When I was a kid, I was taught that wrongs should be righted. If someone hit you on the playground, the expectation was that the other child would approach you, apologize for their behavior, and that a responsible adult would further punish the child for their crime. At times, this is the way life is scripted and carried out. When someone does something wrong, others see, and we work to correct the offense. We take care of the hurt one even while we punish the offender.
But what happens when no one sees the offense?
Photo by Hossein Ezzatkhah at Unsplash
The sense of injustice when someone hurts you and the offense is unseen, never recognized, and justice is not served is crushing.
Who tends to the wound if no one has seen the cut, or bruise, or verbal lashing out?
Who punishes the offender when no one else has witnessed the harm done?
How does the child trust that they are safe, that they will be protected, or that justice will be done when unseen offenses occur?
Yet this is just what happens for many children who are wounded by those who are expected to be their protectors: their parents. Although physical abuse and neglect may become apparent to outsiders, the number of children who are abused or neglected yet remain undetected remains unknown. Those children who endure verbal, emotional, or psychological abuse and neglect may only be revealed years later.
The Walking Wounded
The walking wounded, these children whose abuse has remained undetected, carry around pain, shame, guilt, and blame. They grow into adulthood with skewed views of themselves, struggling to develop healthy interpersonal relationships, and experiencing long-term depression, anxiety, or addictive behaviors. The world has proven to them to be the same as their abusers: undependable, fickle, and distant.
What if the wounded one is you? How can you right the wrong, find justice, begin healing?
The process begins by exploring and telling your story. The traumatic experiences of childhood abuse and neglect, or parentification for others, robs the child of her story and voice. The emotions of this little one were not considered, given space to be expressed and tended to openly. Telling the story requires a hearer, someone that we can safely tell what happened.
Healing often looks different than we hope, and often occurs apart from those who wounded us.
Finding a Safe Helper
Finding someone who can be trusted is difficult for adults who grew up in abusive, neglectful homes, or whose role was to care exclusively for their parent. Their inner compass doesn’t point north the way it should. Although not all therapists are safe people, it’s often a great place to start.
How can you know if someone is safe? Trust your gut. Clinically, we call this congruence (incongruence). We’ve been told to ignore or stuff these warnings by many people. Let’s be clear, the unsafe people force us to quiet or ignore our gut because it’s only when we do that they can gain power and maintain control.
This can be challenging because the child of abuse, neglect, or parentification has had to quiet their intuition to survive. Some questions to ask yourself when meeting with a therapist for the first time include:
How do I feel around this person? Though we’ve often been told to ignore our “gut” (clinically we call this congruence/incongruence) in childhood, listen to it here.
What is their demeanor when I talk? Do they lean in to listen, or are they buried in notetaking?
Whose side are they on? (A safe therapist should be on your side, yet able to challenge unhealthy habits. There’s a difference between being able to challenge a client’s actions and being able to embrace their experiences as real and valid.)
What type of experience/specialized training do they have? Does it align with family systems issues or trauma? If not, it’s okay to ask for a referral.
How much will this cost me? Not every provider is contracted with insurance, or possibly not with your insurance. If you can’t afford to see the provider regularly, it will be challenging to make progress. Not impossible but challenging. Not sure how to find out who might be contracted with your insurance? Call the member services number on the back of your insurance card and ask for a list of contracted mental health providers.
Consider looking for a counselor via Psychology Today, Therapist.com, or TherapyDen. If you’re an adult child, look for counselors who specialize in trauma and family therapy even if you plan to do individual counseling sessions. And of course, if you are open to telehealth and reside in Washington State, send me a message to schedule a free 15-minute phone consultation at ceci@cecigarrett.com!
I always felt out of place, Like I didn’t belong here.The ones who were supposed to love and protect me— Didn’t. Instead, I was told how far I came from measuring up To their expectations. How taking care of me Was simply too much for them. The accusation was heavy: If it weren’t for you… This, And this, And even this… Wouldn’t be like this.
So, I apologized for breathing, For existing and having needs Until I stopped expressing them. I fixed my mind on fixing them, On making them happy And slowly I lost me.
I dreamed that one day I would matter, That I would have a voice, A right to personal happiness. But first, I must find a way to fix them. Before I could truly live, I should find a way— To change them. If only they would change– I would matter, Have a right to dream and play, To laugh or to cry for shattered dreams.
I had changed. I’d become like them. I couldn’t bear the realization— I was now breathing their poison, hoping others would change.
Instead, I decided to rebel the best way I knew: I changed me. And stopped looking to them to change, Or to validate, Love, Accept, Approve, Or even see the real me.
That girl is worth the hard work Of digging out from beneath the wreckage, Trash and “treasures” of their illness, Abuse, neglect, and ignorance.
She is prized. I set her carefully as the focus. I made choices to make her my center, To love and cherish, To build up and protect, To care for and adore. If only you would change, they said.
I did. And now their opinions no longer matter to me.
That old question came back to me today: Do I matter? Why am I here? Is there a reason for this life of mine? It’s not a question rooted in anxiety or depression today, but rather is rooted in a perspective of looking back, reflecting on what has been so far.
