The Anatomy of Unworthiness - Part 1

Her three-year-old self knew in that very moment that her father’s love for her had been withdrawn and was gone, like a flame being suddenly and unexpectedly extinguished. Never to be re-lit. Her desperate, confused, panicked self, felt like life itself was being withdrawn and that she was being extinguished - because in a way, she was.

She did not know why the love was withdrawn and, as an adult, she could only speculate. As that three-year-old, the shock enfolded her as she felt shut-off from her very life-force; the primal fears of annihilation and abandonment realised in that one moment. That state of helplessness and hopelessness numbed her, shutting off a vital part of her which was no longer fuelled by the semblance of love she had known. That was forever gone.

It was many decades later that she recalled the exact moment of that event that until then had been long forgotten; long forgotten, yet relegated to the hidden recesses of her mind from where it markedly affected her emotions, behaviour, relationships, the outworking of her life and, particularly, her sense of self.

Her mother had never emotionally connected with her and had treated her like she was some strange, foreign being that she could neither relate to nor understand. Nor did she try. Bonding and attunement were virtually non-existent. Her mother went through the motions of caring for her, yet without the tender, motherly love that so many experience as their unquestioned birthright.

That little girl was not infused with the oxytocin elixir that might have helped her to feel safe, secure, wanted and loved; and that might have supported her to boldly and confidently engage the world with a robust sense of self-worth. She does not recall having ever been hugged or kissed or shown motherly affection by this woman who birthed her. She does not recall any loving gazes having been cast her way. They might have been, but she does not recall it. She does not remember the words ‘I love you’ having ever been spoken.

Not receiving the mother-love leaves a gaping hole that is difficult to recognise and define, for the young child knows nothing else, until it is observed in others. However, instinctively they know that something is missing. It can be like a yawning chasm that belies description and that most people who had good-enough mothering never experience and, thus, cannot understand. That lack of attunement and benevolent, positive regard leaves a void like no other; a void that one might spend the rest of their lives trying to fill, and often in destructive ways. It often starts the pattern of looking for love in all the wrong places.

The young child needs the attention, presence and love of the parent to affirm her sense of self; and if that is withdrawn, or not present in the first place, she is like a free-floating being with no anchor. Her perception becomes that of not being allowed to have a stake in life, of not being able to receive from life’s bounty, of being an empty vessel – because, in her mind, if there is no reflection, she does not really exist; she does not know who she is. If the reflection is consistently disparaging, this might erode any sense of self-worth and, by extension, self-esteem and its associated healthy sense of entitlement. Or, alternatively, one might develop a false self with a false, grandiose sense of entitlement.

She developed a life-long habit of not feeling seen, heard, attuned to or taken seriously. She felt insignificant and invisible in many settings, not being able to express her presence, feeling that she did not have the right to claim her space, while knowing that other people did. When entering certain social and professional situations involving groups of people, her body would automatically tense as it awaited the accustomed disregard or rebuke, defying her mind’s attempts at reassurance. The body remembers and takes some convincing that it does not need to be on guard at all times.

Though talented and intelligent in many ways, her father was a deeply wounded, complicated man. In her adult life she realised that he had never dealt with, nor emotionally recovered, from his own considerable childhood trauma and losses. The lid had been firmly shut on that container of pain, never to be opened in that lifetime and further battened down by a consistent consumption of alcohol.

For his generation, dealing with one’s own buried emotional pain and trauma, might well have been considered to be a self-indulgent waste of time that detracted from trying to survive The Great Depression, world wars and such. However, that pain does not dissipate and is projected out and transmitted down the family line for the descendants to bear. The unhealthy legacy of what has not been dealt with and resolved by previous generations, will play out in the lives and the bodies of the progenies and be further added to by the ongoing vicissitudes of life.

He would shut her out and sulk for days, treating her with disgust and disregard, as if her very presence was an insult to him; leaving her bewildered and confused as to why she was the recipient of the all too frequent ‘silent treatment’. His habit of denying her very existence, the injunction to not exist, was somehow worse than the overt abuse. She later projected that dynamic out onto so many of her relationships, and particularly those with authority figures. In so many settings, she obeyed that injunction to ‘not exist’. Her inner critic decided that it was a crime for her to freely express who she was, what she felt and believed. She did not even know who she was.

