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I am Cookie Dough

We started re-reading the Hebrew Bible from the beginning last year in the bible study class at my synagogue. When I first joined the class, eight or nine years ago, they were already deep into the prophets (the really really boring prophets), so it’s been exciting to go back to Genesis, which is chock a block with crazy stories. And right away, with the stories about the creation of the world, I found something I’d never understood before: God doesn’t create the world in Genesis; God looks out at the chaos and begins to separate things out and name them: light from dark, land from sea, male from female. And I realized, that’s what I’ve been trying to do, within myself, since I started therapy so many years ago. I saw myself as chaos, and I started to separate things out and name them, in an effort to make sense of what was already there. I didn’t need to, or want to, create a new self in therapy, I just wanted to organize the self I already had.

            Many theorists have attempted to organize the self in general: like Freud’s Id, Ego, and Superego, or Erikson’s Stages of Development, or Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. There are theories that focus on the structure of the brain: with the reptilian brain running on instincts, and the limbic brain running on emotions and social behavior, and the rational brain/neocortex running on thoughts, language and reflection. And all of these general theories of the mind/self are attempts to acknowledge the multiplicity of the self, while also controlling it.

And yet, most of us don’t fit neatly into any of these paradigms; they are all imperfect and incomplete, and I needed to map out my own chaotic self, in my own way, in order to feel seen.

“I’m here! See me!”

            Mapping out the various aspects of the self is hard enough, but for a survivor of childhood abuse the process of recognizing the different parts of the self is complicated by the dissociation and fragmentation the mind uses to survive the abuse. Some survivors have thick amnestic walls between parts of the self, that in someone who has had no childhood trauma would be much more fluid, and some have endless slivers of self that can’t speak for themselves. Each abusive situation is different, and each survivor survives in his or her own unique way.

“I eat chicken.”

The paradigm of having multiple different parts of the self, without being limited to the ones named by the experts, has helped me to identify many different feelings and internal conflicts within myself, but the further along I get in the work, the more I see the parts blending and blurring at the edges, like sticky slices from a roll of cookie dough. Even after so many years of work, I still feel like there are parts of me that are left unclear or completely unseen, and I believe that my lack of ability to see them, or to tolerate them, is part of what keeps me stuck. It’s possible that I’ve got a handle on eighty percent of who I am, or fifty percent or forty. My best guess is that I’ve mapped out about sixty percent of who I am, and who I was, and what happened to me, and how I felt about it; but I don’t know how to get to the rest of it, and I don’t know if the rest is just blurry or still completely unknown.

            Part of the confusion is that it often feels like I’m starting from scratch each day, going through all of the same internal conflicts and trying to remember how I resolved them yesterday. Sometimes my memory for the work I’ve done in therapy is very clear, and sometimes I have to rely on my notes to remember that I went to the supermarket this morning, but mostly it’s somewhere in between.

“You did not take us out five minutes ago.”

            And yet, strangely, I’m a pretty consistent person in how I act, and in how I seem to other people. No matter how hard I have to fight with myself every day to resolve each internal argument, I tend to answer them all the same way I did yesterday. I exist as the same person every day, seemingly, but sometimes I see myself clearly and sometimes I see myself through a distorted mirror.

There are times when my memories are so richly detailed that I can figure out what time of year something happened, and how I felt, and how the people around me looked and sounded, and I can even remember the furniture in the room; and then there are times when those same memories are trapped behind a thick veil and I’m squinting to make out who’s who or why the memory is even important.

            The study of psychology, is, like me, still cookie dough. We are very early in our understanding of the brain, and in our understanding of how the anatomy of the brain and our life experiences create our individual senses of self. We cannot fully map our brains, yet.

Now that the bible class is (finally) moving from Genesis into Exodus, I’m wondering what new things I will discover, both about ancient ideas of God, and even more important, ancient ideas about people and how they acted, and why. And maybe going through the Exodus from Egypt again, but more slowly than we do it at the Passover Seder, I’ll find more details and clarity in the chaos than I’ve found before. Maybe that’s just how it is: understanding comes with repetition, and with a willingness to look at the same book or the same self over and over again from different perspectives, so that the picture gradually becomes clearer, though maybe never complete.

“You can study me, Mommy!”

If you haven’t had a chance yet, please check out my Young Adult novel, Yeshiva Girl, on Amazon. And if you feel called to write a review of the book, on Amazon, or anywhere else, I’d be honored.

