One of the biggest maladaptive strategies that can root after trauma is the need to please others, or show others you are ‘ok’ (when you’re not) in order to keep the horrific images and sensory sensations at bay. To keep you from re-living it over and over again.
When you’re a child who has not formed the ability to be that self-aware, consciously, and you’re overwhelmed in a way you’re not set up to handle, you dissociate from the experience, rather, from yourself, really, and do anything other than be you, in order to survive feeling your feelings.
Then we wonder why we have generations of people who say things like “I don’t know who I am.” I can tell you that I had no idea how to access John, truly, and it has cost me dearly in life.
I spent so much time in my head, away from learning how to live in this world, that to others who didn’t know me, I was an intense little weirdo.
That collected trading cards …
I also knew the stats for all my favorite players and could recite the winners of the Indianapolis 500 at request. States and Capitals were money too!
The kid who would notice the dead squirrel on the ground during a school parade and bend over to take a picture of it, to make sure that his mom saw that picture first.
And that time in first grade, when the kid was walking by homeroom door and said he fell in the trash can, to which I immediately just blurted out “Good for you,” in front of the whole class, and the kid.
Everybody laughed …
I hadn’t even lifted my head to tell the joke, and the teacher didn’t come scold me. I just remember kids telling me after class it was hilarious and clearly, I filed that memory away for this moment.
I’ve come to trust those who share their thoughts freely, over those who clearly edit their thoughts. There is an expression, a way of saying them, a tone and delivery that let’s you know if the person is bullshitting you, or not.
When they are, your gut will start gurgling like you have to fart. Don’t poop your pants, just, trust your gut.
It’s not easy …
It may be easier for those fortunate enough to grow up in a safe, steady, supportive emotional environment over those in unstable upbringings, and so, there is a gap many must close, or they’ll fall into.
Learning to trust our instincts when they have been blunted by our environment, is a disaster waiting to happen when faced with the harsh reality of life. Nobody cares that you didn’t have a stable life, they just want you to ‘act’ stable around them, so that they feel better.
That means you’ll need to figure out how get what you need, even though you didn’t get what you needed, in order to meet the needs of others.
Then you’ll see some magic …
And get your needs met.
Seriously, you’ll need to figure out how to meet other peoples needs and then, maybe (if they’re the right people) they’ll meet your needs whole-heartedly. Weird, right?
This can be the most challenging part of your life, especially if you’re unaware that you’ve been so detached from yourself that you don’t even know there’s an issue, let alone where to begin. No wonder you think it’s always about you, and hurt so much when it’s not.
This is what nobody tells us …
Because they don’t fucking know either, fuckers. That’s why I even started this blog in the first place, because I’m tired of people giving the excuse that ‘this is how they were raised’, and ‘just how it is’, that for some reason they can’t change.
Fuck that, they can … they just may be choosing not to … which is not ok.
A person that cannot change, is a dead person … all others have the ability, if they so choose, to cultivate the courage necessary to begin excavation.
Do it anyway …
No, this work is not easy, nor for the faint of heart, however, the alternative is not easy, nor for the faint of the heart, either. If you aren’t willing to get a little weird about how you live, your life will get weird.
The question becomes, why change?
The answer becomes, because you’re not getting what you want the other way and you think life is meaningless, and thus, you have given life less meaning, and no value.
Do you care if people think you’re weird?
Maybe that’s what it is. Nobody told you it was ok to be weird because they weren’t comfortable with their weirdness, which to me, is weird.
I can only say that after living a life of hating my weirdness and denying its existence. That got me as close as my brothers letter that I found after his death, to pushing me over the edge.
Embracing my weird kept me from going over.
What’s pushing you to the edge? Please, share with us below!