People often visit a psychologist's office to “rest” their wounded soul. Soon, the “excavation” begins with therapist and client, like two archaeologists working hand in hand. Every time they discover life snapshots forgotten over the years and hidden among memories. For example, when the client was 9 years old and was punished by their mum for not eating food they didn't like. Another example: when they were one year old and she withheld her milk from them.
Other times, even older snapshots emerge… Snapshots that carry intense emotions, such as injustice, fear, terror and any other possible sensation that could “traumatically” protect the client from similar dangers that the future might bring. All snapshots share yet another common feature: they have left behind an unfinished communication looking for its completion. It is the “Go away, you're hurting me!” that the two-year-old little girl didn't say when her father pulled her by the hand at a time when she didn't want to go to sleep and he couldn't understand that it was her way of telling him: “Daddy, stay with me a little longer… I want you close to me…”. For as many years as the “Go away, you're hurting me” remains uncommunicated (either to the person it “belongs” to, or within the therapeutic process), the more it will seek other people to be heard by, friends, partners, etc.
That is what happened to Evangelia too. Something very tragic happened to her in the sixth tender year of her life. One day in the beautiful mountain village where she lived with her parents and her five siblings, her uncle and his wife came from Athens. They couldn't have children and came to take one. Just like that, as if they were going to a supermarket. All the children were on the shelf, they chose little Evangelia. Inside her, it felt as though a giant crane had grabbed the big, old plane tree in the village square and uprooted it. The tree had been there for a century, inspiring confidence that it would be there for just as many more—who would have believed anyone could uproot it? Much like the feeling Evangelia had about her parents. Six whole years by their side, believing they would be with her for a lifetime. Now, inside her tender little body, a void.
With Evangelia, we called it abandonment trauma and, at times, fear of abandonment. Evangelia found it hard to make friends, hard to get close to people. No matter how much she yearned for it, something “held” her back… it was her trauma… abandonment…
She reached around 30 and met her partner, a salesman. He was a heart of gold, but he travelled a lot—over half the year he was abroad. Consciously she didn't like this, and even asked him to stop. But an unconscious part of her told her: “here you go! this is your man, this is the right one! he'll come and go, you won't be able to get too close to him anyway, so if he leaves and abandons you, you won't be hurt too much… and if, after quite a bit of coming and going, you see that he's still there, with you, then perhaps you'll find the strength to truly connect with him. Perhaps he'll be the antidote to your abandonment”.
And so it happened. Her unconscious had made the best possible choice for her at that moment. She was able to start a family and move on with her life. Her partner passed the “test” and bathed the void of abandonment in steady love.
Did he heal; her? I cannot tell you. What I do know, however, is that in our relationship with our partner we seek those wounded aspects of relationships that we didn't feel as children. What is it therapy after all? Perhaps it is the experience of the relationship we sought from our parents as children and never had…