HUMANITY

Light is fluttering across my closed eyelids. The glow from the sunrise makes its way through the skin, gently nudging my eyelids to open. I slowly open my eyes from a heavy sleep and telepathically greet the sun's morning light coming into the room. There is a slight breeze this morning, and the abstract shadows created by the summer leaves from the tree outside the window wave frantically across my face. Glimpses of sharp, bright morning light flashes into my eyes.

I promised myself I would get up early this morning. I'm starting over in life. I have a lot of work to do to erase the manipulated, gaslit, molded path pushed upon me since childhood. I am unlearning this trauma and relearning a healthy way of moving through life.

I have to get out of bed.

I'm in my latter years, and there's still time to live how I envision my life to be and deserve, but only if I can keep up with time that is hastening to an end.

Get up.

It's a beautiful morning.

Get up.

The heat from my body lingers under the covers creating a warm hug I haven't felt from another human in years. I maneuver the layers of covers over my exposed shoulders and then pull them up and over half of my face. The weight and warmth of the blankets feel like how I imagine a cocoon to feel. Safe. I'm safe and loved here in my cocoon. There's no external human noise, industrial noise, or the sight of slight chaotic piles of materials accrued throughout my life scattered around the apartment that silently scream at me to address the broken person I had become. I didn't break myself. It isn't my mess! It's a learned behavior entangled with symptoms of psychological abuse reflected in an array of material things given to me or coaxed into accumulating based on their likes, financial beliefs (for me, not them), or competition.

It's never the victim's fault, but it is our responsibility to recognize, heal, and reconstruct our lives, and there lies the catch-22. The task in healing can be overwhelming and wrapped in a shroud. It's death to what we knew ourselves to be, only to learn it wasn't our true character because our sense of self was never fully allowed to form.

The struggle in life before healing from psychological abuse and the process to healing are both wrapped in fatigue. The in-depth realization that a parent(s) sabotaged your interests purposely to keep you in control of what they felt "was best" for your life, which stripped away confidence and replaced it with self-doubt, lack of skills, and the core belief you are the problem of your life choices- "You can't blame us!"-is exhausting.

I was sent to two different therapists at the age of twelve and at eighteen years, only to be pulled from therapy when they learned they were 'too controlling.' Their ego mattered more to them than my well-being. The therapy sessions lasted less than a few days. The therapists did not have enough time to realize it was more than controlling parents with good intentions. It was narcissism. So, the erosion of the soul continued in the name of parents who believed they had experience; therefore, they knew what was best. The ironic part of it all? They had expert advice on situations they had no experience in and it cost me. It cost my ability to believe in myself and to try new things without overthinking, which would lead to procrastination or a complete failure to launch. It cost my ability to go on adventures without someone by my side to help suppress the debilitating anxiety, to listen to my instincts and set boundaries for those who did not have my best interest at heart, to speak my truth or have my educated opinion heard because if no one in my family took me seriously why would anyone else? So, I coasted through life, losing time to explore and learn from my interests because I had to find my way through what THEY felt best. I was confused and trapped. What is wrong with me? Why can't I do what I want without their approval? Why am I afraid to do what I want for my life? What they want for me doesn't seem to work, yet I keep trying to find my way based on their words and actions.

I was numb and exhausted. I wanted to walk into the ocean and lie on the ocean's floor and fall asleep forever. This is what I quietly wanted.

I finally sought a therapist many, many years later. Many therapy sessions passed, and I thought I couldn't learn more about how I was raised, but I did. The well of understanding narcissism is deep. We have to learn to see the actions, words, or lack thereof from a perspective outside of ourselves to help remove the blame and shame we feel to be able to process the reality of our damaged experiences with narcissistic parents.

The fatigue heavily pressed down on my body and mind. My eyelids closed, and the shadow of the dancing leaves faded away. My body feels like it is sinking again into the overly warm cocoon of bedding. I am safe here. I will greet the sun tomorrow, I thought to myself, and I fell back to sleep.

I will try again tomorrow.

From The Narcissistic Family Diagnosis and Treatment by Stephanie Donaldson-Pressman and Robert M. Pressman:

"Narcissistic parents present a mirror that reflects their own needs and expect their children to react to those needs. The focus is skewed, and the children grow up feeling defective, wrong, and to blame.

When one is raised unable to trust in the stability, safety, and equity of one's world, one is raised to distrust one's own feelings, perceptions, and worth...

Among adult children of dysfunctional (but nonalcoholic and nonabusive) families, we found a body of personality traits previously identified with the ACOA (adult child of alcoholism) model. These included chronic depression, indecisiveness, and lack of self-confidence...and common behavioral traits as well; a chronic need to please, an inability to identify feelings, wants, and needs; and a need for constant validation."