This life, my life, has not been easy. I suppose, most of us would say that if we were asked. It’s not something special or unique to me.
Life, it turns out, is tough for most of us in some way.
But today, looking at the past, revisiting that old fear, I have security in knowing that my life does have a purpose, that my past trials, pains, and humiliations have worked together for some purposes instead of a random accidental patchwork of events that lead me to feeling forgotten and insignificant.
“Your life matters because it is broader in scope than the darkness you might experience today. Your life is more permanent than your struggles.” -John Herrick
Wherever you are today, I hope that you find someone who is willing to share their story and offer you a glimpse into how each of our lives matters. The workman does not test and purify the metals that are common and insignificant, but tests and purifies the gold. Your life, like mine, has a tremendous value. Today, yes, it seems tough. It may seem like there is no reason for the pain you’ve faced. Although I can’t tell you exactly why you are facing this right now, I have been in your shoes. It gets better. You get better. But you already matter.
This. This life does matter. You are precious, like gold. Like the golden ornaments upon the Christmas tree, you matter.
It’s been a while since I’ve posted on here Today, I thought that it might be helpful to share a bit of what’s going on in my life. Fortunately, it’s not a bad thing. That said, it involves an element of change that I’m finding tough: embracing a new perspective about myself. In other words, I am learning to embrace “the real Ceci G”, and become comfortable with who she is. Part of this requires me to define what I am not while also looking more realistically at what I can become. It’s as if, in some ways, I’m looking at the whole world in a new perspective simply by looking once again at me.
Things have remained busy here. For example, I continue to work on my degree, as well as working tirelessly advocating for families like mine. Fortunately, I’m on track to graduate and with good grades. As a result, I’ve been attempting to integrate some feedback from others about my grades and accomplishments.
Although I was a good student in elementary and middle school, I struggled with some issues outside of school during high school which impacted my grades. Combined with some projecting of negative statements from my PWH, I had concluded that I am not really that smart or capable. As an example of these negative statements, my PWH would often say things like, For someone so smart that was really stupid. Certainly, it’s no surprise that I chose to pick up on the overarching trends: I somehow am less than I should be, or altogether too much and too complicated.
The Challenge
A year ago, a mentor of mine told me that I was extremely capable and intelligent. Because she’s someone I respect and deeply value her thoughts and opinions, I wanted to believe her. Additionally, she told me that whatever I chose to do with my life, I would be successful. Truthfully, I wonder if it was a warning to choose carefully. Whatever I would go after, she concluded, I would excel.
At first, the comment was embarrassing. Honestly, I didn’t even know how to take it. Possibly, I eeked out an awkward, “Thank you.”
The seed was planted. Although I still hadn’t really taken this statement into myself and integrated it into my self-concept, it was there. Slowly, it’s been growing little by little.
Most of the things that contribute to our self-concept, self-worth, and self-esteem are based on interpretations of what others tell us about ourselves. Sometimes this feedback is crap–not worth the air used to share it. Sometimes it comes in a mixed form, and we are unable to sort out truth in the middle of ambiguity. Sometimes it has nothing to do with us at all!
As children, we are especially limited in our ability to discern what is what. We often pick up inaccurate messages, internalize them, and they become who we believe we are. Inadvertently, we carry these messages with us into adulthood. If we’re lucky, we may hit the bottom in some way and realize that something is not quite right. If we’re blessed, we may decide to look inward and search for a “healthier and more beneficial” way of being. And if we are truly persistent, we can uncover our true worth and identity.
Testing a new perspective
When the seed was first planted, it just was there. Yet, with time, I have looked at others’ thoughts and words spoken to me or over my achievements.
I am learning to weigh and integrate new information. When someone makes a statement, about me or anything/anyone else, I am trying to start evaluating it critically. Cautiously, I turned things around and looked at them logically first.
What motive could others have for their words? How likely is it that repeated statements are true even if I struggle to accept them? What kind of risk would I be taking to integrate these positive thoughts into my self-concept? How would they benefit from my adoption of a more positive self-evaluation? Would I benefit from it? Is this an emotion, subjective to each person’s perspective, or a potential factual statement? Could this be true of someone else? If so, could it also be true of me?
Adoption and Integration
At times, it has seemed arrogant to choose to believe these new perspectives. That’s part of the challenge, learning to let go of broken narratives. Yet, I’ve begun to see that it’s quite possible that I am as smart, capable, gifted, and patient as people are telling me. I’m beginning to see that some of those whose opinions I’ve valued most were simply those who were the best at hiding their underlying motivations.
A commitment to accepting new information as plausible or true takes time. I keep practicing my new narrative. I can be quite intelligent, gifted, and patient while also still making my fair share of mistakes. One does not discredit the others completely. Brilliant people have bad days and make bad choices. Some dense people have amazing advisers and are wildly successful despite not being the most brilliant person in the room. Most things, it turns out, are not “either or” circumstances.
