I could come up with a million and one reasons why I haven't sat at this keyboard for almost a month.
But as I contemplate them, one thing comes to mind:
I haven't felt like being seen or heard.
Shortly after my last post, my mom and dad went into ICUs at different hospitals at the same time.
It has sucked out my energy, my creativity, and my engagement quota.
I have wanted to hide and avoid any and everything possible.
I have felt overwhelmed and sinking.
I've still had work and a five-year-old and a household.
I haven't felt relaxed, well-rested, or excited in weeks.
And even though the worst was mostly over after the first week or so, the ripple effect is still jarring me.
Things I had prioritized before this shift still feel undone- weighing and waiting on me.
I'm in mourning, seemingly, for a routine and energy that seem to have slipped through my fingers.
My dad had a stroke in the back of his brain. He actually has come out of it pretty darn well, considering, but it is going to mean more time and involvement in his life for me.
My mom had irregular heart rhythms, verging on v-tach. That has been resolved and her heart is better than before, but now her mental health is back to being very unstable.
My mom has had just about every "negative" diagnosis under the sun: schizophrenia, bi-polar, manic depressive, anxiety disorder, depression, and now, in her later years, dementia.
She's had such a long run of being stable this time, though, that it seems to have spoiled me.
Dealing with this is always hard for me. It's often hard to tell how much of her behavior is her illness and how much is her personality.
And the negativity of it tugs on me and pulls me under with it if I'm not prepared.
See, I have no comforting memories of my mother.
My whole life, the feelings that have surrounded my relationship to her have been things like:
Guilt
Pity
Shame
Anger
Helplessness
Sadness
Crazy
What little bit of stability there has ever been has always been short-lived. And even in those times, she wasn't living with me or raising me.
Often, when I'm anxious, I will play scenarios that have either gone "wrong" or have potential to go "wrong" over and over in my head.
And it seems to happen automatically.
I'll envision the scenario with me explaining all the things that I might have said to make it go better, or how I'd like to say them should this worst-case confrontation play out.
It's as if some part of me thinks that if I can get it right in my head, all will not be lost.
That I'll have some kind of control over it.
So on my way to work one morning, having one of those anxious conversations in my head,
I stopped and thought:
"I'm doing it again. Why am I always so anxious about upsetting people, anyway?"
And while it isn't necessarily abnormal to be anxious about upsetting someone, it can sometimes totally change my behavior and disrupt my mental health.
Then a thought came to me that I have never, ever thought before:
"You're afraid that if you upset someone, you'll never be forgiven for it. You're afraid it's the end."
Ok. I get that. But why?
And then I realized, thinking back to my childhood,
to memories of the people in my life- and most specifically, my mom-
that because of her outbursts, and irrational anger, and the way it was projected onto me,
I had been in tons of scenarios where I felt I had upset her.
And not one of those scenarios ever had a resolution.
No talking about it afterwords. No apology or explanation.
Nothing.
Looking back, I can now see these scenarios had nothing to do with me whatsoever.
But I internalized that I was to be guilty and blamed for many things not even regarding me, and that I was not to be forgiven for them.
I internalized it as emotional trauma.
I've never looked at her and thought "You've never forgiven me."
But when these things popped into my head, it made sense.
It explains that crippling anxiety of upsetting people.
It explains why, when I'm depleted and upset, I go straight to guilt.
It explains why I find reasons in my head for people not to like me, and then worry over the reality of it.
It explains why I have a hard time with self-trust.
🔼
⥈
🔽
But it also explains why I'm so empathetic.
Why I root for the underdog.
Why I crave connection and communication.
Why I want to see the best in people.
Why I believe, when someone is showing their worst self, that underneath all of that is pain and not evil.
It's why I always want to give people the benefit of the doubt.
It's why I want to deconstruct a person's worst behaviors to see the scenarios that led them to this state instead of condemning them for it.
And it's why I want to be part of the solution by offering understanding and love and permission to others.
🔼
⥈
🔽
So, while these traumas sometimes feel like my life-long sorrows
it isn't lost on me that they can also be my superpower.
