“ You were a horrible child”
Or maybe it was, “as a child, you were horrible”, or possibly “you were horrible to me, as a child”.
Or maybe it was all of those, I can’t remember the exact wording. I know it was said in some phrase or another and the word horrible was said more than once in reference to me.
It’s hard because you are in too much shock when someone tells you that about yourself, to know how to respond. I thought I was a nice kid (sorry about the picky eating, mom and dad).
It’s okay now though, because apparently I am a nice young woman.
Except it’s not, because inside me is still the horrible child. Because that child is me and just because she is in the past, does not mean that that child’s thoughts, feelings and experiences are separate to the woman I’ve become.
In fact, in that moment of shock and hurt, I had a lightbulb moment. I’ve had a bad week (they wouldn’t know, I didn’t get chance to tell them before the conversation moves on from how I am) and now everything suddenly makes a lot more sense about why I am the way I am.
Because I am horrible. This is my inner shadow, if you follow the suggestions of Stutz. My inner shadow is that “horrible child”. That is to say, fundamentally unloveable, unimportant, with thoughts and feelings that either don’t deserve to be heard, aren’t worthy or are hysterical. In my worst moments, this is what comes back to me - sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously.
Historically, this horrible child was naturally anxious and made more so by circumstances outside of my control. And boy did I feel out of control. I desperately craved closeness to my mother for reassurance. But that wasn’t always possible. Sometimes I was away from my parents and domineering relatives pushed me into a corner insisting that I do/behave/ eat in a certain way.
Ironically I was always a quiet child but my poor brother has more memory than I do of the shouting (screaming?) matches between myself and my grandparents which constantly elevated themselves to new levels and volumes as I desperately tried to find a way out of a situation I didn’t want to be in. Today I realised how much trauma had been embedded in that history and how much I have blocked out of my memory as a result.
I thought that there couldn’t be that much trauma from a relationship outside of the home - I saw my grandparents but not constantly, they lived a distance away so they couldn’t drop in constantly. But they were around to ‘help’ when my mother was ill.
I realised today that I was wrong. All my life I have craved acceptance and feared being rejected. I am incredibly sensitive to criticism and a perfectionist.
I struggle to share my thoughts and feelings and express dissatisfaction, sadness, frustration or anger with others.
And I am prone to lashing out to those who least deserve it (namely, my poor suffering husband as I would let no one in to see that vulnerable side). And then afterwards I always feel deeply ashamed and unworthy.
I find it especially triggering if, when I am angry, people dismiss what I am trying to express and just accuse me of shouting. Ironically this then makes me so irrationally angry that I do become hysterical. I wonder where this vicious cycle originated from? LOL.
I’m not proud of this, but today I understand it better.
Because in these moments I am a child again and I am being punished for expressing my absolute fear and desperate need for a loving adult to understand me and that fear.
