The little girl and the hammer
by Kyeli on July 31st, 2009 @ 9:30 am in
How To Be Awesome
There’s this thing I’ve never talked about before. I’ve kept it buried deep inside, locked in a tiny box inside a bigger box thrown into the well of my mind.
Deep dark secret stuff.
When I was 12, my parents got divorced.
I was Daddy’s Little Girl. Golden star child, love of his life, sparkle in his eye, spring in his step… and suddenly, he was gone. My mom was cast as the villain by him and, therefore, by me.
I needed to love her, but I hated her.
I knew I was everything she didn’t want in a daughter. I was fat, obnoxious, loud, dark-haired. I was just like my father.
And she left my dad. She stopped loving him. So how could she possibly love me?
But, as much as I hated her, I needed her to love me. I needed to know she loved me. I needed to feel it, to see it, to hear it, all the time. I was super needy and clingy and terrified and lonely, but she needed to get out and away. She’d spent a long time in a marriage she didn’t want to be in, and when she finally got free, she went a little crazy. She started going out a lot, leaving me home to care for my little brother (whom I also hated for various reasons).
A few months later, I fell and broke my wrist. It was a hairline fracture, and took weeks to be discovered by the doctors. During the entire process, my mom was tender and attentive and gentle and loving – she suddenly transformed into exactly what I needed her to be.
But when my wrist healed, she went back to the way she’d been before.
And I learned a dreadful lesson.
One night, after she and my brother were in bed, I crept out into the garage and got the hammer.
I went back into my room and hid under my desk.
I quietly laid my chair on its side.
And I thought about my plan.
I planned to smash my ankle with the hammer, then hide it in my desk. Then I would tell my mom that I’d fallen off the chair when I’d tried to reach something high on the shelves.
So, there I am: a terrified kid, smooshed under my desk, chair on its side in front of me, wishing I’d get caught with no real hope of it happening. Appropriately, a storm rolled in and thunder started booming. I gripped the hammer tightly in my hand and started crying, silent tears rolling down my cheeks. I raised the hammer, took a deep breath, and pelted my ankle with it.
It hurt.
I stopped.
It didn’t break my ankle. Barely bruised me, in fact. My arm refused to use enough strength to do more than that.
And I know, because I tried. Over and over again, that night, hidden under my desk.
I learned another lesson.
I gave up, eventually, and crawled out from under my desk. Set my chair upright, snuck out and replaced the hammer. Went to bed and sobbed myself to sleep.
And became the klutziest kid I’ve ever known.
Since that night, I’ve broken both wrists, torn all the ligaments and tendons in my left knee, dislocated both shoulders, sprained and strained and damaged most of my joints, broken fingers and toes and other small bones. My brain/body/heart learned that, while I couldn’t overtly intentionally cause damage to myself, damage got me the attention I so desperately needed from the one person I needed it from the most – and so began to subconsciously generate accidents.
When I moved out of my mother’s house, I moved into my partner’s. She had a similar attitude towards injuries, so the pattern didn’t die off.
There have even been times when I’ve eyed a hammer or a convenient ladder or other terrifying tools, times when I’ve been especially lonely or desperate for attention, when my soul has been weeping and knotted up and lost.
But then things changed.
Eventually, I met myself. I started paying attention to myself. I started listening to those urges, honoring those impulses by acknowledging them without carrying them through instead of burying them and pretending they didn’t exist – or worse, hating myself for having them.
And, slowly, the injuries stopped.
But then, things stayed the same.
Then there was the car accident.
Two years ago, I was going to a Starbucks when a car ran through a yellow arrow, making a left-hand turn into me.
My wrist and shoulder were seriously damaged. And I was plunged into a world of injury, pain, fear, and triggers.
My recovery was slow. Some of the damage done to my arm was permanent.
My emotional recovery was even slower. It was eight months before I could drive again, over a year before I went to that Starbucks again, and I still flinch every time I go through that intersection in the same direction.
I did recover, mostly. But the injuries returned. Not long after my wrist surgery, I fucked up my ankle. I still don’t know what was wrong with it, but it was so intensely painful I couldn’t sleep. I wound up in a wheelchair for a month because my wrist wasn’t recovered enough to support me on crutches.
