Who in your life held you in unconditional high regard and rooted for you, ride or die, 24‑7‑365?
Who in your life consistently instilled messages of doubt, fear, shame, guilt, defectiveness? Chances are those very people made sure to amplify that message at every opportunity, to anyone who would listen. The person or people who did so to me needed me to be bad and wrong so they could feel right about how they treated me—and for enlisting others to support their smear campaign. And to help them curate and affirm their identities as the perpetual victim, the martyr, the hero.
Having the primary women in my life bully me collectively—especially when I struggled in ways they could not relate to or manage—was devastating. Allowing and expecting my proximity only when I happened to please them, banishing and condemning me the rest of the time. Never to be counted on as trusted allies. Conditional AF—soul‑crushing and heartbreaking. Not loving. Not kind. Not safe. Always needing to punish, shame, or rescue. Who even benefits from that… oh—narcissists do.
As I review these patterns and try to make sense of them, I’m finding undeniable connection between the bully, the coward, the persecutor, and the “rescuer.” It is one persona, seeking control, pity, or admiration—at any cost.
It is a miracle that I’ve been able to recognize and address the negative effects on me, and to examine the toxic attitudes and behaviors I learned, copied, and developed to cope within that malignant dynamic. I have so many things I’ve said and done that make me cringe—too many to count. Fortunately, 99% of them are more than 15 years behind me. Cliché as it is… hurt people hurt people. And when we know better, we do better.
I am beyond grateful for all of the unlearning and reparenting. I can see many reasons for why I behaved as I did, and in my effort to understand and explain it—even if only to myself—I do not think for a moment that having a reason is the same as having an excuse. Some things simply cannot be excused. Forgiven, maybe, but not excused.
Without recovery, I absolutely would have—unknowingly and naturally—abused my children, simply by doing what I had learned and experienced: each time I annoyed, inconvenienced, or challenged my bullies—typically by having and expressing a feeling or need.
