Perpetuating Abandonment Issues
Early Onset of Abandonment
Photo Credit – Bev Sykes via Flikr
I’m the product of a lifetime of abandonment issues that began, I believe, when my sister was born. I started believing I was no longer necessary, no longer lovable, no longer wanted, though for years, I looked for love in all the wrong places. After getting knocked on my ass, or kicked in the teeth enough times, I became the perpetuater of of my own solitude.
Tired of being rejected, I learned to sabotage anything that gave me too much of a sense of well-being; of belonging. In my twisted brain, breaking things off first was the only way to protect myself. The only relationships I allowed to continue were with my cats, and even there, each death I couldn’t prevent was, in and of itself, another kind of abandonment.
It might seem, from what I’ve written so far, that I like it this way. Nothing could be further from the truth. The trouble is, I don’t really know how to change 60-odd years of self-protection, and conditioned responses to perceived threats. I’m a cross between a cornered badger and a possum, lashing out in anger, and playing dead so everyone will go away and leave me alone.
The Pain of Rejection
There was a song I sang in childhood that went something like this:
Nobody likes me. Everybody hates me. I think I’ll eat some worms. Long, thin slimy
ones, short, fat juicy ones, itsy bitsy, teeny weeny worms.
In a lot of ways, I came to believe the words of that song, and incorporated them into the way I lived my life. It isn’t, and never was what I wanted. Like my mom before me, I desperately wanted and needed to be loved without reservations or judgement. Yet deep down, I was convinced I didn’t deserve it either. So I continued to sabotage relationships one way or another.
In my lowest moments, I consider how my parents left, and wonder if it’ll eventually be my exit strategy as well, though long ago I vowed to never put my children through the same horror and pain. For now, I hang onto the belief my cats need me, so I promise myself I’ll stick around as long as they do. After that, I can’t make any promises, but will make sure my affairs are in order so no one has to clean up my messes.
Buffeted by the Winds of Change
Mary Poppins promised the Banks children she’d stay until the wind changed. Perhaps what I’m promising is I’ll stay as long as at least one feline friend still needs me. I can’t see any further down my personal timeline than that right now, much less, when or how I’ll make my grand exit.
Without real, strong, convincing connections, life is pretty empty. Alone is fine, but lonely is like a creeping cloud of poison that slowly engulfs not only the body, but the soul until any residual bit of individuality succumbs. I’d like to believe it matters to someone, but have learned it isn’t that simple or clear cut. I’ve allowed no one to play that role for me, and I’m not sure I even know how to open myself up to all that entails. Heck, I don’t know what it means to be completely open to another soul without finding another excuse to panic and shut down.
Sure, the need is still there, but it’s overshadowed by the more powerful belief that trusting is dangerous, can be used against me, and whoever I trust will ultimately leave, and with them, another piece of my battered, bruised, and broken heart.
Overwhelm Passes
As I write, the rain is beating on the roof, and dripping from the patio overhang. It seems a 
fitting counterpoint to what is, to many out there, nothing more than a pity party. Maybe it is. I’ve miscommunicated often enough. But from where I’m sitting, it’s simply recognizing there are times I feel like I’m broken beyond repair, and have reconciled myself to my brokenness…to my aloneness.
I know from experience the feeling passes. I crawl out of the dark place where I retreat when I feel overwhelmed. Over time, it’s grown easier, in part because I’m not as isolated as I want to believe. Daily gratitude posts and Facebook Lives are read and watched by more people than I realized. When I enter a period of radio silence that lasts more than a day or two, it no longer goes unnoticed whereas in the past, I could disappear for a week or so and no one was affected but me.
People reach out. Compassionate souls who believe whatever’s wrong in my world right now can be fixed; that everything in life is temporary, even pain and disillusionment. I’m truly grateful they think I’m worth the trouble. I may believe for a moment I was raised to be abandoned, and to stand alone on the mountaintop looking down at the world, the communities, the people who know how to give and receive love unreservedly. I realize now I never learned how to do that, but over time, I’ve gravitated towards people who do, and who can teach me what my birth family couldn’t.
