When I was 6 years old, I got hurt on a see-saw. The person on the other side suddenly decided to get off. They jumped off in mid air, sending me crashing to the ground very hard.
The shock sent nerve pain streaming from my bottom all the way up my spine. I never got on a see-saw again. I did not let my kids get on them at the park. I simply fear them.
When I was 9 years old, I smashed my finger in a nutcracker. You know the ones… they look like a wooden doll that is a man with a white beard and a red jacket. Yeah, those things. I was playing with it because I thought it was a toy.
I ended up getting my finger smashed and it was extremely painful. To this day, I hate the sight of those things. I won’t let my kids even touch them in the store. I don’t even like regular nut crackers. I buy the nuts in the can that are ready to eat.
When I was 12 years old, I stepped on a tack. It got stuck in the heal of my foot. It was so stuck that it did not come out, even when I lifted my foot, jiggled it or yelled. (yeah, that one was a long shot…)
So I had to pry the stupid thing out of my poor foot by myself.
Ever since then I have not liked tacks. I don’t like bulletin boards that require tacks. When I am someplace that has a bulletin board, I immediately start looking on the floor for tacks. I have never allowed my kids to have bulletin boards in their rooms , even when they asked me for one.
These were physical pains. The memory of the pain is triggered by the offending objects. (ok that was a little dramatic… LOL).
By now you must be thinking “For God Sake that poor clutsy girl. It is amazing she survived to be an adult.
Yes, it probably is!
My father always says he did not think I would survive to be 2 years old because of all the furniture I ran my poor head into. He had to pad every corner, including but not limited to the handle on the kitchen fridge.
So, is this an article about my traumatic childhood. A memoir of how I was abused by inanimate objects? No, but let’s suffice to say it is still an ongoing problem for me. The battle with inanimate objects, that is.
No. This post is about the fears we carry and pass down to our children without really meaning to. Are my children deathly afraid of tacks, nutcrackers and see-saws? No, they actually think I am a little crazy about those things.
But if we carry fear with us about those things, imagine what fears we carry inside about mental and emotional harm that we incurred. It makes you wonder what fears we are passing down to our kids that we are not even aware of.
Not only that, what fears were passed onto us? How many generations can they go down?
Just a thought to ponder.