Groundhog Day is one of my favorite movies. I love it for a few reasons.
- Bill Murray is a genius. Don’t argue this point with me. I won’t be nice about it.
- I love the idea of living life like there is no tomorrow. While in several parts of this movie, he wasn’t authentic to impress the girl, he also uses this opportunity to do whatever he wants with no concern for what people will think of him. I think it would be awesome to be real with no concern for the repercussions, even for one day. And to be honest, on those cringe-worthy days when my parts take over, it would be nice if everyone else forgot about it (just like me).
- Most importantly, this movie is familiar. Before I found recovery, I didn’t get the sense that anything was different from one day to the next. It was the same thing over and over again. And nothing I did seemed to change that.
But maybe, I didn’t want it to. For so many years, I was balancing the desperate need to live a fulfilling life with the desperate need to stay completely safe. My inner child wanted to do amazing things, but my inner defender never wanted to stray from the norm. It felt like I was trapped inside a life that wasn’t mine, but I couldn’t see a way out. There were too many things stopping me. And they were all on the inside.
And once again, it all stemmed from my horrific childhood. Of course, I have talked endlessly that the need for safety comes from trauma (and to some extent being human). But there is another side to this. I had learned in childhood that making efforts didn’t make any real difference. Nothing was going to get better if I tried different things. And believe me, I tried a lot of things. Nothing stopped the abuse. Nothing made any real difference in my home life. It was still horrific. So my inner parts learned to lay low. Don’t try anything dramatic. Don’t waste your energy. You will need it to deal with the trauma.
So I stopped trying. I would do as little as possible to get through the day. I never attempted anything out of the ordinary. I didn’t try to stop the abuse in a dramatic way. Nothing worked anyway. I just did the bare minimum. I saved my energy, because in reality, I was exhausted from the hyper vigilance.
But as with most childhood defense mechanisms, it didn’t translate well to adulthood. I did enough to get by. I worked hard in the office, but at home, I was often paralyzed. And I was particularly bothered by tasks that had to be repeated again and again. It seemed like a waste of effort, a waste of energy when I was just going to do it again.
Why am I putting on make-up? I am just going to take it off tonight and start all over again.
Why am I cooking food for myself? I am just going to be hungry again in a few hours. I’ll just eat something that doesn’t need preparation to get me through.
Why am I cleaning this kitchen again? It will just be messed up in another hour or two.
And don’t even get me started about the structured, repetitive activities that come with having children. They need to eat three times a day at least. What is up with that? (I feed them. Don’t call CPS.)
So I find this mantra in my head that repeats as I go through the daily motions. “I can do that, but it doesn’t matter.” “I can put in the effort, but it won’t change anything.” “It doesn’t make a difference.”
It is just another meal.
It is just another cleaning.
It is just another blog post.
It is just another Facebook image.
But I know the truth. It does make a difference. Food matters. Cleaning matters (sometimes). My writing matters. Even those images matter. The effort and energy matters, especially when it is accompanied by the feeling that it matters. And that is the difference, isn’t it? If I do something while thinking it doesn’t matter (even unconsciously), then it doesn’t matter. If I do something with the knowledge that it makes a difference, even on a small scale, then it does matter. And it doesn’t have to be different than the day before to matter.
But my inner parts struggle to see it. They are stuck in the past. They are reliving the same trauma over and over and looking for a way out. And they aren’t sure how to find it. Sounds a bit like Groundhog Day, doesn’t it?
So it is my job to show them the way out. And that way out doesn’t involve massive efforts using all of my energy. It is in the approach. And that is the hardest thing to change because it happens on the inside. But if there is one thing I know, inner recovery work matters. It may matter more than anything else in the world.
Ok, thinking this through…my inner child couldn’t change anything…because my inner child had no power and was also conditioned not to see or foresee the red flags and would find myself in the midst of something. I find that I am still duped at this present time. So my defender says limit involvement with people. But my adult self is trying to just learn how to spot the unsafe people. I am hoping that I can prove to my inner child and inner defender that we can have a changed outcome…a better pre-diagnosis of a situation or of a person.
We are often inundated with powerlessness, but that feeling is held by the inner child and is about the past. The big problem is recognizing that. It is hard to see it isn’t about right now. Keep working to separate these parts from your adult self, so you can help them see that things are not as they were. Sending you love and light.
Oh my gosh! So true! I always used to say my life felt more like ground hog day. Then this year, I got my dx of C- PTSD believe it or not, on ground hog day! I would love for you to give some more details in how to manage this.
Much appreciated ?
Hi Monica, I work with my inner parts to heal my trauma. I guide other survivors in doing the same. I would be happy to schedule a free preliminary call with you and talk about what you can do to heal. Just let me know. You can send me an email at beatingtrauma@gmail.com.
Hi Elizabeth. I just want to thank you for sharing your writing and videos. My psycologist told me about you, and how inspiring you are. She was right!
I showed your video about the “mean child” to my sister about a month ago. I ended up telling her a little about the abuse, (not much) just to let her understand that im not doing therapy because im bored or pathetic. My siblings are amazing. I just can’t talk about it, and I won’t.
Your video, gave me the courage to say “I’m going for help” and it made her realise that, this is serious. I’m doing EMDR with a wonderful shrink. It is just soooooo hard.
Thank you for doing what you’re doing. It makes a difference.
Thank you so much Amanda! I am glad my work is facilitating your speaking out in whatever way feels comfortable right now. EMDR can be so hard, but so beneficial. I am sending my love and light to you as you work with your trauma in this way.
Reading this I snickered a few times. You’re funny. Laughing has helped me over humps quite a bit. I tend to prefer silly or offbeat humor that doesn’t have to make sense or be brilliantly cruel.
I have probably read this blog before, but rereading it today I kept thinking ‘That’s me!’ albeit less so than even a year ago. This is encouraging. Little celebratory fireworks ignited in my awareness at most if not all of the inner struggles you shared.
I had a new realization as well. When I first recognized my depression as a teen, the loss of creativity was very obvious to me.
Not creativity in an artistic sense so much as futility smothering hope. In current parlance “hope” might be something like the buzzword “resilience”. Looking back at myself, I realize that I expected too much of the lonely teen who had a lot of crap to deal with. And no resources to call upon outside of myself (save for my best friend).
I think I am becoming a better friend to myself.
I have no doubt that you are. You are loving yourself with this healing journey.
Great post. But how do you know how to get out??.
I find that emotional journaling builds the awareness we need to stop the repeating patterns over time. It is a slow process, but it works.