The Path to Healing is Rocky and Crooked
I talk a lot about healing, and have healed wounds acquired later in life. It’s the deepest, darkest, oldest ones that live on, and have wound themselves so tightly around my being that removing them scares the living daylights out of me. Yet deep inside where my inner child often cowers, there’s a glimmer of light; of hope there’ll come a time when those old wounds will be brought out into the light where they’re not as frightening as the darkness makes them seem.
I hope those who are doing their best to reach out and teach me to not only be compassionate with others, but with myself will stick around long enough to shine their light and guide me on my stumbling, fumbling path towards healing what I’ve carried around for far too long.
I can honestly say I’m not yet ready to say good-bye; to throw in the towel on a life that’s given me an unhealthy share of grief. Surprisingly, I’m not yet ready to give up and stop learning whatever lessons I have left to learn. I’m fumbling my way through some setbacks, but in time, I know I’ll realize some things are meant to be released, even if the initial break hurts like hell. It simply means I have an ability to care that exceeds my own expectations.
I am ready to stop trying to exercise muscles that are no longer pliable enough to grow and change. I’ll try to stop hurting anyone by words, actions, or deeds. I’m ready to disengage from anyone else’s healing process before I short-circuit the progress they’ve made. If it means letting go of people I’ve loved too much, maybe that’s what we both need. Maybe I was smothering their own need to grow and heal.
Keeping the Gratitude Flowing
My gratitudes today are:
- I’m grateful for the people who’ve tried to help me break old patterns.
- I’m grateful for the lessons I’ve been allowed to learn.
- I’m grateful for my cats who give me a reason to get up in the morning, and actually do something with my day, even if it’s just cleaning up after them.
- I’m grateful for another day, knowing they aren’t guaranteed.
- I’m grateful for people who’ve shown me deep abiding love is possible, even if I can’t experience it myself.
Namaste
About the Author
Sheri Conaway is a Holistic Ghostwriter, and an advocate for cats and mental 
health. Sheri believes in the Laws of Attraction, but only if you are a participant rather than just an observer. Her mission is to Make Vulnerable Beautiful and help entrepreneurs touch the souls of their readers and clients so they can increase their impact and their income.
If you’d like to have her write for you, please visit her Hire Me page for more information. You can also find her on Facebook Sheri Levenstein-Conaway Author.
Life keeps changing. Every day, every hour, every minute. Some changes are infinitesimal. You don’t notice until a bunch of changes merge into a larger one, and for some reason, you’re surprised. You’ve been so busy chasing all the things you need to do, or at least think you do, you miss the small stuff. Yet, when all is said and done, it’s all small stuff piling one on top of the other until it only seems like big stuff.
influence, whether they see it or not. Cognitive dissonance makes it difficult to follow new paths because you often revert to old ways and beliefs when you feel uncomfortable. It takes a strong will to allow those periods of discomfort in order to forge new paths. Those who manage it are often called innovators or influencers.
It hasn’t been all that long since we evolved from horse-drawn carriages to gas and electric cars, airplanes, and rockets. Although still in use, snail mail and telegraphs are being left in the dust of telephones, email, and instant messaging. In both cases, and many others as well, innovations continue, while travel, communication, and a wealth of other industries continue to evolve, all in the name of speed and instant gratification.
result has been the kindness and patience of others during the holiday season. In previous years, the stress and strain of juggling work, home, and family was reflected in the impatience and rudeness of people in stores. This year showed how desperate people were for human contact by making their attitude improve with a trip to the market, Costco, or anywhere else they could interact with actual humans face-to-face albeit masked and behind a plexiglass barrier.
