I Forgot My Name

This sentence came up today from the silence of meditation. I wonder what it means

I thought at first it might be related to that old koan, Show me your Original Face, the face you had before your parents were born. Perhaps. Apparently that is about touching the Ground of Being, in other words being in the Presence, which has been the primary, central focus for me, what I keep circling around and returning to.

The first time I loved forever

Was when you whispered my name

and I knew at once you loved me

For the me of who I am

One’s Name is that central to one’s sense of being, isn’t it? It is then at the heart of the self. But is it the false self?

In the PT article The ‘False Self’ in a Filtered World’, the writer, Kaye, reminds us the false self is adaptive.

Initially described by British psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott, the “false self” is an adaptive psychological structure that emerges, primarily in childhood, as a response to nonattuned, misattuned, or selectively attuned parenting.

These forms of parenting vary in levels of parental connection to a child’s emotional needs.

• Caregivers failing to respond altogether (nonattunement)

• Caregivers responding in ways that are intrusive or mismatched (misattunement)

Caregivers only welcome or mirror a child’s emotional needs under certain conditions deemed appropriate (selective attunement)

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

I can certainly see how that worked, as between the ages of 1 and 3, I was both without my mother (nonattunement) and being cared for by my grandmother, herself the product of much intergenerational trauma (misattunement and selective attunement).

As a small child, finally with my mother again, I quickly learned only happy was acceptable. Like many of us at that time, I was punished for tears (“I’ll give you something to cry for!”). But I understand now. My mother was still quite young when I was born, and with the sole care of three children in an unfamiliar country, she must have been so very overwhelmed by the demands we constantly made on her time and energy. No wonder she defaulted to the settings instilled in her as she was brought up so harshly.

Photo by Arwan Sutanto on Unsplash

As a result, of course, I learned to be happy. To smile and laugh and try to make others around me happy. It was the purpose of my life, apparently, so I set to. The worse I felt, the harder I laughed. Where the disconnect really solidified was during my first marriage, where I felt that I had to work extremely hard to be accepted by someone who was profoundly threatened by me and unable to accept me. At the same time, I had three children of my own to bring up, and that went as well or as poorly as you might expect, under the circumstances. Desperately trying to do a better job of loving and accepting them than I was loved and accepted, while still struggling with my relationship with my mother and siblings.

They are not disingenuous; instead, they have learned to over-identify with the aspects of themselves that were celebrated or necessary, while suppressing parts deemed inconvenient or “too much.”

This discrepancy often leads to a feeling of emptiness, languishing, or quiet despair, despite the outward positive appearance perceived by others.

Photo by Allison Batley on Unsplash

Different organizational cultures will also reward roles such as “the reliable one” or a deep sense of urgency, in which emotional vulnerability can be perceived as a weakness. Thus, the “false self” can evolve into a protective inner dynamic that we may not consciously recognize as such.

Nineteen years ago, I had a successful career. I was president of an international franchisee association. I was having a peak choir moment singing the Messiah at the Notre Dame Cathedral in Montreal. My three children seemed to be doing well. I was deeply involved in my church, including my responsibilities helping chair the church board as Rector’s Warden.

I was just about to hit a wall and spend the next year in a profound depression, wondering what the purpose of my life was, having lost my church roles, my choir, and my sense of direction in my work and personal lives.

Photo by Somruthai Keawjan on Unsplash

While I ‘came back’ over the next two years, and ended up falling in love and relocating to a new city, the rollercoaster ride of emotional ups and downs continued as I tried to understand who I was and why things kept going terribly wrong when they felt so right initially.

With time, awareness, and support, it is possible to reconnect with parts of ourselves that yearn to be seen, heard, and somatically experienced. Turning towards suffering, instead of away from it, may lead to the re-scripting of roles we once assumed. This re-scripting refers to the compassion-focused process of changing the way we interact with ourselves and others, one step at a time, one crossed t at a time.

The article goes on to recommend paying attention to the personas, allowing oneself to be imperfect, making room for what the body feels, being compassionate toward oneself, and working with a therapist.

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I may return to therapy at some point. I’m certainly open to it. For now, my spiritual director is extremely helpful, and through that and the other wellness practices, I am gradually finding my way back to myself.

So, yes, I did forget my name, for a very long time. I forgot and remembered and forgot, and remembered. I went away from myself for days and weeks and months, even years.

But right now, I am paying attention to the personas, to my body, to my imperfections, to my needs. To my spirit.

To Spirit.

To Presence.

I live in hope of learning my Name.