As The Id Goes Marching On

Many moons ago,

in the quiet,

or not so, depending on how old you were and if you had to do directly with the war or not,

times of peace, love, and all that,

we were busily exploring our souls.

God and Nietsche,

Religion and psychotherapy.

And here, a tip of the hat to all my friends,

almost all of whom who have,

at one time or other,

studied something to do with psychology.

(And who, one way or another, today still either work for a church,

or for some form of moral ideal)

We wanted to change the world,

starting with us.

For which we read Freud.

The id, the ego, and the super-ego.

The result of which is:

please excuse the drop in level here,

probably my inner child trying to get out,

the work of one of my favorite tv writers,

Stephen J Cannell,

who,

like Shakespeare,

explored the soul by adding more and more dimensions as he progressed,

Cannell is a hero of mine, because he wrote at least one page daily,

without fail,

and because  he wrote:

The Rockford Files,

a super-ego knight errant with two partners,

Riptide,

the story of three young men,

the id, the ego, and the superego,

The A-team,

the entire three-man controlling, acting out crew,

Freudianly speaking,

plus a wacko brilliant enough to understand how bad his situation really is,

and sane enough to recognize that you have to use humor

to get you to a place where they can’t get at you.

You get the picture.

Then others got into the race.

Friends:

three women, three men.

Sex and the city:

Freud, plus a fourth character,

Carrie,

the supposedly balanced mix of all three.

And, then, of course there is The Big Bang Theory.

Hmmm.

All characters constantly changing,

Four men,

two oedipul situation mothers,

no situation stable.

Flying without a net?

Or, using the Freud: the next generation child pictures:

Jung:

the injured child, the victim child, the superachieving child, the destructive child.

The necessary tricks for survival in a hostile world.

Our way of handling supreme hurt.

And, bingo,

we are

finally,

at today’s topic:

The inner child, the outer child:

Handling the bad,

but also, thank heavens,

the good memories within us.

The theory that many many writers understand,

because it also contains the concept that if you use what is good in you,

and your past,

you can eventually tamp down and overlay the bad.

One day at a time.

Which is, as many writers mention,

the basis for a lot of drug and alcohol recovery programs.

Not that I’ve had any contact, thank heavens.

I guess I always was

1. a musician
2. a “bird flies out of the egg” type- Hesse’s Damian, if you’re wondering, ie  “if I stop hoping I die” type-Goethe’s Faust.

The point being,

The inner child decides to act, or react, on a knee jerk level,

to bash everything bad away…

(yes, this is primitive, please keep in mind, I’m not a psychologist)

…Supported by the outer child, which acts out what the inner child needs.

And when the inner child is a destructive acting-out jerk,

it causes self-injuring behavior.

According to one theory I’ve read,

even to the point of waving a white “help me” flag by becoming ill…

help, I’m being smothered by my situation here, I’ll just get asthma so they see it,

or drink because I am insecure, they can’t miss that.

As I said, a theory.

Not necessarily mine.

So what is needed in this picture, is an adult.

Developed,

and watched over regularly,

by the individual involved.

To regulate things.

Smooth them out,

bring balance and harmony.

And heal the inner and outer child.

Which, if you’re still kicking dragons,

means one heck of a lot of self control and hard work.

Or,

on the other hand,

in the words of Melanie Safka,

“a steak’s a phallic symbol if it’s longer than it’s wide…glory, glory, psychotherapy.”

I think my id needs a cup of tea.

 

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