Raspberry Iced M

I want to try to explain something that I have only recently understood. Something I had to learn the hard way.

What most people think they know about trauma, about abandonment, about narcissism, about people pleasing? It’s usually not correct.

And I know that because I’ve worn every one of those badges – not because I was a bad person (despite the attempts of many to convince me otherwise), but because something inside of me didn’t feel safe.

When we are children, we start gathering information about ourselves, and drawing conclusions based on that information.

When we’re young, and before our brains are even fully developed, we experiment with different qualities – inside the expectations of our superiors – to try to see what fits. What feels right. What makes us most comfortable. What earns us the most acceptance.

And based on a lack of acceptance and lack of comfortability in certain situations, I learned that something was wrong with me. I learned that I wasn’t like everyone else. So I tried it all. I developed strategies to deal with the wounds that lack of acceptance and discomfort created.

Very early, I developed the skill of observation. I read every room. I was obnoxious and outgoing around some. Reserved and a profound thinker around others. I learned what was appropriate based on the situation and based on the needs of others. And I attempted to master every performance in various social settings.

And eventually it all landed in a dishonest place. Not because I intended to be wholly dishonest, but because the approval of others mattered more – in isolated moments – than being completely truthful.

That’s where it started. And I figured out that masking my genuine self – before I even learned who I really was – earned me more friends, more recognition, and more support.

It was relief, even if only temporary.

And as my dishonesty was exposed and that relief turned into something internally chaotic…as I lost those friends and that acceptance and that comfort, shame snatched me by my head.

And that’s the way it’s been ever since. That cycle. Because the strategy I developed long ago to acquire approval didn’t go away as I matured. It followed me. And it began showing up across my adult relationships.

First the need for acceptance. Dishonesty and masking and performance to earn that acceptance. Relief. Then exposure. Chaos. Shame, and the desire to escape it…which perpetuated my need for more acceptance…thus prompting more dishonesty and masking and performance.

For the better part of two decades, as that cycle has repeated itself, it’s always been somewhere between the “steps” of exposure and shame that I decide I am going to submit to truth and commit to interrupting that cycle.

Fake the smile. Swallow your own needs. Straighten up.

That need for acceptance didn’t disappear. In fact, it still exists.

But in order to combat that need, I stopped expressing myself outwardly. Instead, I learned how to shrink. I became very self-conscious. I learned to hide and protect myself because I didn’t want to feel even more like I didn’t fit in. I learned to ignore my own boundaries, my own values, and my own worth just to hold onto people that never intended to stay in the first place.

If being outgoing won’t get me there, maybe becoming a doormat will.

I abandoned myself. It’s just that simple.

I was so focused on not being left that I left myself.

And what I’ve come to terms with is that all of this served a purpose at certain points in my life. As a child, those patterns and that cycle protected me. They helped me cope. They helped me navigate situations where I didn’t feel seen or loved. And as an adult, I felt like I only belonged if I was needed.

None of this meant something was wrong with me. It only meant that something inside of me adapted so that I could access acceptance.

But I’m not a child anymore. I’m not young anymore. I’m self-aware. Finally. And what once protected me eventually became a huge problem for me and the people around me, because as I continued to repeat that cycle, and as people were negatively affected by it, the subsequent result was destruction.

Narcissism. People-pleasing. Those aren’t personality traits. They’re just disregulated nervous systems without containment.

Something feels unsafe, so your system reacts.

But the reaction isn’t always truth. It’s an alarm.

And here’s the shift…

I was not the alarm. I was the one hearing it go off. I’m not the voices in my head trying to negotiate my worth. I am the person receiving those voices.

I have spent most of my life in fear. Fear of rejection.

But fear isn’t real danger. Fear cannot hurt me.

So I stopped trying to fix the wound. And instead, I started observing the pattern. And what I’ve seen so far isn’t rejection. I’ve seen reality.

Nothing stays the same. Everything changes. People. Roles. Rules. Scenery. Circumstances. Even the stars, which look like they’re fixed in the sky, move. And since everything evolves, so do other people. Including people we love.

For the better part of a year, I have forced myself to sit in the discomfort I used to try to unhealthily and dishonestly escape. I’ve resisted the habitual urge to fix relationships. I’ve let go of any false sense of control that I used to desire and I’ve allowed people to reject me. I’ve allowed unforgiveness. I’ve allowed accusations. And gossip. And assumptions.

What I have realized in the middle of this season of isolation is that none of it matters. Whoever stays, stays. Whoever leaves, leaves. Whoever talks, talks. Defending a destructive pattern, justifying my own boundaries, apologizing over and over, working for acceptance – none of it makes a difference. It is counterproductive to want to learn who I really am if I give other people the keys to my worth.

So while losing people used to terrify me – so much so that I altered my personality to suit their needs – now I’m just here – still sitting in discomfort and fear. I’m not defending what I’ve done. I’m not working to fix any relationship. I am not apologizing anymore than I already have. I am not anchored in external acceptance. I’m not clinging to a desire to be understood. And slowly but surely, the discomfort and fear that used to be unbearable isn’t so scary anymore.

There is freedom in letting go. In not chasing. In being misunderstood.

You’re okay. Just rest.