Slowly, my ankle recovered. My wrist got stronger. My shoulder got stronger. I stopped wishing I could just take my heavy narcotic painkillers and sleep all the time, and started looking forward to my life again.
My heart started recovering.
My spirit started recovering.
Some lessons are hard-learned.
And then, last week, I turned my foot upside down when I slid on some water on the kitchen floor. There’s some pretty bad damage there; it’s swollen and sore and can’t support my weight for too long. It’s all still so swollen, well up into my ankle, that it’s hard to say what exactly is injured, but I suspect a fracture.
And all these issues flooded back.
Yesterday morning, I was exercising in spite of the pain in my foot. I promised myself I would exercise every day in July, and I refuse to break that promise.
About 20 minutes in, I broke down. I started weeping, sobbing. I stopped exercising and sat on the pedals of my elliptical and wept for a good ten minutes, then drug myself out to the porch swing and sobbed for another twenty.
I kept thinking about that little girl, hiding under her desk, so desperate for attention that she was trying to smash her own ankle with a hammer.
I looked at my ankles, now all grown up.
I’ve spent my life trying to please everyone around me.
I’ve tried to be the perfect wife, the perfect mom, the perfect daughter.
I’ve tried to be the best, most loyal friend, even when the friendships were toxic for me.
I’ve smooshed myself into boxes – under desks – of all sorts for people of all sorts.
And I’ve waited for someone to love me.
Waited for someone to see me, to know me, to really get me. Waited for someone to pay attention to me in the way I really need attention paid.
A couple of days ago, I wrote myself love notes and taped them up all over the house. They range from “Good morning, beautiful!” to “I love you just as you are, right now in this moment, every moment.”
This morning, I looked at my ankles.
I remembered being so small, so scared, and so alone. Hiding under my desk, so desperate to be found.
Kyeli, I’m here.
I’m the one who loves you.
I’m the one who sees you.
I’m the one who will save you.
I’m the one who will find you when you’re lost.
I’m the one you’ve been waiting for.
Sweet little Kyeli, you’re not alone. You don’t have to hide under the desk anymore, because I’m right here. And it’s okay to get hurt. Injuries happen. It doesn’t mean you’re sick or stupid or even careless. And I will love you when you’re hurt, and I will love you when you’re healthy. I will love you when you’re fat, and I will love you when you’re not.
I see myself in all my parts, and I know myself in all my parts, and I love myself in all my parts. All my broken, healing, terrified, happy, singing, warbling, screaming parts.
Forever and ever.
The end.
or, I guess, the beginning.
- Related posts:
- That Idea Blueprint Girl
- You are what you want to be.
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29 Comments!
#2 Posted by 
Seannon on July 31st, 2009 10:09 am | link
darn you for making me cry at work!
It’s a beautiful, sad, and I suspect universal story. Thank you for sharing it.
#3 Posted by 
Nathalie Lussier on July 31st, 2009 10:31 am | link
Wow Kyeli. I really understand so much more now. I have seen the “getting hurt” thing happen before. My parents both broke their ankles, my mom broke each one. I don’t necessarily think it’s because they wanted attention, but I do believe there’s some sort of emotional reason for these things. Like you mentioned, it’s not about being bad/wrong for getting hurt, it’s about loving yourself no matter what.
Here’s me hugging you lots, both the little scared Kyeli and the strong self-loving Kyeli.
#4 Posted by 
Hiro Boga on July 31st, 2009 11:01 am | link
Oh, Kyeli, big loving hugs for that little girl. And great big applause for you, for taking such good care of her now.
Thank you for writing this beautiful, vulnerable, heart-wide-open post.
Love, Hiro
#5 Posted by 
Tiara on July 31st, 2009 11:03 am | link
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
*smooshes*
I gave myself a boost of self-love the other night too. I was having such a terrible time the past couple of months, and I get ESPECIALLY depressed when I start my period. Like 180 suicidal. I was listening to Fabeku’s Sacred Sound clip for possibly the 8th time in a row and my heart just hurt so much.