But as I contemplate them, one thing comes to mind:
I haven't felt like being seen or heard.
Shortly after my last post, my mom and dad went into ICUs at different hospitals at the same time.
It has sucked out my energy, my creativity, and my engagement quota.
I have wanted to hide and avoid any and everything possible.
I have felt overwhelmed and sinking.
I've still had work and a five-year-old and a household.
I haven't felt relaxed, well-rested, or excited in weeks.
And even though the worst was mostly over after the first week or so, the ripple effect is still jarring me.
Things I had prioritized before this shift still feel undone- weighing and waiting on me.
I'm in mourning, seemingly, for a routine and energy that seem to have slipped through my fingers.
My dad had a stroke in the back of his brain. He actually has come out of it pretty darn well, considering, but it is going to mean more time and involvement in his life for me.
My mom had irregular heart rhythms, verging on v-tach. That has been resolved and her heart is better than before, but now her mental health is back to being very unstable.
My mom has had just about every "negative" diagnosis under the sun: schizophrenia, bi-polar, manic depressive, anxiety disorder, depression, and now, in her later years, dementia.
She's had such a long run of being stable this time, though, that it seems to have spoiled me.
Dealing with this is always hard for me. It's often hard to tell how much of her behavior is her illness and how much is her personality.
And the negativity of it tugs on me and pulls me under with it if I'm not prepared.
See, I have no comforting memories of my mother.
My whole life, the feelings that have surrounded my relationship to her have been things like:
Guilt
Pity
Shame
Anger
Helplessness
Sadness
Crazy
What little bit of stability there has ever been has always been short-lived. And even in those times, she wasn't living with me or raising me.
Often, when I'm anxious, I will play scenarios that have either gone "wrong" or have potential to go "wrong" over and over in my head.
And it seems to happen automatically.
I'll envision the scenario with me explaining all the things that I might have said to make it go better, or how I'd like to say them should this worst-case confrontation play out.
It's as if some part of me thinks that if I can get it right in my head, all will not be lost.
That I'll have some kind of control over it.
So on my way to work one morning, having one of those anxious conversations in my head,
I stopped and thought:
"I'm doing it again. Why am I always so anxious about upsetting people, anyway?"
And while it isn't necessarily abnormal to be anxious about upsetting someone, it can sometimes totally change my behavior and disrupt my mental health.
Then a thought came to me that I have never, ever thought before:
"You're afraid that if you upset someone, you'll never be forgiven for it. You're afraid it's the end."
Ok. I get that. But why?
And then I realized, thinking back to my childhood,
to memories of the people in my life- and most specifically, my mom-
that because of her outbursts, and irrational anger, and the way it was projected onto me,
I had been in tons of scenarios where I felt I had upset her.
And not one of those scenarios ever had a resolution.
No talking about it afterwords. No apology or explanation.
Nothing.
Looking back, I can now see these scenarios had nothing to do with me whatsoever.
But I internalized that I was to be guilty and blamed for many things not even regarding me, and that I was not to be forgiven for them.
I internalized it as emotional trauma.
I've never looked at her and thought "You've never forgiven me."
But when these things popped into my head, it made sense.
It explains that crippling anxiety of upsetting people.
It explains why, when I'm depleted and upset, I go straight to guilt.
It explains why I find reasons in my head for people not to like me, and then worry over the reality of it.
It explains why I have a hard time with self-trust.
🔼
⥈
🔽
But it also explains why I'm so empathetic.
Why I root for the underdog.
Why I crave connection and communication.
Why I want to see the best in people.
Why I believe, when someone is showing their worst self, that underneath all of that is pain and not evil.
It's why I always want to give people the benefit of the doubt.
It's why I want to deconstruct a person's worst behaviors to see the scenarios that led them to this state instead of condemning them for it.
And it's why I want to be part of the solution by offering understanding and love and permission to others.
🔼
⥈
🔽
So, while these traumas sometimes feel like my life-long sorrows
it isn't lost on me that they can also be my superpower.
⇝◑⇜
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