My beginnings
I grew up in a somewhat spiritual household. Religion was more the focus. Parents had instincts and strong feelings for and against certain ideas. Their strong reactions conveyed a black and whiteness to the world, a simplicity. There were the good guys and the bad guys, and within the good guys there were the best guys. In some sense it provided a superficial safety net. Simplicity appeals and as a child, adults suggesting that the world is simple is in a sense reassuring. But as I got older, I began to struggle with the complexities of life. I was nuanced but raised in a way that conditioned me to think in black and white. For a long time, I leaned into my black and white thinking, but it was like a pull and push internally with my conditioning and authentic self. I saw the complexity of people, having a keen interest for psychology and I recognised that things are not always as they seem. Yet it felt like a strong morality police, a Freudian superego constantly pulling on me to see things differently, to not act with empathy but moralising. It was this constant pressure to be good, and it felt like the nuances of who I was faded into a mask of virtue, attempted at least.
My hobbies didn’t matter, my personality, nothing mattered as much as my goodness. Instead of connection, I was seeking to be different from others. In some ways this was good, forming a sense of self not dependent on approval of others, but it lacked an identity centred on people. I feel like the moralising upbringing combined with a lack of parental interest in who I am, left me lost, looking to be good. I wasn’t trying to be me. This is of course simplified, as when I look back, I see so many conflicting motivations, aspirations and subpersonalities bursting fourth in different moments. But my incohesive self often wanted to do the right thing. I knew a lot of my interests, but I didn’t think they mattered emotionally. I was left to deal with my emotions for so much of my life, and punished for them, that things became devoid of emotional meaning.
Becoming a teen
It was only in my late teens that I began to label my emotions. I felt for so long that my dependence on spirituality and being good meant that I didn’t feel negative emotions. I didn’t feel sad; I just connected to my spirituality and then I was okay. There was no trauma for me. There was no anger and if there was, it needs to be put away and then everything is okay. I knew that people get affected by things, but I was different. Until it all came down. I felt the pipes burst.
I had never felt freer, the parts of me which had been supressed were coming to life and having a voice for the first time in my life. The parts of me that were never allowed to be self-hating, finally made their way to the stage and did what they wanted. They wanted me dead. And for the same reasons that others did, as these voices were just the echoes of family who had never made me feel loved, who had made me seem like a threat. I threatened their identity as they were insecure; I threatened the lies they told as I stood in the truth; I threatened their sense of morality, as they emotionally abused me for no reason. And it was as if those unconscious feelings, caused by years of abuse, had their voice heard. It was a relief. It was incredibly destructive, but I know why this happened. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. And my body knew what it needed, which was to be completely bed bound. This was for many reasons. For one, I had been chronically anxious and had never really rested. Furthermore, I wanted to destroy my future, for myself and mainly for others.
My chronic anxiety had been around since secondary school. I couldn’t stand at the bus stop without feeling such overwhelming anxiety about everything. I felt like I couldn’t stand right, anything I did was embarrassing, I felt like I would be not in the right place and have no idea what the right thing to say was. This came from the signalling of being ignored and treated like an alien. I felt such a relief when I failed because firstly one of my parents did not want me to succeed. Their insecurity plagued them so much that my success imbued frustration and insecurity, rather than pride. Both of them, despite their bad parenting, seemed to use my successes to convince other people of their success. It was in spite of them, and yet they made others think it was because of them.
They did not emotionally support me and were often the causes of my emotional turmoil and yet wore my intelligence and hard work as a banner which covered over their neglect. It was an unconscious weapon, which said that my work is no longer your banner, it is no longer something for you to weaponize. And instead, you have to deal with my ‘failure’. But would they ask themselves why their child would fail at anything, despite my intelligence and work ethic, or question their role? Who knows. All I know is they were blind to evident depression. And I don’t care what they thought but they did nothing. And even if they would have tried, I don’t know if their years of neglect and emotional/spiritual abuse could be undone in any meaningful or impactful way. Going into something self-destructive is so odd, and for me it felt like a high. I was hitting all these unconscious points – yet obviously these were not my actual desires. I was fulfilling the desires of others which I had brought inside my mind. Being set free from these is so different, tapping into desires I never knew that I had, whilst releasing traumas which I have healed from.
Connecting with spirituality has been hard, not that I ever lost my sight of God or intuition, but feeling like I was torn because excluding my parents from my life felt like I had to exclude all their teachings about the universe. I realised that regardless of how abusive, unloving and neglectful they were, I could choose which parts of them and what they taught me I could keep. I still have some (very few) good memories, and influences that I will carry with me. It doesn’t have to be a complete rejection of food, trips, books and people they introduced me to. But these things now have a different standard. So, if they are along the same lines as my future, I bring them. And if not, I don’t. it’s simple. Now that I am more in touch with myself it’s easier to do this, but for a while I couldn’t. My identity felt merged with their lives, their errors and their views. But now that I have forged more of a path for myself, I feel different. The disentangling from toxic family systems and their belief systems seems lifelong. I am glad now I am not putting my energy there. I am putting all my energy into me, into the future, into future me. And I get hopeful realising I can have a future totally detached from my past <3