If he argued with her mother, she, by proxy, would be included in his attacks of vitriol, worsened by her frantic and futile attempts to protect her mother from his onslaught. Her mother made no attempts to protect her, assiduously ignoring her daughter’s cries when she was dealt her beatings with the dreaded and ever ready leather strap. For who knows what childish misdemeanours.

She realised that his many narcissistic traits were born out of his attempt to survive an environment marked by chaos, loss and, likely, unspeakable abuse. She knew, as an adult, that his spite and cruelty towards her, his rejection of her very being, were influenced by his own unaddressed early experiences. She knew, as an adult, to not take personally what she endured at the hands of one whose behaviour was distorted and conflicted by his own considerable unprocessed pain. She knew that hurt people, hurt people.

However, her young child-self did not know of these things or of any psychological rationalisations for peoples’ abusive behaviour. She took it very personally indeed. In fact, she internalised it and decided at a very young age that something was indeed fundamentally wrong with her to be treated as she was and to have been born into that family and environment.

Her little heart would ache at the loveless dysfunction of her family, at the lack of succour and comfort to which she might take refuge. Nurturance and protection were not her birthright. She knew that how she felt was of no importance to them and that there was no-one with whom she could share her distress. She learned to internalise or shut it all down, to put on the mask that belied her inner turmoil; to pretend that all was well. All was far from well.

She was fed and clothed and sent to school. What did she have to complain about? Others had it so much worse. She also knew that there were others who had it so much better. She recalled very little, if any, healthy affection shared within her family. She visited a few families of her childhood friends and was in awe, yet confused and confronted by the love and positive regard that they showed each other. This was strangely foreign to her and she did not know how to regard it, yet it reinforced that something was indeed missing in her life.

—————

We take great risk in sharing our deepest secrets because many will not relate to, nor understand, those experiences. Many will judge the act of divulging what might have been locked away for many decades, as an act of victimhood, a ‘pity party’, the seeking of attention, a weakness. Because society does not want to examine its own shadow, this is reflected in many groups, institutions, families and individuals, and is sometimes seen as simply distasteful. Put on a smile and pretend all is well. Positive thinking and all that. Others have had it much worse. Just be grateful. Just forgive.

I believe that we cannot change that of which we are unaware, what we do not acknowledge; and I well know the adverse effects on the psyche, and the body, of trauma, neglect and distress that is suppressed, repressed and unexpressed. It needs to be brought to the surface, when and if the timing is right for the individual to do so, and with appropriate support, in order to heal and transform it. This is not a process that can be forced according to others’ agendas; yet allowed, guided and supported if an individual so chooses to go on this journey.

This is not about blame (though this might well be a necessary temporary state), for maintaining blame will thrust one more into self-defeating victimhood. Everyone is doing their best with what they know and everyone’s behaviour is influenced, if not governed, by their own unresolved traumas, issues and myriad other influences. And who knows what karmic and soul contract factors might come into play, as well as other more esoteric influences. Who knows the bigger picture?

It is, however, about acknowledging what was experienced and how that affected the individual. It is a personal, subjective story that is recalled in order to start turning that ship around and mine for the gold within the difficulties of life.

The journey is from victimhood to personal empowerment. And what a journey it is! We are all victimised at times and no-one escapes some trauma, though obviously some experience more than others and, of course, there is a subjective element where our individual predispositions and perceptions flavour our reactions to our life experiences. It is the meaning that we put on our experiences, more then the experiences themselves, that can have the most deleterious long-term effects on psyche and body.

Though appropriate guidance might well be necessary and helpful, it is ultimately we, individually, who have to deal with the hand we were dealt. And if we don’t, we will pass on our unresolved issues for others to bear.

There will always be those who had it worse, sometimes much worse, and those who had it better, sometimes much better. This is not a comparison nor wounding-out game. No-one fully knows what another experienced, though there can be similarities. And, we cannot judge by appearances. No-one on the planet, no matter how loving, competent and good intentioned their parents were, escaped some difficult experiences and distress. That is life on planet Earth, though I sincerely hope that the ‘growth through suffering’ pattern becomes completely redundant. I think as a species, we have done enough of that and there must be a better way.

To be continued…

Dr Catherine Fyans is a retired medical practitioner, trauma therapist, mind-body consultant and the author of ‘The Wounding of Health Care: From Fragmentation to Integration’