Adoption requires courage. It takes chutzpah to commit to claiming a new perspective about yourself, especially when the narrative has been distorted for a long time. Integration requires persistence and patience. Change doesn’t occur immediately. I find I must remind myself of these new facts and interpretations repeatedly before they take root and sprout. That requires effort over time.
What new information are you trying to integrate about your self? Where are you feeling stuck? What’s been helpful in your process?
I am going to share something that I wrote on the plane when I flew into DC for the first time last August. I didn’t really know what my mother’s medical condition was, or the condition of her home. Often, I turn to writing as a form of coping or healing. Somehow, putting words down on paper and getting the thoughts out of my head is calming for me. I hope that perhaps someone who needs to hear these things will have the opportunity to read it and it will be a springboard as they enter their journey toward healing.
I’m posting it now because I am closing the door, ending an era of my life. As I continue to break free from my childhood, I’m learning that I have to go back and take account of what really happened. This is part of the recovery process. That means I have to face memories that are excruciatingly painful, allowing myself to feel that pain.
Unfortunately, I haven’t discovered a set time frame for how long this period takes. My best guess is that it depends on what you’ve faced, how much time and energy you want to commit, and how long ago it happened.
Whatever may have happened to you, I hope you find the courage to acknowledge that it was real. It hurt. Likewise, you’re probably still trying to break free and move past it.
Writing for healing can take many forms. For example, I have found that writing via this blog has been helpful. Sometimes, I write poetry. Other times, I find it necessary to write out challenging past events.
Today, I am sharing an old writing to encourage and inspire your process. Additionally, I’m ready to move into another phase: re-parenting myself. Re-parenting is about starting to live with healthy habits.
Trauma and Psalm 23
Going home resurrects deep-seated anxiety within me. The laissez-faire days of childhood have long ago been erased by the haunting of shame, false guilt, dread, and embarrassment.
It’s amazing just how much the human soul can tolerate, still functioning in “normalcy”. Its adaptability likens itself to the chameleon. And yet, the past lurks just below the surface mimicking rational thought.
The hurt child grows and matures often, and may in fact appear to have received healing until faced with the return to the childhood home. And in that moment, the soul teeters between anxiety from what it has been unable to let go of and the “expected joy” pressed upon it by others.
How does the frightened child shake off the dust of abuse and neglect and instead cling to the fairy tale-like memories of fleeting joy and happiness which although also experienced have been repressed and beaten?
THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD; I SHALL NOT BE IN WANT. HE MAKES ME LIE DOWN IN GREEN PASTURES, HE LEADS ME BESIDE QUIET WATERS, HE RESTORES MY SOUL.
In silent repose, the soul and body find the ability to heal and be comforted. When the soul and body together are protected and nourished, healing and restoration come.
HE GUIDES ME IN PATHS OF RIGHTEOUSNESS FOR HIS NAME SAKE.
When the broken child’s soul chooses to stop the cycle, to break the curse of abuse and walk a foreign route instead, it can begin to believe that not all things are created for its demise. Perhaps even, in retrospect, the soul can see how their brokenness has also developed character and moral rightness which leads others to ask, “How can this be?”
EVEN THOUGH I WALK THROUGH THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH, I WILL FEAR NO EVIL, FOR YOU ARE WITH ME; YOUR ROD AND YOUR STAFF THEY COMFORT ME.
In the midst of anxiety, the soul sees a glimmer of light above the mountain range of despair looming large on the horizon before it. Like the first fingers of morning sun breaks over the hills, so hope also reaches down to the soul. Even in the depths of the valleys, the low places of life’s turmoils, even there light can reach.
And this hope can give the soul just enough to allow direction–safe, solid, sound–to hem it in and lead it down a path it might otherwise flee.
YOU PREPARE A TABLE BEFORE ME IN THE PRESENCE OF MY ENEMIES.
The broken soul hungers for something more, something better. The leftover crumbs of stale bread it has survived, though never flourished upon, previously just will not do; they will not be accepted at all. Yet a banquet, a grand feast is prepared solely for that soul when it trusts just enough to risk something different and unknown. The feast is for the broken soul alone, and it is held publicly to flaunt to the abusers, the grafters, the usurers the value of that lone, “insignificant” soul.
YOU ANOINT MY HEAD WITH OIL; MY CUP OVERFLOWS.
The benefactor of grace tends the wounds gently of the broken soul. The healer not only cares for present injuries, but also past scars and protects and strengthens the soul from future harm. He goes so far as to not just heal and protect, but to bless beyond measure. The broken soul receives far more than healing and restitution–it becomes more than what it idealizes “could have been”.
SURELY GOODNESS AND LOVE WILL FOLLOW ME ALL THE DAYS OF MY LIFE AND I WILL DWELL IN THE HOUSE OF THE LORD FOREVER.
Find Your Healing Strategy
Ultimately, we each have to find a source of healing and work through our process. I have friends who use photography or other artistic expressions helpful in moving through their journeys out of past hurts. Whatever you try, keep experimenting until you find the thing (or things) that is most beneficial to you.
What works well for you? I’d love to hear how you’re healing! Your ideas may help someone else get started too!
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