In Inner Child work, there is a concept of Inner Protectors, basically defence mechanisms created during or following trauma to help a child deal with the event or events and to protect the child from future threats. Inner Protectors are often visualized and addressed as separate entities, and part of the recovery process involves “recruiting” Inner Protectors to support healthier coping strategies.
I need to discover any Inner Protectors that I may have, because I can’t recruit them if I don’t know them. Because of my current issues of binge eating when I feel vulnerable or when there is too much focus on my weight and appearance, I figured it was the best place to start looking for Protectors.
I found him. (And yes, “him” is the proper pronoun, even though I’m referring to an aspect of my own personality. It turns out there’s a very good reason for that. And though it may seem weird to you for me to refer to a part of myself this way, it really is simpler. And clearer. You’ll see).
In the moment of feeling that need to eat everything I could find, this time I asked why. And I was very surprised by the response I felt. “To hide you.” So a part of me is trying to protect me, in a crude and immature way. Like, “Quick, hide over here under this pile of blankets. They’ll never see you here!” It seemed juvenile. Then I realized it felt a bit like an immature older brother, and something clicked and I couldn’t stop smiling. It’s an older brother in my head, trying to stand up for me when I need to, but won’t.
So I told him I saw him, and I thanked him, as weird as that might seem, and all I felt was pure joy. And laughter. He’s got a hell of a sense of humour, though so immature (the part of me that giggles at fart jokes, I think).
Like years ago when I got so fed up with my young stepchildren talking with their mouths full of food, but I felt powerless to change the situation; in the middle of dinner, I blurted out, “This is you!” and started chewing a mouth full of food, opening my mouth as wide as I could between biting down, bits of food flying out of my mouth while babbling unintelligibly. Everyone stopped and stared at me. My husband later expressed great concern. And I couldn’t really tell him why I did it.
But now I know. It was my Protector, trying to stick up for me when I couldn’t. Or wouldn’t.
I’ve found him. I’ve accepted him. And appreciate him.
But then I started to wonder: why this sense of a teenage boy? I have an older brother, maybe I imagined it being like him. But my brother didn’t really do that. I can remember a few times I stood up for him, but not him for me. I wondered if I had some resentment about this, though I couldn’t find anything that felt remotely like resentment, maybe just sorrow that I wanted my brother to protect me, but he didn’t. So I created my Protector with the blueprint of what I wished my brother had been.
Then a realization broke me. It wasn’t fair for me to expect my brother to protect me from our father (or anyone or anything else). It wasn’t his job, his responsibility. He was no more likely to stand up for me than I was to stand up for myself. My father completely dominated all of us; my brother never stood a chance against him. All those years, I looked to my brother to rescue me, but it was absolutely unfair of me. It wasn’t his fault any more than it was my fault.
So that’s why this Protector is a teenage boy; he is what I wanted my brother to be, but he couldn’t. I also feel even more compassion for my brother now; I never resented him, just wished for something that could never be.
I have made peace with this Protector. I understand him and why he is here. And I appreciate all he has done to try to save me.
But now we need to work together, because how he is trying to protect me is also hurting me. I need his strength to work on standing up for myself in the moment, not hiding me. If his job is to protect me, I need to show him he doesn’t need to anymore, that I can stand up for myself.
That’s much easier said than done. Because in order to do that, I have to start respecting myself and my needs, setting boundaries and holding firm, and speaking up when I feel threatened.
Easy as pie. Lemon meringue pie. That takes hours to make, even more hours to cool, and then must be eaten within a few hours or it turns to mush. That kind of pie. Easy like that pie.