It turns out I am really only three years old inside.

How can it be it that no matter how competent, adult, removed from the childhood home, and successful we are in our lives – that family conflict turns us back into an abandoned three-year old? That differential sibling treatment thirty years ago still matters?  That even our most rational minds are over-ridden by feelings of inadequacy and the impotent anger of a child?

Such are the intense characteristics of a particular drama unfolding in my family right now.  And I’m reminded that no matter how much I think I’ve got control over my emotional life, there are certain kinds of family conflicts that completely undo that mastery of myself. Reminding me of course that I’ve still got a lot of work to do!

And so I’m setting an intention here: As hard as it might be, I’m going to make my focus compassion for the next few days and see if that helps me to calm down any. Compassion for everyone involved, including myself – which is so hard because I’d much rather hang onto this self-justifying anger than let it go….. But I know in the long run what the right option is.

One Comment on “It turns out I am really only three years old inside.

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