Granted, I’ve resorted to ordering more and more online, and utilizing self-checkout in many stores right now, so interaction is limited to the stores that offer neither, or where I have to go in and show ID to get certain items. But when I do go through a checkout line, or ask for help locating an item, I make a point of acknowledging the person by name. Sure, it’s a small thing, but no act of kindness or respect is wasted.
You’re an energetic being, first and foremost, yet all too often, you’re giving your energy away, and forgetting to replenish it. You find it exhausting to do the simplest of things, but don’t understand why. Sometimes, depression sets in when the business of life becomes one, long, uphill climb.
lead them to believe the reward will be worth the effort, and the patience? Who or what is meeting their energy needs while they wait?
As I watch people playing that game with others, I have to tell myself to lock down my judgemental tendencies even tighter, especially when the supporter is someone I care about. I know they wouldn’t thank me for pointing out what’s going on, nor would they believe me any more than I would have taken such information myself when I was in the mental and emotional clutches of, not only my ex, but others before him who recognized my need to please, nurture, and feel valued even if I didn’t. It’s a lesson each of us has to learn on our own, and in our own right timing.
Perhaps therein lies the lesson I’m supposed to learn as patience has never been my strong suit, even if I’ve learned to exercise it more in recent years. I know I have a long way to go to perfect the quality.
on a slab of bricks at the corner of my driveway. Others I put up on either a “Buy, Sell, and Trade”, or a “Buy Nothing” site. Either way, I’ve released another piece of stuff that was contributing to clutter and collecting dust.
It’s made me realize how addicted I’ve become to order. Not the order of some of my friends who keep immaculate houses, decorated like a page out of Better Homes and Gardens. I may have found my way to a less cluttered life, but my world will never be House Beautiful unless I engage someone else to make it that way, and ensure it remains so without a lot of effort on my part. As that would mean having strangers in my house, I don’t see such a drastic change in the foreseeable future. Then again, I didn’t foresee my escape from a world filled with clutter either.
own creation. I know I’ll get home and immediately start putting things back in order. Which is another change I’ve noticed in the last few years. Once, I’d get home from a trip and leave my suitcase packed until I slowly removed clean clothes as I needed them. Only the dirty ones would get into the laundry basket. Now, I unpack my suitcase as soon as I get home, get the dirty clothes into the laundry and the clean ones put away, and stow the suitcase in the garage.
Giving Myself the Credit I Deserve
I face similar issues with my careers. Friends used to tell me how smart I was, and would come to me with technical questions all the time. I’d try to flip it back on them, claiming their success was greater than mine. What kind of claptrap is that anyway? I thought I’d stopped the irrational need to compare myself unfavorably to anyone, yet it comes back time and again to rear it’s ugly head, whether I’m talking about my accounting skills, or my writing.
of my successes, and supportive friends. For every time those things fail me, I’m sure there are at least 10 where they don’t, and probably many more. It’s the painful ones I remember though; the times I fail to shut the evil, whiny voice up.
In the middle of my meditation, Scrappy Doo climbed into my lap, curled up, and began to purr. I realized I was feeling some cramping in my lower abdomen, and gave myself up to the purrs I knew would ease them.
peace, and invigorate, our pets are a constant, unflagging part of the process, yet many overlook their input as it’s often subtle, or such a regular thing, they take it for granted.
My daughter sees the same thing with her older 2. Throughout her pregnancy, both her dog, Gwen and her older cat, Arthur have stuck close to her wherever she might be in the house, and get upset when she leaves, or even steps outside. They’ve taken responsibility for her health and well-being, and take their jobs very seriously. My cat, Missy did the same when I was carrying Heather and her sister, all those years ago. I’m convinced they can hear the babies sloshing around, and like to get close so they can listen, and maybe even communicate with them.
and do not exist. I’ve strengthened my shields to filter out their unpleasant counterparts even more thoroughly, erring on the side of over filtering. The global exhibitions of hate, cruelty, and disregard for other inhabitants of this planet are increasingly exhausting, and send me scurrying for the peace and solitude of my home and my cats.
