The Ugly Duckling

I shredded all my scribblings from the practice sessions during class. I could have burnt them and derive higher satisfaction out of it, but that was too much logistics. 😀 It was very interesting, imagine 15 nights of intense findings on all the shitty childhood memories I badly misinterpreted (as a child.. tsk), ancestral stories that instilled some weirdass DNA beliefs (which would otherwise threaten our (their) survival), and some past life scary traumatic event that made me swear some stupid promises that I carried till today. This para may sound like I’m really pissed about it, but I’m not. In fact, I’m mighty pleased that they built me up to who I am today, and I’m superduper delighted that I can live without these now and can set them free!

I will just blog the cuter ones that I can recall, so we can all have a good laugh to start the year off. ❤

We have all heard of the story about The Ugly Duckling by Hans Christian Andersen, right? In my childhood, we were often read the stories in Mandarin, and then we would read the English ones on our own. In Chinese, the title is 丑小鸭变天鹅 – The Ugly Duckling (丑小鸭 chou xiao ya) Turned Into (变 bian) A Swan (天鹅 tian e). So clearcut, right??? Haha, but no, my super kiddo ego then only accepted/remembered the first part of the title – The Ugly Duckling. My entire family called me chou xiao ya, and teased me about that when we were read the story. When I say “entire family”, I am referring to the extended family I was living with! Goodness gracious me, I could see the image of my mom, my fourth aunt, fifth aunt, maternal uncles, cousins and sister, calling me that! Everyone just chanting, “chou xiao ya” while chasing after me (and me chasing after them in retaliation).

I remember that at a conscious level, because that was just normal in our childhood, alot of teasing, and alot of chasing around. I did not realise that at a subconscious level, that was trauma, and that was emotional abuse. Abuse may sound like a very strong word, but in this context, the strength of that memory really stuck in my mind and sucked every bit of esteem out of me. (Pray, thanks, I am reclaiming this back!) Sound ridiculous, right? Consciously, I always knew the moral of that story, but my subconscious took it so differently. Guess it didn’t help that I was called so many other names when I was little, they were meant to be endearing, but my subconscious obviously didn’t think so, and was immensely offended. I was also called 瘦皮猴 shou pi hou, which meant Skinny Monkey, and again, the label was applied by all the aunties and uncles on both the maternal and paternal sides. Mom used to tell (she meant to comfort) me that my aunts and uncles were so critical about me being so dark and skinny like a monkey, but The Ugly Duckling would one day turn to A Swan. My subconscious obviously has very selective thinking, and it only reinforced the fact that I am a shou pi hou and that I am a chou xiao ya, as agreed by the entire extended family and that is me – a dark skinny monkey who is an ugly duckling.

GOSH!!! Guess where the memories get stored?! Not just in the brain, not just in the mind. When the body has to deal with these pain, and it knows no better way of handling/managing it, it stores them in the body until one day we can deal with it. (Oh, do you know that our fats encapsulate these negative emotions to protect us?) Mine was stored either in the muscles or the nervous system, there were tonnes of weirdshits stored in my muscles which unfolded over those few days, so I cannot really remember whether this story was in the muscles or nervous system. I would have imagined it to be in the lymphatic system, but on the lymph day, I was working on more seriously offensive insults (from a child’s point of view) before I could get to this less offensive one. haha. It’s funny. I was seeing my childhood kampung (village) house so much these fifteen days, that it felt like I’m physically back there again. There were so many people staying together that it is no surprise that all sorts of weird criticisms and insults get stored when the adults were too busy to help us work through it. Then again, even when they do try to help us work through it, it does not mean that the subconscious mind of a child is able to interpret and store it in a positive manner.

Ah well, the moral of the story, I would say is to just live through childhood, be kind to your kids and to other kids, teach your kids to be kind to themselves and to other kids, and just live and let live. Sort the rest through when they get older. Either way, these experiences will teach us something, we definitely get to benefit / gain from it. I definitely did – it gave me a strong will, super powerful brains (because of that brain/beauty duality which .. oh man, I still have to work on that). It was really ironic too, because just before we worked on this, my practice partner remarked that I am so beautiful. ❤

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