I saw my inner me, the 4 year old girl in the dress from the photo with a balloon (who I met through some other selfwork) needing a hug. And I gave it lots of hugs. Interestingly enough, she was a lot more forgiving of me than I had to be of her. Probably because she was still so innocent and hadn’t faced the ugliness of the world then. She came from a time when all was good.
lots of hugs to little kyeli and now kyeli and all sorts of kyelis in between. I can understand harming yourself to get love. I was never a typical self-harmer sort but often I’ve wondered if I should just go off the deep end already so that someone will notice I’m hurting. It’s dangerous, but it’s how our minds tend to work…
*HUGS HUGS HUGS*
#6 Posted by Tiara on July 31st, 2009 11:20 am | link
Oh yeah, and my inner 4-y-o wants to give you & your inner child a red balloon.
#7 Posted by 
MoonsLark on July 31st, 2009 11:28 am | link
Awww… I didn’t connect this in my own life. I stopped having accidents years ago, when I went from WANTING desperately to be loved and cared for and about, to accepting that I am completely invisible to most people. I used to cut on purpose, and when I stopped doing that (when I got married) I started having accidents that caused me to be put out of commission (but my husband didn’t really bother to help or care for me or our children) and made me realize that I have to be self sufficient and not really seek love and attention from outside of myself… but I didn’t connect that the accidents might be a part of me seeking something from others either…
Thanks for writing this… it took a lot of courage and self love… I’m proud of you!!!
**HUGS**
#8 Posted by 
Paula on July 31st, 2009 11:29 am | link
*big hugs*
#9 Posted by 
Joann on July 31st, 2009 11:36 am | link
Kyeli,
That took a lot of heart to write all that down, and then to share with the world. Good for you…now you will never need a shrink!! ; ) Always, Joann
#10 Posted by 
Jessica Reagan Salzman on July 31st, 2009 11:56 am | link
Oh my goodness. I have so much to say in response, but I would like to do so privately. May I e-mail you?
And my public comment? You are an incredible, brave, strong soul and I send you love just like the love you’re sending to yourself. Hugs!!!
#11 Posted by 
Tatty Franey on July 31st, 2009 11:56 am | link
such honesty and so much self-discovery in this post. i have tears rolling down my face – tears of joy for you loving yourself now. and i have this tingling on my chest coming from all this good energy that you have released here.
thanks for opening up.
much love
tatty
#12 Posted by 
Mahala Mazerov on July 31st, 2009 12:52 pm | link
Oh sweetie, sweetie, sweetie. My heart aches for the child you were and cheers for your self-compassion now. I wonder how many of us have variations on this story or other heartbreaking childhood pain. I hope your courage in writing this brings blessings to you and all who need it.
#13 Posted by 
Betsy Wuebker on July 31st, 2009 12:59 pm | link
This post should have a 3-kleenex warning! So beautiful and honest, just like you! It’s hard sometimes for parents, too. It’s been my observation that the vast majority of parents love their children deeply and fiercely. They’ve got the why, they just don’t realize how, what or when.
#14 Posted by 
BunnyKissd on July 31st, 2009 1:47 pm | link
{{{hugs}}}
#15 Posted by 
Sonia Simone on July 31st, 2009 3:50 pm | link
Big hug & kiss for you. xoxo
#16 Posted by 
Shannon Henry on July 31st, 2009 4:01 pm | link
Hmm, I commented earlier but it seems not to have made it through.
This is a beautiful post… thanks so much for writing and sharing it.
#17 Posted by 
julekucera on July 31st, 2009 4:15 pm | link
Kyeli. Oh, my. As others have said, there is so much honesty in this post….it is so raw. I am glad you are loving that little girl under the desk and in every other dark small place where she has smushed herself to earn love. I am glad you are loving that little girl and that you have decorated you home with love notes. I am glad you are loving not just your ankles but also the hand that would raise the hammer.
#18 Posted by 
Nobody on July 31st, 2009 4:19 pm | link
Thanks for sharing that. I get really clumsy when I’m feeling rushed. Obviously, some of that is straight-up physiological, but I’ve wondered how much might be triggered by previous experience – knowing I’ll get to finally REST if I get hurt.