Life always gives us choices, even when it seems we have none. Not all choices are in our best interests, nor do they help us be better people. Still, we often have to choose anyway, and making no choice is still a choice. You’re just letting circumstances choose for you. I do believe stepping away is a valid choice, though I’ve suffered my share of abuse for exercising that option.
Although I’ve done little more than share the first chapter of my novel “Sasha’s Journey” at a writer’s conference, and make an ill-fated attempt at having “Rebuilding After Suicide” edited, I’m no stranger to rejection these days. In my other guise as an Accountant, I’ve submitted proposals on a couple of projects; both of which I lost. While it’s disappointing to repeatedly receive negative responses, it’s neither the end of the world, nor a time to throw in the towel.
Has it been a smooth path? Not even close. Has it had its share of rewards? I guess that depends on what you call rewards. Financially, it’s been more miss than hit. Emotionally and mentally, it was the best gift I could ever have given myself. I’ve been free to write when, where, and what I want. I’ve done 3 NaNo’s, finished the memoir I started in 2009, written thousands of blog posts, not only for myself, but for other people.
what’s a little disappointment over a rejected pitch or proposal? The wheel will turn. New opportunities will appear. Some of the things I enjoyed doing will be back, and some may either change or disappear. Like the rejections, I can either dwell on what’s lost, or shake it off and move on to the next one.
Shake Off the Fear and Fly
one of my early warning devices, it’s typically the first place that reacts to a mind being dragged into madness. It gets worse when the change I’m contemplating involves someone else, and I have to wait. I’ve never been good with anticipation, and it doesn’t matter if it’s for something amazing, or something terrifying (or both). My stomach dances the same frantic jig, perhaps because I’m simply lousy at waiting for anything. I’m of the “just rip off the band-aid and be done with it” point of view.
“Forward” is relative, too. At any point in time you stand at a crossroads where there are several options as to where to travel next. Each will take you in a different direction from which you might or might not be able to return. Yet in most cases, you can always return to the crossroads and choose differently should you hit a dead end with the choice you made.
with as little risk as possible. That didn’t mean I wasn’t trying to be my own boss, or that I didn’t have periods of unemployment. It meant I was willing to accept things like less time with my daughters, dancing to the whims of a boss who might not always make the most ethical choices, and taking jobs that were close to home, but a terrible fit. In hindsight, I paid a high price for that choice, but in the end, it allowed me to finally leave the rat race and take my time building my dream. It also meant re-envisioning that dream when I could bring in the non-financial factors.
potty train, when to feed yourself, when to crawl, when to walk, when to contribute to the household by doing chores…the list is endless. At what point do your expectations become your own instead of someone else’s? For some, the answer is “never”, while others take control over their lives much sooner. I’m one of the lucky ones who finally figured it out, though releasing the shackles of my upbringing took a lot of effort, and no small amount of pain.
Granted, not all children grow up in an environment that stifles their willingness to continue to try, and come back fighting after each failure. But our society has evolved to mimic the kind of parents who see all the failures, and ignore the efforts. It highlights, and even mocks the times you fall down, and never once recognizes or applauds the times you get back up, much less when you do succeed. Instead, it raises the bar just before you reach it, and mocks you for another failure.
responsibility off themselves—or so they believe. In truth, they still have the responsibility, but choose to deny it so they can blame someone else when they ultimately fail. What they’re really doing is making little to no effort because the goals they’re reaching for aren’t what they want. In a sense, they’re predisposed to failure, and may even like it that way. At the end of the day, they can hide behind an assertion that “it’s not my fault”, and blame someone else who had the audacity to take responsibility for themselves, and overcame the same basic odds.
That’s what happens when you have a large portion of society who believes they’re not responsible. They’re easily led because they want someone to tell them what to do; how to believe; and worse, who to blame. And you end up with lemmings who are willing to turn a blind eye and accept rhetoric like this:
Subscribe via RSS
Recent Comments