A wordless encounter this week. A moment of reflection…
Just a woman on the metro with a book you think.
True, but…… the title of the book means “These kids sick of their parents”.
Here’s the synopsis of the book:
Without wanting it, without knowing it and in spite of us, our parents, our grandparents, our ancestors leave us as a heritage of the things they didn’t mourn, the traumas they didn’t “digest”, of their secrets. Early death, sexual abuse and other dramas: Insurmountable injuries leave their traces. They continue to exist and are transmitted.
Even when these things aren’t told, the body sometimes expresses them: It’s called somatization. The body of the child, the grand-child or the great grandchild, no matter what age, will become the language of the hurt ancestor, the “word” of the traumas.
Therefore it’s necessary to get the “skeletons out of the closet”, to analyze and treat the open wounds. To free yourself – finally – of the “cold” you carry inside.
I couldn’t quite read the look on her face and was left wondering; Is she one of “these kids” or is she a psychologist reading up for her work?