Two of the women I’ve lived with get clumsy when they feel like they’re not getting their needs met emotionally. In both cases, it’s toe-stubbing. With the first one, it got to the point that I could tell when she was going to, and I would place her on “toe patrol” until we had a chance to talk.
#19 Posted by 
Charlotte on July 31st, 2009 5:33 pm | link
Thank you, Kyeli, for writing such a moving post. I had tears in my eyes.
The expressions of it may be different for all of us (clumsiness, overeating, or many other things), but the pain is the same and the need for love is the same.
#20 Posted by 
Victoria Brouhard on July 31st, 2009 11:56 pm | link
Thank you for sharing such a tender story with all of us.
It makes me think about how kids internalize what happens around them, and my heart breaks for young Kyeli and all the other kids out there who can’t possibly understand the true meaning of what they’re witnessing.
But it’s such a beautiful thing that you are finding ways to give that little girl what she needs. And that you’re modeling it for all of us.
#21 Posted by 
Fabeku on August 1st, 2009 10:34 am | link
You absolutely inspire me with this level of transparency, courage and trust.
It’s rare that I’m at a loss for words, but, I am. That’s how powerful this was.
So, not many words, but lots of hugs, admiration and respect.
#22 Posted by 
Clare K. R. Miller on August 1st, 2009 5:31 pm | link
Wow… despite what you said on Twitter, I didn’t expect this post to make me cry. And actually, it didn’t. But I did get teary-eyed and choked up, which is definitely the closest I get when I’m not angry!
::hugs::
#23 Posted by 
Herbert on August 1st, 2009 11:07 pm | link
Wow, that’s a really powerful story. Even though I’m typically not the “Chicken Soup” kind of guy, I really feel the emotion and strength behind it. Good piece. I wish you the best and hope you become less clumsy, haha.
#24 Posted by 
Kira on August 2nd, 2009 10:12 pm | link
I love you for this post, Kyeli.
#25 Posted by 
Red on August 3rd, 2009 7:27 am | link
What so many people do not get, that in order to be the best you can be for others (and there is nothing wrong with that), is that you have to be a wee bit selfish and concentrate on you in order to right yourself.
Do whatever it takes to fix you, then you cna help others if that is what you so desire.
#27 Posted by 
Eileen on August 3rd, 2009 11:19 am | link
Wow, Kyeli. What an amazing story. I want to give little Kyeli a hug and silly kisses and make her feel loved and safe.
As for grown-up Kyeli, I just want to say how overwhelmingly impressed I am by your ability to *figure this shit out*. Because OMG how easy would it be to just scoot through life and never really look that closely at any of it? Love to you, and your deep awareness and strength ~ Eileen
#28 Posted by 
bf on August 5th, 2009 1:11 pm | link
Well, everyone else is stroking you so I’ll be the first to take the opposing position. And just maybe, if you’re as open minded as you claim to be, you won’t delete my post..
Ready?? Here it goes.. “Get over yourself”. I see a psychologically weak soul that needs help from a shrink.. or, maybe get God into your life. I don’t know.. but you need something to cure all this fricking self pity.
#29 Posted by Self-Forgiveness Revisited « Becoming the Living Poet on August 9th, 2009 7:06 am | link
[...] I decided to catch up on a few Freak Revolution posts in the hopes of finding something that would either help alleviate some of the angst or at least help remind me not to expect the person I love to fix it for me. (Freak Revolution is a blog about communication and self acceptance. Not sure why I haven’t added it to my blog roll yet. I read it all the time. I’m remedying that now.) I came across a post that did both. It’s called The Little Girl and the Hammer. [...]
#1 Posted by
kate on July 31st, 2009 10:02 am | link
wow – i am so glad i am reading this at home as now *I* am boohooing in your honor! Thank you for sharing, I know it will help others. It hurts my heart to know there are kids who feel this way and I just want to scoop them all up and hug them and love them all. Even when they are all grown up. Your point here is fantastic though – the most important person to love you – is you. Thank you so so so very much for sharing!! *hugs&love*