Written by Stu B

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Tuesday, 27 July 2004

image for Is Your Inner Child Sabotaging Your Brakes? Sometimes your inner child can be a pain in the ass!

By Katy Ramada
Niburian Counsellor

As a Niburian light worker on the ascension path, I’ve come to understand the need to make my Inner Child my partner. But I have struggled with having and understanding the role she plays and how to carry on a relationship with her. Part of my dilemma is that I’m not always aware of how she operates, nor the power that she wields in my life, what I do know is that she hogs the Remote control and likes Reese Witherspoon movies.

Through a very agonizing and frustrating event my eyes were opened!

The Power of an Inner Child
Until recently, I had a job that made me excited about going to work each day, I worked as a human guinea pig in a research facility which was working on ways to illicit states of excitement. Without warning my boss, also the owner, decided to close the facility which by definition, made me sad. This not only saddened me because I liked my boss and enjoyed my job, it frightened me as well. Intellectually I understood that I could find whatever job I desired, but due to the extremely tight job market in my area jobs were hard to come by.

I spent hours looking for jobs on the internet and in newspapers, and rewrote my resume about five times. But months went by and still no job. This was turning out to be the longest time I had ever been unemployed. It didn’t take long for my nonchalant attitude to crumble into a state of total panic, although I entered this state voluntarily as opposed to a professional basis.

The anxiety escalated, I started biting my nails non-stop, overeating and oversleeping, I would wake up in the afternoon to find a cake crumbs in the bed. In addition I became increasingly worried about money, I felt I was being stalked by a particular twenty dollar bill. I am sure I handed it over at the local Kmart for some more cake mix, but when I went to Ma Bakers Donut Shop and handed over a fifty for a super size “Bag'o'nuts” I could swear there was the same twenty back in my hand.

One day my mother unexpectedly turned into a table. Just prior to this she called to tell me of a new job opening with the City of Brisbane near where I lived. I was so excited and relieved because city jobs come with a good salary, benefits, greater job security and less obvious burn marks in my temples from the ECG's. If I got this job it would mean the end of my money problems as well as provide me some degree of job security. I couldn’t drive fast enough to pick up an application, due to the fact that my car was loaded down with empty KFC boxes. I polished up my latest resume, filled out the application, turned it in and waited for a response. A month later, I received a letter from the city’s human resources department informing me that I had been selected to take the pre-employment test for the position at their office the following Saturday, and that I should arrive dressed as a chicken.

The Saturday date arrived and I showed up to take the test, I had been unable to rent a chicken suit but I had thought laterally and had instead wrapped myself in 53 metres of Alcofoil. I sat in a room with the other testers feeling a little nervous, somewhat sweaty, but still confident that I would score well. The test booklets and answer sheets were handed out and instructions were given. There were 2 sections to the test. We were told to work on the first section, stop and listen to more instructions, then complete the last section of the test. The two sections were color-coded and we were not to go back to previous sections once time had run out. If anyone did return to the previous section they would be made to lay an egg. After the stop on the first section I reopened my book and continued working. Unbeknownst to me, I had gone back to the previous section. Even though it was clearly color-coded I didn’t realize I was in the wrong section until it was too late. Once I realized what I had done, I was shocked. I just sat there staring at the test, too numb to think. Then I realised I was sitting n such a way that the blood supply to my brain had been seriously cut off. I often used headstands as a calming measure especially before vigorous therapeutic vomiting

After the knowledge of what I had done had a chance to sink in, I knew I had to make a decision. Do I confess my error and get disqualified, or keep going? After all the instructor had not seen what I had done. I’m ashamed to say, I kept going. Finishing the test, I turned it in and drove home.

On the way home I ran into a tree, I hadn't seen it for ages and stopped for a chat. Apparently it had been in the same place for ages and every time I had passed it and not seen it. I guess I was just being more observant that night or something. Anyway, I bid farewell and left for home.

For two nights I did not sleep a wink. Each morning I got up tired and cranky, two lesser known dwarves who stayed with me when Snow White sent them to the city for supplies.

I was plagued with the guilt about my decision to cheat. I was stuck and torn about what to do. In my mind I knew that I needed to be honest because I knew from past experience that I wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt for very long. Still, the fear of losing that job was overwhelming. I knew that if I got it through dishonest means that I might fall back into the old addictive patterns that had nearly destroyed me in order to medicate the pain of my guilt and shame. But I just couldn’t bring myself to tell them. Each time I thought about it I would start crying uncontrollably and get the chills as waves of fear rushed through my body. In all my years, I had never experienced such emotional pain apart from when Henry Winkler Left Happy Days and it effectively became a show about Chachi.

Understanding the Power of Fear
Struggling to understand how I ended up in this mess and why my feelings about it were so strong, I went inward to talk with my Inner Child. I asked why she would confuse the colours in my mind so that I didn’t realize that I was working in the wrong section. She replied, “We need that job, otherwise it is back to the Psyche Ward for the dangerously paranoid schizophrenic!” That made sense to me but still the way we were getting it created just as big of a problem as the financial situation we were in. From the look on her face, I could see she didn’t understand that. That’s when I realized that what I had been told about the way the Inner Child works was true: they only live in the moment and when they take action it is only to solve the problem, in the moment. Sometimes that works out well but at other times, like in this case, it doesn’t. My Inner Child, in an effort to protect us, had unknowingly sabotaged the very thing we were trying to gain.

