That 70’s Red Shag Carpet
The Great Cover Up We Never Talked About
By Eve Reynolds
In my family of origin, love and good communication skills were not always modeled in a safe and healthy way. Sweet, idyllic moments of childhood were broken by sporadic and unpredictable reigns of terror. These traumatic incidents were glossed over and camouflaged the next day, like that area rug pulled over the indelible bloodstain on my parents’ tight white loop carpet.
The silences that followed each event left a crushing blanket of sadness over the house. Dad fled and mom shut down. We little ones coped on our own as best we could with the anguish and sorrow. We never learned the rudiments of responsible communication, oblivious as to why these things kept happening and powerless to make them stop. We all lacked the wise voice of a mature adult in the room who could hold space for us to do the deep listening, to provide a safe place to say what we needed to say and to stand strong for each other.
When dad finally moved out, mom replaced that old carpet with a thick red shag, so things wouldn’t show so easily. She never slept in the master bedroom after that, preferring the living room couch and the company of her martini glass and our massive Zenith console TV.
I learned to keep to myself and play by the rules, impatient for the day when I could embark on my own life and leave Woodland Hills far behind. That day finally arrived and I was over the moon. College turned into grad school, grad school gave way to exciting jobs, and the jobs led me to establish my own firm, following my own intuition and inner guidance.
Along the way, I fell into relationships with all kinds of colorful people and through each one, learned more about myself and the nature of interpersonal relations. I learned that the truth is indispensable. Pathological liars will drive you crazy. One needs both to love and to be loved in return or one will starve to death. I learned that a practicing alcoholic, indeed an addict of any type, is not a suitable partner. I learned that one person’s wound can trigger another person’s wound.
Far and away the most important lesson I learned was that deficiencies in early childhood attachment can and most definitely will torpedo relationships later in life if not recognized and addressed. Our souls require engagement with others to evolve, which means we need to feel all of the emotions, even when it is easier to cover the painful stain with a heavy piece of furniture. We ourselves need to become that adult in the room, the one who can do the deep listening and to stand strong for all of us.
