Everybody has a place in them, a voice in them that represents our inner child…
My little boy used to be in charge more than not, driving my ‘mental’ bus and he shouldn’t even have been driving but I was asleep at the wheel or back talking to the passengers unaware of the looming crash that was happening. That boy, he didn’t want to be in charge but I would dissociate into the ‘place’ I go when things get too strong or emotions become too hard and he would be left to deal.
He also used to ‘drive’ when we ate until at a certain point in my recovery, he and I came to an agreement that suited both of our desires. My rational brain wanted to be healthy, to lose weight and to stop eating potato chips all the time. My little boy wanted to look cute and thin for the first time in his existence so we agreed to stop eating potato chips. I drive that bus a little more now and he is very grateful that we look so svelte (although we both miss potato chips.)
And again, my little boy used to drive the ‘who picks the clothes’ bus until I made sense with him that we weren’t ‘putting on airs’ by dressing nicer, just projecting a finer image and it is this type of ‘conversation’ that has helped me to put a dent in numerous behaviors like smoking, drinking and other pains left to me as an Adult Child. Once the little boy felt he could trust me, he became much more amiable and agreeable that we both can come to decisions and come to a critical consensus that we can both live with.
And now it’s time for us to trade the wheel again and this time it’s the touchiest of subjects, so touchy he might not even let me bring it up without drifting off into Neverland: Females.
Rejection is a massive cognitive dissonance that neither me nor my little boy had any interest even broaching, but as he grows and I grow, there is an interest in sharing our life and times with love and companionship. Rejection is a natural thing and I have worked with my boy for years to chip away at the fear-based reaction that is so automatic in us, but rejection is only part of this inability to connect on an intimate level.
There is also the other part, the part where I didn’t get to play much as a child and would get dragged to work on the weekends and today, 30 years later, I still want desperately to play and have a secret motivation pushing against all social pursuits be they with a love interest or a platonic: I like to be alone and exceedingly want to stay inside and play with my things and be alone. I protect this time like a bus driver protects his bus, if his bus was made of diamonds and gold and beer flowed from the dashboard and steaks fried on the radiator. I want this time; my little boy wants this time and I will give it to him.
But I have to find the balance of having this time and being with people and I have to get my little boy’s help because he is the ‘make or break’ point of the entire endeavor. If I am to find a balance where I get to enjoy my coveted alone time as well as a wonderful and full love-interest relationship, then I am going to need all of his help.
And I’m gonna have to take the wheel on this one, little boy. It’s my turn for once and he couldn’t be more relieved.