I have read when children are being abused they sometimes "detach" themselves. It makes it easier to endure the pain of whatever type of abuse they are undergoing.
For some this can be the way out and into a healthy future, but for others it can be emotionally destructive as multiple personality disorder, schizophrenia or other mental illnesses can result.
I do not remember my childhood.
Most of what I know comes from "stories" my much older sister and brother used to tell me, some comes from gut feelings or visions I have encountered through meditation.
During a hypnotherapy session several years ago, meant to get to the root of several of my problems, some things clearly indicated that I underwent such a detachment at age 4 and 5. I had been asked to imagine myself descending a staircase with 21 steps. Each step represented a year in my life. At each step there was a door I had to open and I was to see memories inside that door from that year of my life. At age five, when I opened the door, I immediately found myself immersed in water. I did not feel the panic of drowning nor did I feel threatened in any way. I simply felt very safe and warm and comfortable.
When I opened the door at step number four, I was attacked by monsters. Even though the hypnotherapist encouraged me to know that these monsters could no longer hurt me and that I could face them, I absolutely refused to confront them about their right to exist. I slammed the door and refused to open it again.
Then I seemed to go down a slide and fell into a forest. It was beautiful and serene. In it I encountered a girl, about 16 and very playful. She appeared to be floating through the woods. She identified herself as "Ezra". (I know Ezra is a male name in the Bible, but my Ezra is definitely a female).
The hypnotherapist explained the water incident as my escape from reality and the monsters were the abuse I went through that was so traumatic to my mind, that I refused to remember it.
From my sister I knew that at that age my mother out of the blue packed up our belongings and moved. My dad left us around that time. My mother allegedly brought home many different boyfriends. So one speculation is that one of them might have hurt me and rather than face it and help me survive emotionally my mother chose to run away and left my confused feelings unresolved.
I was unable to confront my mother about this and my brother and sister were out of the house by that time, so they had no clue.
I still have some speculations as to who Ezra is. I often refer to her as "my inner child". Sometimes I think she is the essence of my soul. Sometimes I believe that she is my guardian angel or my guide. At other times I think I might have been her in a past life. She may also very well be the person into whose existence I escaped into when I felt the need to detach myself.
Several months ago I went to a day long workshop to re-energize my soul. There was a lot of meditation and chakra work involved. At the beginning I doodled on a sheet of paper "Ezra, this is the place!!! Talk to me, I have not heard from you in a while!" She appeared briefly during the first meditation, waved, said hi and disappeared. I silently yelled "Wait! Don't leave me again!" And from a distance she replied "I'm not the one you want to see today! Someone else is waiting for you!"
Later in the day, we were guided into a temple during a visualization and we were encouraged to go up to the light and see who was there. I asked "Jesus? Is that You?" But guess what! It was my daddy. He was sending two year old me off into a room full of people and daddy was cheering me on "They're gonna just love you! They're gonna think you are so adorable!" I remember skipping down the hallway to the ballroom, affirming daddy's words over and over again.
On the day of this workshop I realized that this day almost forty years ago, was my personal judgment day. I was an illegitimate child, a big no-no in those days. My mother had managed to hide my existence from almost everybody in the town and family. But on this day, a huge Catholic wedding, her sister's daughter's wedding, my mom (or was it my dad?) chose to announce me to the whole world. I must have failed... I felt like a failure ever since. But on the day of the workshop my daddy reminded me that it didn't matter, because he always loved me. I went home feeling healthier in my soul.
The amazing thing to me is that even though my mother abused me by leaving me feeling unwanted ("You were an accident"), unloved (I got a daily dose of "Your father is a bastard and you are just like him!") and unimportant (not helping me deal with the sexual abuse...) I managed to forgive her.
My memories begin at about age 15 and they are mostly about nasty fights between my mother and I.
I chose to focus on the one good memory I have. It may sound trivial to a bystander, but to me it is important, because it creates a positive image of my mother and my childhood.
Every Saturday night we would put a chicken into a claypot and bake it in the oven. It was always meant for Sunday dinner. And every Saturday night about midnight we would both be standing in the kitchen in our jammies and robes and pick at the chicken. Every Sunday we ended up with meager leftovers...
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