You know that doll idea that I talked about in my “12 Ways to Wait for Recovery” post? The object that was supposed to represent the scared little girl inside me, whom the more evolved and logical adult could console?
It’s not going so well.
My guardian angel, Ann, and I were supposed to go doll shopping during the Guardian Angel Reunion in Boston a few weeks ago. But we were having too much fun catching up with Kitty Dukasis’s psychiatrist at the pool.
Last week when I was with my sisters, trying to get centered, ending up very frustrated (by the slow dial-up access to you guys), my mom gave Katherine a beautiful doll that was on sale at DeClarke’s. She also bought one for my sister’s daughter, Natalie. But let’s just say Natalie didn’t like it (because she gets to go shopping often, very often). My sister has no anxiety inside Toys-R-Us like I do.
So I asked my mom if I could have it.

Perfect! A doll from my mom to represent the scared Therese, and one that matches Katherine’s. How special!
“What the hell is that?” Eric said, pointing to the bookshelf where Little Therese sat as we climbed into bed our first night back from vacation.
“Oh, that… She is Little Therese, who represents the scared and anxious child within me.”
“She’s freaking me out,” Eric explained. “Can’t we go to Toys-R-Us and get you a doll from the Disney Princess series? A nice Snow White or Sleeping Beauty or Belle? Belle in her yellow dress is perfect!
“Belle isn’t insecure. And she’s anorexic. With a D-cup chest.”
“That doll is freaky. That’s the freaky Therese. I’m scared to close my eyes.”
“Now you know how I feel most of the time, and why I need a doll to represent the fear.”
Thanks to my Beyond Blue readers, I know I’m not the only one who needs a doll.
Reader Anita wrote on the message board of my “12 Ways to Wait for Recovery” post that she, too, has a doll. And Blondie, who I met at BlogHer (she was the one who said I could sit with her at that first social event that had me wigged out) wrote this on the message board of my “Guardian Angel Reunion” post:

Shrinkydink [I love that!] and I often do visualization with my 6-year-old self and I talk to her. And when I’m all wrapped up in it and I can’t talk to her, I envision my neice and talk to her instead. The imagery of going back to our former selves to comfort is amazing.

Like me, Blondie had moments in her childhood that she was scared to death. My fears, as best as I can figure out as an adult, revolved around my parents’ divorce and my mom’s depression. Every time my mom left the house, I panicked, assuming that she was never coming back.
Blondie’s mom had cancer and as a young girl, Blondie was terrifying that she would die. She writes:

During an intense session about this subject and the fear it causes in my life today, Shrinky had me tell my little self that Mom lived. Mom lived and survived and is a happy, healthy now, over 20 years later. I had no idea at the time how much this would affect the way I think about things now. In my present life, I try to remember this—that she lived, and that I may look back in time somewhere off in the future and say, I lived through this. It helps me to not worry so much about current trying events.

Her words and what reader Jan wrote on the message board of my post, “Motherhood and Depression“—how her core issue with anxiety and depression was moving through the pain in her past—makes me think of that scene in “Finding Nemo” (I don’t read classics anymore; I just watch kid movies), when Marlin and Dory are inside the whale, and the whale is signaling it is time to exit to the Sidney harbor. Martin clings to the whale’s tongue, while Dory gets ready to follow the whale’s instructions.
“He says it’s time to let go,” Dory explains to Marlin (who doesn’t believe that she can speak “Whale”).
“But how do you know? … How do you know nothing bad is going to happen to you?”
“I don’t!” she says and releasing her grip on the tongue.
I think I’m still on the tongue a little bit. But maybe the doll whom Eric and I agree on can help me with that.