I have only had several birth re-livings in self-primal therapy, so I must confess that there is much about my birth which I have not yet experienced.
I know I was so squeezed in the birthing process that I
physically split in two; it was as if I'd suffered a paralysis in the left
hemisphere of the brain. It felt like you described, and my mother's
behavior in my childhood followed similar patterns. It was 'her way or
no way,' and I had to succumb to her will, feel humiliated and blocked
before she would give me what I needed from her. To begin with I was an accident as well.
My birth primals have revealed this much: When the contractions began I felt very excited and
vitalized. Her muscles massaged me from
top to bottom, and it felt like sparks were flying out of the soles of
my feet. The pressure was rhythmic and sensual and was inviting me to swim, push and kick, and I could move inch by inch, drilling my head further in the soft
fleshy wall. Then everything stopped for a mindnumbingly long time, and
eventually I was squeezed so tight that I could not respond at all.
The
pressure heightened until the right side of my body went totally limp,
and the left side of my body continued to push and attempt to get
ahead - to make progress in being born. Then, suddenly 'the thing' (my mother's birth canal) began moving again,
sucking me out, while helping me find the right rhythm, and the rest of my birth was
very easy. It was as if mother just pushed me out, but I felt way too
exhausted to enjoy it anymore.
I don't know why my birth went like it did; was it because of a bad
position mom was lying in, or was it something psychological? It just
felt like a big betrayal, a total stop with the message of, "You don't get
out before I tell you to." It felt hostile, but I cannot really say for
sure what was happening or what my mother was feeling.
I have had remarkable photographic flashbacks about what happened in the
room right after my birth. The most revealing part was seeing my mother's
face for the first time. I registered three facial expressions that
really tell the story of my struggles with the opposite sex ( I am
male ).
First, mom looked tired and unwanting. She didn't want me. When I was
given to her, she looked like a little girl who became hopeful that
this new baby could love her. She clearly expected me to respond to
her optimistic expression. When I apparently did not, her face turned
into an arrogant "I'm not loving you either" sort of bitterness, which
must have projected her disappointment in her own mother.
After these birth primals, when this insightful mystery unraveled, I was ready to go out and, once again, look for some
female company. My therapeutic process started when I
realized I was repeating a pattern with girlfriends. I always fell for
young women who looked like they thought they were better than anybody
else and had a generally snobbish facial expression. I would court them
and attempt to woo them, and if I was successful, I swung to the positive
polar of my split.
A few weeks or months later, when I realised the
girl had 'weaknesses', insecurities, complexes etc., I would swing to
the other end and simply loath her for disappointing me. I was not a
caring boyfriend after that realization. I was only interested in boosting my own self esteem by projecting my own insecurities onto the girls, hurting their feelings as I unconsciously trod along .
After I'd become aware of this pattern of mine, I stopped going steady or
getting serious with anyone. I tried a couple of dates during the
bulk of my self primaling, but the feelings always emerged. When I
finally saw that little cinema about my mother when I had been born and whom I was meeting her for the
first time, it gave me instant release from my act outs.
I had split in the birth canal, and
my mother's own split (not to mention other family members') helped to further
engrave and cement the split in me. The child I was had needed to
make a snobbish, insecure mother, into one who was loving and whole. This had become my primary mission in life. All my girlfriends after that had been sacrificed on
that altar, as I kept approaching the terrible let-down I had blocked from realization in my childhood: "Mother cannot love, she can only look strong or break into pieces."
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