Smart Heavy

I got to Doc’s in utter despair this morning. Doc suggested that I study what I was feeling as if I was beside it, this way I would be activating the thinking side of my brain instead of the limbic system side. He did warn me that when I do this I may start to get memories of feelings or actual memories. I started to do what he suggested, and without realizing what I was doing I broke into a big smile. At this point, I’ll let Smart Heavy take over …

“Yeah, like I was going to let Beatriz do what Doc wanted. Poor girl isn’t ready yet for that. Doc means well, but he doesn’t know her as well as I do. Doc asked me what my “purpose” is. I told him I’m a heavy, a Smarty Heavy. Not a bouncer. I’m better than a bouncer because I use my words, not my fists, unless I’m forced to do so. However, it’s always as a last resort. 

I told my mother she was an awful parent, didn’t deserve children. She always heard my truth. Doc asked me how that came to be, and I told him it’s because I know right from wrong. I always call things as I see them. For better or for worse, I have no filter. Doc also asked me when I was born. That would be when my mother brought the stupid man home, the idiot that would become my stepfather.

Doc wants to know my name. Yeah, right! Like I would hand that over like a business card! I just gave him my smile that let him know that he was pushing his luck. He was able to accept not knowing my name right away.

It was time for me to speak up though. The little peeps were having a heart attack when Doc suggested his latest exercise. He’s not a bad guy, but the little peeps get scared easily. Someone has to look out for them.”

7 thoughts on “Smart Heavy

  1. Reblogged this on laurablough and commented:
    I found the reference to a ‘Smart Heavy’ to be very interesting. Recently I have been engaged in an art project where I have been trying to depict different aspects of my internal critic. For one of these I felt compelled to draw a “heavy” inflexible, enforcer, type of figure. The title of bouncer fits really well.

    For me I have the opposite problem from yours. I am far too much in the thinking part of my brain and unfamiliar or even scared of my limbic brain. I have been on anti-depressants for around 2 years and I am wondering if by weening myself off of them I might remove some of the power behind my “Bouncer.” Before I can “get better” I need to be able to address the issues that bring me pain and I am wondering if my meds are preventing or hindering me from doing so.

    I also found the reference to your ‘heavy’ as acting as a protector to your other peeps to be very interesting as my therapist and I talked about something similar during my last appointment. I addressed one aspect of my critic who proclaimed to be protecting me from being hurt. She protects me from anxiety and pain but as the same time causes those feelings in me. Anyway your reference resonated with me. I think many of us have aspects of ourselves that feel the need to protect “the rest of us.”

  2. It is so strange for me to understand completely about Heavy Smart and the Bouncer. My inner protector was called the Tough Girl (around 16 years old). In my mind, she wore black leather, chains, just mean weapons. She, too, appeared early on in my therapeutic recovery to protect the little ones inside of me, for she didn’t trust ME to take care of them. She thought I was just like my mother, who hated children. Much time was spent proving to Tough Girl that I was a good mother to my boys (reminding her of the fun times I had raising my 2 boys, and what fine husbands and fathers they are to their own children.)

    Gradually, it became a “back and forth” deal. TG would cut me a little slack to see if I would go at a slow enough pace the little girls could handle. If I became overwhelmed, exhausted from dissociation and spend a few days in bed, TG would take over. But when I kept explaining to her therapy was hard work, and I was doing my best to “recover” my girls, TG became a little more patient with me, but always with a cautious eye. TG and I “talked” to each other in my journal, negotiating ways to cope with therapy that would keep the “little girls” safe, not stress out TG, and keep me going.

    Basically, it was about control. Who was going to control me? TG wanted control because I had screwed up so much of my life. When I finally got tired of the misery and tried to straighten my life up, I caught a lot of grief from TG, for she kept reminding me of my failures. But with each healthy, successful action I took, she gained confidence in me and began to trust my ability to not screw up.

    When that trust was established, the little ones came to me one by one, little by little and told me their stories about Dad and his friends which they’d been trying to tell me for so long.

    I probably have gone on too long… But here’s the good news. If you can establish a safe life on the outside and a SAFE PLACE on the inside of your heart (mine’s a garden) where the little ones can play and be children while you do your adult life things, the protector will eventually be put out of a job. And then it will be time for her to tell you her story.

    You two will become the best of friends for you will have survived the worst things together and discovered you are okay. The past will really be over, and YOU WILL BE ONE.

    There is HOPE for it will get better. There is HOPE, I promise. 🙂

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