Apparently it is common for those with abusive childhoods to self-soothe with things that made them happy as a kid even when they become adults.
You guys should see the things I’ve reclaimed from my childhood. Not quite a collection, but still a real shrine of sorts. It always puzzled me why some of these things meant so much to me. I kind of thought it was my way of taking back what my mother stole. I still think that’s partially true, but I also think these things were escapes for me that still provide comfort when fear knocks on my door.
It also may be a form of regression. [here is an interesting, if overly scientific wordy, article on Security-Based Self-Representations that discusses attachment theory. It’s only ancillary to this post, but I thought it was interesting.]
There is a part of me that is wildly optimistic, innocent, curious and childlike. Given the negativity I was surrounded by, I’m not sure how I retained any of that. It’s as if I locked it up inside somewhere, which also may explain how my childlike enthusiasm can get me a bit into trouble at times. I’m no good at regulating it; it’s either on or off (or was dulled or heightened by alcohol in my drinking days — not such an effective coping mechanism). I’m all out trying to make things happen, attacking and researching every angle. I tend to think there are many ways to skin a cat, and I have trouble accepting when some things really can’t work out no matter what I try.
So I sometimes retreat and lick my wounds. And buy nostalgia on eBay.
At any rate, after posting about Superstar Ken and my Barbie’s bakery dreams, I had an urge to seek out the Play-Doh bakery set like the one my sister and I used. I’m sure they have one on eBay. But what I am thinking right now is: what am I afraid of in this moment that makes that purchase seem so appealing to me?
Food for thought.