The more I talked with her the more I began to see that this was a recurring pattern in my life. Growing up in a family where emotional and physical security were hard to come by, but available in bulk from the local Costco or on QVC. I learned very early to manipulate my knees to get my needs met. And just like my Inner Child, I did not think about the consequences, only about what would satisfy me and eliminate the fear of the present situation. As I dug deeper into my childhood memories searching for the source of this behaviour, I found myself returning to a very traumatic memory.

At a very young age I realized that going to my father for emotional support was fruitless. He was not an orange tree. Each time he would shut me out. Finally, at age eleven I confronted him. He had started to drink again and was using drugs. My mom, unable to handle the abuse, had kicked him out of our home. My father was destroying our family with huge burning wads of cotton wool which he launched from a home made Trebuchet fixed to the back of his truck. Feeling desperate and lonely, I called him one night and expressed my feelings. I told him that I was scared, I wanted him back, I wanted my family back, I loved him, and I wanted him to do whatever it took to stop the rain of burning softness. In the middle of my emotional plea, he hung up on me. That was the last time I talked to him. He killed himself 3 days later. I was crushed beyond belief but not as much as he was by the collapsing wooden catapult flinging from it's inadequate tethering on the back of his 1989 Toyota. My whole world came crashing down around me and pain ran through my body for years to come, damn those shoes.

I quickly found that the best way to shut out the pain was through using drugs. Boxes of Serevent and Ibuprofen made opening the front door very difficult and the postmen gave up after a couple of weeks. After years of using and abusing myself and others, I ended up homeless. I lived on the streets and begged for money and food. It was humiliating and degrading, so instead I recited peoples tax returns to them in the style of current pop sensation Tiffany.

People use and abuse you when you are at your lowest point, and others judge you for the situation that you are in. People walk by you and won’t look at you at all. Others just sing along "I think I've amortised my loan now, There doesn’t seem to be any more interest to write down" You hold no value to anyone (including yourself). It’s like you don’t exist. If you don’t exist then you are Swedish.

Seven years ago I decided I had had enough and got off the drugs and cleaned up my life, Three years later I kicked my domestos habit and emerged blinking into a brighter world. From that point on having integrity and honesty were absolutely necessary to my survival, and I am eternally grateful to Bob Geldof for letting me adopt two of his daughters for that time.

Having discovered the source of this recurrent pattern I took another look at what had just occurred. I intellectually understood that I could find a job and that everything would be fine, but inside my inner child was terrified. She was feeling the pain and fear of being homeless again and was going to avoid going down that road at all costs. She remembers me bailing out of life when it got too painful by lassoing chipmunks for unscrupulous fur traders, though she feared homelessness she feared the pelts the most.

She did the only thing she knew to do; she used her survival skills by blinding me to make sure that I scored well on the test to get the job. She had to choose between facing the fear of my getting angry with her about blinding me or she could face the fear of dying again. She chose the lesser of the two evils. Seeing this from her perspective and understanding the event that conspired to create this dilemma, I could not blame her, so Instead I decided to murder prostitutes randomly across the eastern seaboard, striking fear into the hearts of those less fortunate than myself.

Knowing how I got into this mess enabled me to finally make a decision. I wrote a letter to the instructor informing her of my actions. Needless to say I didn’t get the job but what I did get was even greater- the knowing that my integrity was real and that I finally understood my Inner Child. Now I just had to find a way to ensure that I held onto both. The answer was Double sided sticky tape.

The Gift of Agreements
Going through multidimensional training I have acquired and learned many tools. One of these tools is using the power of agreements. Agreements work pretty badly for putting up shelves because they are really crap at drilling holes. I learned through experience that having agreements is the best way to ensure that situations like this don’t happen again, but that all my books would invariably fall hopelessly to the floor. One of my Inner Child’s fears in this situation was being abandoned by me. I realized that my Inner Child sees abandonment as things like working too many hours, numbing out and escaping reality by using Jerry Springer, emotionally shutting down and going into my intellect, and even being around unsafe people or places and not super sizing my McChicken Burger. My Inner Child and I have needed to make four major agreements around this issue:

1) My Inner Child agrees to let me know when there is a fear present. by exposing one of my breasts and gargling the theme tune to Charlie’s Angels I agree to listen to her feelings and fears and validate them.

2) My Inner Child agrees to tell me what would make her feel more comfortable when going through the fear, this normally involves plastic tools and triple a batteries.

3) I agree that after validating her fears and concerns, to ask, “What can I do to make it more comfortable for you.” And then to do whatever that is as long as it is in the realm of what I feel is okay. If not, I agree to find a reasonable compromise or the soul of virgin.

4) My Inner Child agrees not to do what would satisfy her to eliminate the fear of the present situation without discussing it with me first unless I am out at the time, in which case she will do it but feel really guilty afterwards.

With these agreements in place my life will run much smoother. I thank my Inner Child for bringing her fears to my attention in such an extreme manner. I am not angry with her for blinding me and interestingly enough she is not angry with me for telling the truth about the test, although she did cust of my feet. I am thrilled that a new page has been turned in our relationship and that we continue to grow together. If it had not been for the employment test incident I would not have taken the opportunity to look at an important and painful pattern that was born out of my father’s suicide and my homelessness. Knowing that I can use multidimensional tools for even the most painful lessons and get unbelievable results with them eases the anxiety that I have had about facing lessons. The greatest gift of all is now no longer having athletes foot and gaining more understanding of my Inner Child and myself.

In humble service,
Katy Ramada
Galactic Counsellor Apprentice

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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