“How do you defend yourself against yourself?” a woman near my age asked. Her voice carried a hint of kidding and a heap of exhaustion.
“What do you mean?”
She gave me a quick stare, assessing whether she could trust me enough to continue.
“I’ve realized a lifetime pattern. Maybe it’s not a pattern so much of just who I am and have always been. I’m struggling to determine if this pattern is good or bad, or if I’m wrong or right.”
“Why does the choice have to be either/or?” I asked.
“I suppose it doesn’t.”
“Please, continue. If you are comfortable,” I said.
“I realize how much time I have spent speaking harshly to myself while minimizing the harm others have caused. This is especially true with people I’ve connected with. Honestly, I have healthier relationships with acquaintances: I hold boundaries with people I don’t know very well. I hold my own.”
“And what do you think you hold when it comes to people you have connections with?” I asked.
“Guilt. If I do anything or even think anything that may be hurtful to them, I will wrestle with my guilt until it becomes something almost physically sickening,” she said.
“Sounds like what you are calling guilt may actually be shame. In its simplest form, guilt is more in line with believing you did something bad; shame is thinking you are someone bad,” I said.
The woman spent the next hour sharing with me her experiences with some of the people closest to her, even with those whose bonds had since severed, either by death of the relationship or the individual.
“From what I can tell, you have several patterns, and they are looped in a cycle that feeds off one another. For example, the relationships where you have struggled to stand up for yourself are those where you have received chronic invalidation. Although these individuals vary in their roles and the timing of their influence in your life, they share several similarities: they tend to be selfish, struggle with entitlement, demonstrate a lack of respect for you, and hold some form of authority over your life.”
“Nailed it,” she said. “That’s all true.”
“The other part of the cycle is this: you wish for a good relationship with these individuals, so you allow them to diminish you until even your anger doesn’t feel justified. This is often done through breadcrumbing.”
“Breadcrumbing?” she asked.
“Yes, someone manipulates you, belittles you, pulls a power play over you, and you begin to think that this person is not good for you. Then, this person does something nice… drops a crumb to the woman starving to be appreciated. You snatch up the crumb, and the individual looks at you while you gobble it down, basking in their benevolence. You second-guess your harshness towards them, berating yourself, telling yourself to shut up – clearly, they are not all that bad. You were wrong.”
“Yes,” she said, quietly.
“You end up normalizing your own mistreatment. Except now, others are not the only ones mistreating you — you are mistreating yourself. Let me ask you something: Would you say you get angry often?”
“Angry?” she scoffed. “No, rarely. Not my style.” Her brow furrowed. “Why do you ask me that?”
“From listening, I’ve noticed that you go from speaking openly about your frustrations to quickly discounting them, either by apologizing for speaking negatively or excusing the negative behaviors of others altogether,” I said.
“I know! Why do I do that?” she asked.
“I would have to have more information and time, but I can offer a few possibilities for you to think about. Perhaps you don’t recognize your anger because, from an early age, you have stuffed it into a manageable, quiet box so it won’t cause trouble. Maybe from early on when dealing with authority figures- in your case, your dad- in an effort to stay in his good graces, you shamed yourself if you felt anger toward him.”
“Are you saying through time my anger has converted to shame?” she asked. “I’m not even sure I know how to express anger outwardly anymore.”
“Being disassociated from anger as a coping mechanism can manifest into something else over time. When anger does begin to bubble, it can make you uncomfortable, riddled, and feel like a monster. This feeling goes against who you want to be, so you suffocate the monster with shame. The anger is actively silenced until you feel it stirring no more. But it still has breath, but now the breath gives voice to shame. You essentially put yourself in a position to act against yourself.”
She remained silent; I did not speak, as her thoughts echoed loudly.
“I guess that’s just who I am,” she finally said, as if she were declaring a sentence of penance — a resigned admission.
“Nurture and nature both play a role. Maybe it’s your nature to be overly forgiving, but your experiences and circumstances also influence your behavior. I see you as extremely forgiving to everyone but yourself,” I proposed.
“Which leads us back to my initial question: How do you defend yourself against yourself?” she asked.
“Great question, especially since the individuals we rely on to teach us these skills are often the very ones doing the harm. And let’s face it, those abusing at any level and getting away with it will certainly not be the ones also to offer the tools to protect others from themselves,” I said.
“So that’s it? Nothing to do but remain at odds with them? I’m a magnet to people like you just described,” she said.
“I will leave you with one suggestion… a starting place, not a one-and-done. This pattern has taken almost a lifetime to form, and it will take intentionality and time to break, building new, healthier patterns… a healthier normal. My suggestion is this: rather than focusing on the fallout of being at odds with someone else, focus on being right with you. What that looks like is ultimately up to you.”
“Right with me? I’m always asking others if they are alright, not myself. I know I’m messed up,” she laughed.
“Start there – right there. Stop speaking yourself into small spaces. Grow your thoughts and give breath and life into seeing and believing in yourself as someone who is actively becoming healthier, stronger, and even more capable. Regardless of who has tried to make you believe otherwise, don’t let one of the diminishers of you be yourself!”
“Speak myself into a healthier vision,” she said. “I can work on that. No guarantees, but I can try,” she said.
I wanted to mention that even in her admission to work on it, she minimized her success before she even began trying.
“Wait!” she said so loudly it made me jump. “Let me say that over. I will work on that. Period,” she said, smiling at me.
“And I believe you will. Eventually, you will dine from the banquet of health and have no appetite for breadcrumbs,” I said.
This column was initially published by CherryRoad Media. ©Tiffany Kaye Chartier.