Reprocessing old memories and having a sabbath year

 "You were a hard baby. You cried and cried and cried for hours. No matter what we did. Maybe your tummy hurt. Mom thought you just didn't like her. I could get you to be quiet though. I held you on the other side so maybe that helped some gas move better or something.

"One night, we were playing cards after putting you girls down to bed and I was losing. Badly. I said, 'I'm going to go get my Rachey Baby. She'll make me feel better!' Since you were such a hard baby to put to sleep, your mom wasn't very happy, but I went and got you anyway!'"

I loved this story.
I felt wanted. Needed. Comforted. Safe.

It popped up into my conscious memory during an EMDR session on the target thought, "My needs are too big to handle." I thought it popped up because it was an example of my dad meeting my need to be wanted, safe, and to belong. But my therapist had another interpretation.

She pointed out that in this story, my dad was using me to meet his needs. "He was frustrated or disappointed and he used you to cheer himself up. Your role has been meeting other people's needs since you were a baby! It's supposed to be the other way around." 

I cried.
It all felt too heavy.
Too hard.
Too unfair.

That baby part of me wants a do-over. I want to be swaddled up and cooed at and rocked and held and played with and cherished (all the time, not just when they're down on their luck). I want someone to examine my diet and figure out what's hurting my belly and what I'm allergic to. I want my sleep to be protected.

I want to be comforted and my emotional needs to be met.

As a baby, my tears were too much for my parents. I learned quickly not to have needs, only to meet others'. I am still functioning in this way. Look at me: leading the care team at church, volunteering with an organization that allows me to care for unaccompanied immigrant minors, while also caring for my own 4 kids and being unable to express my needs to my husband. 

I'm tired of it all. I need a break.

That's what this year is: a sabbath
A break in homeschooling. A break from deacon work. A break from volunteering. Empty time to myself with no expectation of filling it. Assurance that I don't have to make money or cross of to-dos to have worth. Quietness to listen to what my needs are.

If I'm honest, that feels threatening at best and downright sinful at worst. But I think my brain is just picking up on the fact that it's out of the ordinary for me.