Stuffed animals, and other "childish" things helped me heal

When I started healing, I learned about my inner child.  Sexual abuse survivors learn to comfort, and nurture the child we were, when we were being abused.  I also suffered from DID... dissociative identity disorder.  My inner child, was also broken into multiple parts. The abuse I endured started at such a young age, I was unable to process it, and my mind fractured, or split, and held the trauma, of many horrific episodes of abuse.  I wasn't aware of them, my parts, and they were barely aware of each other, until a very gifted therapist recognized the problem, and started to help me crawl through the integration process.

I needed to help all the children, that were locked up in my mind, get through these episodes of abuse.  I started having panic attacks, and flashbacks... then I would experienced the body memories.  I would feel, what had happened to me.  When this would happen, I truly felt like I was a baby, or toddler, or young child.  I had several parts, they were me at different ages...  or held some specific overwhelming emotions, children are not equipped to deal with.  I needed to comfort and nurture these children in an age appropriate way.  

I not only had stuffed animals, I created a room for the child... these children... for me.  I painted a small bedroom lavender, and hung pictures of fairies, and flowers, and cute animals on the wall.  I had a daybed, and a reclining chair in the room.  I went there, when I could, when I was having a flashback.  I would curl up in the bed, and hug the stuffed animals.  I would hear the baby cry, I would see the look in their, the perpetrators, eyes... I would hear what they were saying... I could smell, I could feel... and I would hug that stuffed rabbit, or bear, or horse like my life depended on it.  When the flashback, or nightmare, or night terror, was over, I needed to comfort the child.  I would color in a coloring book, or because I loved school, when I was a child, I had several, age appropriate learning books, I could write in... the 5 year old might trace letters to learn how to spell easy words.  The 8 year old would do easy math problems.etc.  I had work books from preschool to the 6th grade, and would instinctively use the book, that would be geared to the age of the child I was.  I would watch age appropriate movies, or TV programs... cartoons, or Sesame Street... Mister Roger's neighborhood... thank-you PBS.  All the time hugging those stuffed animals.

My adult self, would be partially present, at different levels, and sometimes my adult self would feel foolish... but the child parts... the children who were harmed, NEEDED this.  I was so in touch with the child I was, my handwriting would be affected...it looked like the things I wrote were written by a child.  It felt good to hug those stuffed animals, I was comforted by them.  

I no longer need this room.  I have given most of the stuffed animals away.  The room is still lavender, and the fairy pictures are still there.  One day soon, I will take the pictures down, and paint the room a sunny or neutral color.  I have already replaced the daybed, with book cases, and the recliner with an expensive massage chair.  I have grown up:)  The parts of me that were shattered have come together, and I am okay.  I can still feel the different parts inside me, but they are integrated in me, and not separate.  I remember their experiences, though I no longer "feel" them.  I no longer feel terror... just a sadness, and regret, that things can't be different.  I needed those childish things.  I gave myself... the children I was, the tools necessary to come forward, and be heard.  I still have one of the bears, and two of the rabbits.  I may keep them forever... even after I am able to paint the room.  They are a reminder of how far I have come, and they got me through.