Something has been coming up in my talks about alternate handwriting that I’m finding intriguing. Several times people have said that their writing reminds them of an old woman’s writing. This has come at the beginning of my presentations, when I suggest that everyone write their full names with their alternate hand and then a little about how that made them feel.
Recently a middle-aged man said that it looked like his Polish grandmother’s writing. She had been forced to drop out of school in the third grade, so writing didn’t come easily for her. He remembered seeing her handwriting on her Christmas cards when he was a child. I noticed that when he continued with the writing session, he wrote in a tight column, although he had an 8.5X11 sheet of paper, as if he were writing a card. I quietly pointed this out to him and he looked at the writing and me in surprise. He hadn’t noticed.
The point I think is that alternate handwriting always connects us to childhood memories. Sometimes they take a while, sometimes they pop right up, but sooner or later we tap into our younger selves. It’s not unusual for memories from as young as 18 months to surface. The first time that happened I was dumbfounded and I confess doubtful. But my client went on to speak very clearly about what she saw and then how it helped her see her parent’s marriage in a new light. Although the memory was not a happy one, she was able to use it to understand events from her childhood that had been a mystery to her.
For myself, Little Betty — or LB, as she’s been nicknamed — is about five and a pretty happy little kid. She likes playing with her dolls and riding her bike (a 2-wheeler: she’s very proud of that). But here’s something that’s been happening lately: AH will refer to Little Betty and sometimes ask how she feels. And it always brings me up short and then into focus. I don’t want anyone messing with Little Betty. She’s an innocent child and needs protecting. And noticing that has stopped my inner critic cold in her tracks. Which is a good thing.
An example: I was preparing to make a presentation to a prestigious group, and I did a practice speech. My small preview audience insisted I needed to change about 85% of it. Upset with their response, I turned to AH, who asked what my true feeling was. My dominant hand wrote, ‘I can’t tell if it’s self-doubt or self-confidence! Combative is I think the feeling.’ yes, AH responded. judgment involved: mixed feelings about each. LB feeling hurt. how can she feel better?
This lead me to think about some simple, supportive tools and people I could turn to for help. As always, I felt better. Especially when AH went on to write, interesting conundrum! not the end of the world: a puzzle to be solved… let go for now.
Let go for now. Surely one of the most soothing of concepts. Whether it looks like a grandmother’s or a child’s handwriting, AH is the wise and compassionate distillation of all that’s within us.