            Yeshiva Girl is about a Jewish teenager on Long Island, named Isabel, though her father calls her Jezebel. Her father has been accused of inappropriate sexual behavior with one of his students, which he denies, but Izzy implicitly believes it’s true. As a result of his problems, her father sends her to a co-ed Orthodox yeshiva for tenth grade, out of the blue, and Izzy and her mother can’t figure out how to prevent it. At Yeshiva, though, Izzy finds that religious people are much more complicated than she had expected. Some, like her father, may use religion as a place to hide, but others search for and find comfort, and community, and even enlightenment. The question is, what will Izzy find?

About rachelmankowitz

I am a fiction writer, a writing coach, and an obsessive chronicler of my dogs' lives.

37 responses »

  1. I love Genesis. It contains a host of life lessons. Joseph’s capacity by God’s grace to forgive all his brothers to me is the most profound act in the book.

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  2. I eagerly await your reflections regarding Exodus. In my mind, Exodus is an enigma. The Methodist Sunday School teachers never tied together the loose ends to my satisfaction. Meantime, Genesis was discussed extensively. In hindsight, the book’s writings read like anthropology of sorts.

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    • So much happens in Exodus! Passover is coming up in two weeks and it’s a whole holiday to celebrate the exodus. If you try, you can learn everything you need to know through the food at the Seder.

      Reply
  3. Pingback: I am Cookie Dough | Jahraqian Kingdom

  4. There is a beautiful snippet of a verse found in one of the minor prophets that came to mind as I finished your post- “… when I sit in darkness, the Lord will be my light.” Micah 7:8b. I agree with swabby429. I too am eager to hear your reflections on Exodus.

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  5. You are so correct about difficult memories sometimes being clear and sometimes muddied. I tend to believe that our hold on maintaining equilibrium guides our daily ability to see our past. Sometimes we can handle it and sometimes we can’t. Good for you for working on finding your truth.

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  6. Having experienced extensive trauma in my childhood and early adulthood, I can really relate to what you have written here. Every day, for the past three and a half years, I have been writing the story of my life. Slowly, just a few sentences at a time. I don’t know if I will ever finish my story and turn it into a memoir. But I am amazed at the insights I have gained through my daily writing. It’s hard, but it is also healing.

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  7. Your dogs have the right idea, Rachel. You just listen to them, cuddle them, and they will keep you on track. You’re doing fine.

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  8. The brain is a fascinating thing!

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  9. After many years I read through Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, and Deuteronomy again. It was good to reacquaint myself with those stories.

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  10. I learned a lot from reading this. To continue your metaphor of cookie dough, though, you need to add heat before the recipe is complete. I got that from Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones, but she was talking about writing not psychology.

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  11. Rachel, this is a very interesting perspective. I enjoyed reading your middle paragraphs about feeling you need to re-resolve things from yesterday, but recognize that you are consistent in how you address those issues. That consistency gives you the needed foundation. My wife and I recognize the older we have gotten, the memory sometimes plays tricks on us, “did I tell you that…” is a common lead in. Or, on occasion, “did I dream this or did you tell me….” Thanks again for sharing this. Now, what kind of cookie dough are we talking about? Keith

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  12. I think I already mentioned these, but I will again–Janina Fisher and RIchard Schwartz. Both are very helpful at distinguishing the parts and Schwartz in particular separates them by types. There are, as I have written before, no bad parts, but sometimes parts have bad jobs assigned to them and are burdened, unable to thrive. For instance a joyful child part may be hampered with fear. Peace to all of you!

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  13. Loved this post! Thanks for your transparency. I feel I can relate to much of this. I’m reading/listening to the Bible in 90 days (just over half way). It’s been interesting to see things from a different perspective when reading through at a quicker pace- seeing the grander picture. Keep up the writing, and God bless in your therapy and healing!

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  14. One of the things I enjoy about this post is its title. You make Cookie Dough sound like it could be your codename especially if you’re a character or specialist in a movie (like Rihanna’s Nine Ball in “Ocean’s Eight” and like Mary Elizabeth Winstead’s Huntress in “Birds of Prey…” ), and your doing that is fully fabulous 🙂

    Reply
  15. What a wonderful self-realization! And I can completely identify with it. (And was very impressed with your knowledge of these earlier psychiatric theories.)

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  16. I’ve finally had a chance to catch up with your last several posts and must say how much I respect your journey of emotional healing and deepening faith. Your courage to grapple with very real struggles and share them honestly gives me hope in areas I also struggle. I especially loved this perspective on “creation” and how God sorted solid things out of chaos … only, you said it so much better! I always read your posts anticipating what nuggets of useful truth I will find next and am never disappointed.

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  17. Thank you for the account. I am sorry to learn of childhood abuse. It is so traumatic. May you find solace in your bible studies. Be well.

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  18. You might have some idea how much i resonated with this piece. I appreciate this one very much. The way my brain works can be so isolating, and this helps me not feel so alone. Thank you.

    Reply

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