#263 – What role do you feel trapped in?

Like any system, families have parts. In relationships, we refer to parts as "roles."

Some roles are "outer" (father, older sibling, cook, handy-person), and some are "inner" (caregiver, trouble-maker, peace-keeper). Internal roles take care of the emotional needs of the system.

When a necessary part is missing, a system can't function. When an inner role is needed, the system assigns it to whomever is available.

Although roles are sometimes forced on members who don't want them, they occupy them because the alternative – rejection – is scarier than lying to oneself. That's when the Ego and Ghosts start to shape our minds.

As a kid, I cried often. The first time I remember my father mocking me, I was three. I'm sitting on the floor in the family room in our Lisbon apartment, watching Lassie. The carpet feels harsh on my legs. Holding my babydoll, the corners of my mouth pull down, and my eyes fill up with water behind my little golden-rimmed glasses. There's pressure on my chest because Lassie must be cold with all that snow and wind.

Observing me from the door, my father, laughing, says "whenever the wind blows on TV, this girl starts to cry!"

Lesson learned: crying = bad.

At first it was difficult. But eventually, with determination and help from the Ghost of Misplaced Shame and the Ego, I did it: I could watch Sophie's Choice or The Jungle Book (when you think Baloo's dead, for example), and no drop of water would leave my eye.

I became the one with no needs. Hard as a stone, stoic, stolid. Nothing could break me.

Or so I thought. All this repressed emotion became anger, which I turned against myself. I kept pushing it down and away.

Until one day I decided I'd had enough and left the role behind. The Family didn't take it well: they resisted my "coming out." No! You're not supposed to cry! You're not supposed to have emotions, remember? Hard as a stone!

So, any time I'd visit, the role'd be waiting for me. In my own life, I could cry and be "stupid" with emotions. But as soon as I set foot in their home, I was to embody the pragmatic, cut-the-bullshit type.

Which I'm not. Because I'm imaginative (my Hogan profile says so). I'm perceptive, emotional, creative. A dreamer – not so much of a doer. A poet.

What role have you outgrown and are ready to leave behind to realize your True Self?

Love,

Carolina