm understanding from Dr. Paul's work, I can start with myself and work outward from there.
I didn't understand it at the time but "Hand Me Down" was what I played when I needed to feel comforted. When I was feeling particularly isolated and sad, like when I found myself hiding in a closet. I don't think I pictured anyone in particular singing it to me, it was just the lyrics. It sounded like the girl Rob Thomas was singing to wanted to be an actress and, at 15-years-old, I very much related to that. I don't want to be an actress anymore - I loved it at the time and I learned so many lessons from it, but I realized pretty quickly that, even though I had the talent, I didn't have the level of passion needed to make it. And that's what you really need to pull through when you're feeling rejected and not good enough. You have to have a passion for your own dreams, your own vision of your life. And when even that's not working, there's songs like this to get you through those rough nights. I hope someone out there finds comfort in it.
"Hand Me Down" Video
No comments:
Post a Comment