Part 1 of 4

I didn’t know what it looked like for someone to assume the best of me. It took me a long time to figure out that most people naturally default to giving others the benefit of the doubt. They view most folks as kind and good and they don’t intend harm. They see mistakes as normal and don’t take them personally. They decide with compassion that someone else is just having a hard day, or maybe that person has something really major going on, and they give a wide berth. 

I was raised with doubt, suspicion, fear, blame, shame, accusations, hypercriticism, and negative perspectives. Everyone was “out to get” everyone else. Everything bad that could happen would happen. People were mean, rude, crazy, and dumb. When my emotionally immature caretakers were mad at the world, I got called dumb too. I was dumb like the rest of the world. I was a brat, a spoiled brat, a ditz, and a flake. I was “just like” whoever my mother was mad at, like her ex-spouses or her parents. I was “just like” whoever she knew I was mad at, like my best friend or my bully. 

This created an adult who was scared of everything all the time. I had a terrible self-image. I was angry at myself and others so frequently that anger became a constant feeling in my body. That made it easy for my mother to manipulate me and keep her same position in my life. My childhood struggles continued well past my physical adulthood. It was easy for others to believe the perspectives that absolved my parents from responsibility. They would tell everyone that I was depressed because of abuse I experienced as a child, and there was no reason to disbelieve them because of my behavior. I was angry, irritable, self-absorbed, self-destructive, and had no social skills or self-care abilities. 

No one asked who perpetrated the past abuse. I didn’t know how to tell anyone that it was still happening. Everyone thought my current caregivers were the protective ones who saved me from it. They received pity and sympathy for their difficult circumstances of having a problematic adult child like me.

One huge identity shift later, I am bursting with joy to be who I am and becoming who I need to be. I’m the person that I never thought possible, but she always seemed familiar regardless. I have an entire life and an entire world in front of me. I have a partner that I can talk to. We own a whole house. I own beautiful property like I always wanted, and I’m successfully making payments with my responsible adult job. It matters to me that I don’t always like the job, but I don’t quit, because it’s paying for the house. Like a grownup, I keep going to the job I don’t quite like. I take care of myself in other ways and I try to nourish myself with my time outside of work. I eat meals, and take vitamins, and stretch, and buy comfortable clothes that fit me. I clean because I want my new house to look nice, not just because someone is coming over.