This post is for people who have realized that beyond the catalog of "incidents" and gory details of their childhood trauma, what matters most is the lack, lack, lack of love and normal parental concern that was an abyss you were perpetually falling deeper into. I have been struggling with PTSD for about a year and a half now, and this has been the most important realization that has come on my journey into the buried past. The ravages of lack hide in plain sight for years, decades, as you look for the problem everywhere else. (And they are bizarrely varied and many. I read that incessant chatter is a symptom of attachment disorder, and remembered my brother who would never, ever, ever shut up - you had to beg him. Poor kid.) And further benighting you and assuring you never know you're missing anything, their own blank-eyed indifference: Everything is fine. You're getting just what you deserve, perhaps more, certainly no less.
This is what trauma therapists talk about when they talk about being resourced when trauma occurs to prevent it becoming PTSD. Resourced people with the foundation of a loving, stable upbringing are trampolines; an impact will cause a depression, but they level out again in due time. The unresourced are wet paper towels stretched out; it doesn't take much to tear clean through us. I believe that's why memories of small incidents from my past practically debilitate me with misery and shame. It's not the mistake of a basically worthy and redeemable human. It's a smoking gun proving once and for all that I don't deserve love and never did. "See, I told you you were sh*t--and here's the smoking gun!"
I am trying to retrace the process that began with the lack and neglect and led to my present dread of never being good enough; specifically, good enough for the people who tell me in no uncertain terms that I will never be good enough--it has to be them. I don't remember when the mad scramble started. It must have been so long ago when I decided I had to gather proof that I'm good enough for love. One early scheme was being good at something; maybe homework. Mom showed zero interest when I showed her though. Mom is God when you're 11. If it wasn't important to her, it must not be important to anyone. Scratch that. Adolescence. Hide out in a world of fantasy where I'm always good enough. But I come back to real life, and I'm a pariah with no friends and my parents don't even notice. Young adulthood. Dating. If I perfect my physical appearance down to my cuticles, that will be the thing I need to be good enough. The narcissists and sociopaths I attracted disagreed. To this day, the endless scavenging continues. I achieve something professionally--am I good enough now? I finish a challenging novel--that's smart right? Am I good enough now? If I buy those boots or get that haircut or go to this trendy restaurant--will I be good enough then?
Why is the answer always, "No?"
It seems I am in a never ending screaming match with my parents and all the dismissive, abusive stand-ins for them that live in my head where I'm endlessly screaming, "Am I good enough now?!" and they're screaming back, "No!" The more resolute they are, the more I need to turn them around; the stronger I come back bringing more evidence to the trial. Sometimes I think I've secured it...and then it slips away. The "No" always returns even after I've done something I didn't think I could do just months before. The people who have liked me don't seem important--their opinions aren't valid. If I hear, "Yes, you're good enough," then I'm talking to the wrong person. I need the love of someone perpetually saying, "No." Once they say, "Yes," they're no longer the person I need to hear it from.
I'm nailed between an immovable object and an irresistible force. Does anyone know how I can squeeze out?
This is what trauma therapists talk about when they talk about being resourced when trauma occurs to prevent it becoming PTSD. Resourced people with the foundation of a loving, stable upbringing are trampolines; an impact will cause a depression, but they level out again in due time. The unresourced are wet paper towels stretched out; it doesn't take much to tear clean through us. I believe that's why memories of small incidents from my past practically debilitate me with misery and shame. It's not the mistake of a basically worthy and redeemable human. It's a smoking gun proving once and for all that I don't deserve love and never did. "See, I told you you were sh*t--and here's the smoking gun!"
I am trying to retrace the process that began with the lack and neglect and led to my present dread of never being good enough; specifically, good enough for the people who tell me in no uncertain terms that I will never be good enough--it has to be them. I don't remember when the mad scramble started. It must have been so long ago when I decided I had to gather proof that I'm good enough for love. One early scheme was being good at something; maybe homework. Mom showed zero interest when I showed her though. Mom is God when you're 11. If it wasn't important to her, it must not be important to anyone. Scratch that. Adolescence. Hide out in a world of fantasy where I'm always good enough. But I come back to real life, and I'm a pariah with no friends and my parents don't even notice. Young adulthood. Dating. If I perfect my physical appearance down to my cuticles, that will be the thing I need to be good enough. The narcissists and sociopaths I attracted disagreed. To this day, the endless scavenging continues. I achieve something professionally--am I good enough now? I finish a challenging novel--that's smart right? Am I good enough now? If I buy those boots or get that haircut or go to this trendy restaurant--will I be good enough then?
Why is the answer always, "No?"
It seems I am in a never ending screaming match with my parents and all the dismissive, abusive stand-ins for them that live in my head where I'm endlessly screaming, "Am I good enough now?!" and they're screaming back, "No!" The more resolute they are, the more I need to turn them around; the stronger I come back bringing more evidence to the trial. Sometimes I think I've secured it...and then it slips away. The "No" always returns even after I've done something I didn't think I could do just months before. The people who have liked me don't seem important--their opinions aren't valid. If I hear, "Yes, you're good enough," then I'm talking to the wrong person. I need the love of someone perpetually saying, "No." Once they say, "Yes," they're no longer the person I need to hear it from.
I'm nailed between an immovable object and an irresistible force. Does anyone know how I can squeeze out?
