Worthlessness

I remember the day my mom was admitted to a mental institution. I was at school. A police car came & took her away. Glad I did not witness it with my own eyes.

We had a mile long black -topped driveway deep in the Ozark mountains. It was lined with beautiful trees. Vince, my stepfather, & I were taking out the garbage in his big white truck with royal blue seats. He casually said, “You stressed your mom out too much & you caused this mess.”

I slumped down in my seat & felt awful. I was only 15. I could not bear the weight of my mom’s mental illness, as I could barely bear the weight of being an impressionable teen. It was too much to carry.

Waves of shame & worthlessness overtook me. I felt like a bad girl.

I could hear my mom in my head reciting, “Thou Shall Honor Thy Parents.” I could see her eyes bulging, her eyes unblinking.

There are some things I wish I could unsee.

Perhaps I was too pushy, too loud, too needy, too emotional, too (fill in the blank), & supposedly, because of me, my mom had a nervous breakdown.

Never mind we lived In the woods. Never mind mom had just retired from teaching after 18 years. Never mind mom’s mom was mentally ill. Never mind mom was reading “Embraced by the Light.” Never mind mom was seeking her guardian angel, Michael, outside my window at all hours of the night, instead of sleeping. Never mind mom was singing “Holy Holy Holy,” over & over & over again. Never mind mom was not eating. Never mind mom was stabbing her leg with forks on her walks, & on the guest house porch, claiming defeat for the Lord against the big bad devil. Never mind that mom had no purpose, no job, no direction, & was living in the middle of nowhere. Never mind that schizophrenia runs in her family.

Nope, apparently, I caused the whole damn world to fall to the ground. I was just being me. I was being a teenager, a 15 year old girl, a typical 15 year old girl.

Something happens when one is blamed for adult issues: feelings of worthlessness, a feeling of falling short, that not good enough feeling, emptiness, loneliness, & one searches for their place in the world.

Vince was just venting- who did he have- no therapist or psychiatrist or counselor. & neither did I. No one asked how it made me feel to find my mom unconscious. No one asked me what it must have been like to have been told I was going to rot in hell. No one asked me what it was like to have a fully functional mom, one day, & then no mom figure the next.

But no one asked him what it must have been like either.

I wonder if he knew what that one conversation would do to my whole wide world. I wonder if he knew how that would make me question who I was, wondering if I had a legitimate place in this world, if I fulfilled the checklist of good enough, the negative labels I would bestow on myself, that I felt flawed / bad/ not a good kid, that I did not feel smart, & that I did not feel unique or celebrated in this big big world. Or how much I’d long for my vivacious mom to return. The loneliness I’d feel.

For years, I’ve searched high & low for why I have felt such strong feelings of worthlessness. & then, I was reading a favorite book of mine, for the 2nd time, & came across this:

“All dysfunction involves our deeply personalized interpretations of the events around us. The sad byproduct of this is that our children are left feeling they are the cause of our moods, which results in guilt & can lead to a sense of worthlessness. From this place, they then react back at us. It is crucial to recognize that the seeds of this equation lie in the initial judgement we make in response to their behavior.” The Conscious Parent by Shefali Tsabary, PhD

& when I read this, it’s as if a lightbulb switched on in my brain & I was taken right back to that hurt & frightened 15 year old girl. I realized it stemmed from that moment & a million & one more little moments, strung together, that always circled back around to the fact that I am worthless because of the causation of Mom’s mental illness.

Carrying the weight of my mom’s diagnosis & suffering just about did me in.

I can change the story to mean something else. I think Vince just did his best with the skill set & tool belt he had at the time. I have since forgiven my stepfather. It took about 20 years.

I can’t begin to imagine what it must have felt like for my stepfather to have a seemingly healthy wife for years & years & then, suddenly, she turned mad- threatening to divorce him, telling him he’s going to rot in hell, & stabbing herself with a fork, all the while her eyes bulging out of her head & losing weight by the day. The sheer horror & fear he must have felt- the helplessness he must have carried not being able to fix her. The weight of that had to have been damn near unbearable. So, of course, he was doing his very best to get through the day.

As a parent myself, I’ve learned that we have to reparent ourselves & be better than our parents. We need not repeat the patterns & cycles laid upon us. We stop the cycle & we do all we can to fix ourselves. We attend anger management, participate in regular counseling, participate in EMDR, attend therapy, go to acupuncture, & more. We fix us so we don’t put our stuff onto our children. Our children are gifted to us to teach us the lessons we never got as children ourselves. I get an education every single day as I make my way through this journey called motherhood.

Our kids deserve our very best, not our broken selves or the leftovers of our messed up childhoods. & we can’t carry around the burdens & weight of the past wrongdoings- the guilt & shame & hate & anger manifests itself & our children will be the sufferers of all that strife & it is not fair. We need to get the help we need to be our best for our children. Recognition is step one.

We must learn to let go & forgive, in order to live happily & better lives, so that our children can, too, live happy & better lives.

I catch myself in bad moods & I catch myself saying, “you are driving me crazy,” “you’re making me angry,” & more. No, I am making myself crazy & angry. Don’t put blame on your kids for your moods & actions- that’s on you. You figure out how to handle your moods, get better coping skills, take up yoga, but don’t you dare blame your innocent children, or else. There will be a price to pay. Trust me.

I’m figuring out how to love myself more & berate myself less. I’m learning that I am not responsible for the emotional well being of anyone but me. I am not responsible for making someone happy, that is on them. I am responsible for making me happy.

I know now that my stepdad did his best, that my mom didn’t choose mental illness- she’s not at fault, learning that I was just being me & that I was never ever  a bad girl. I was an impressionable 15 year old gal just feeling her way through life.

Worthiness is a birthright, not something that is earned or on a checklist of tasks. It was gifted & granted to us all the moment we were conceived. We’re miracles. & our worth can’t be taken away unless we allow it to be taken away. It’s ingrained in us. Sometimes we just need to be reminded it is there.

I will work on not placing my adult issues, my drama, or my moods onto our children. It’s hard enough being a child, let alone carrying the weight of our parents drama-filled crazy shenanigans. Let kids be kids. Give them grace. Let them be small. Let them be free.

I forgive my stepfather for putting the weight of mom’s mental illness on me, it started long before I was 15. Schizophrenia is in her genes, in her DNA & it reared it’s ugly head & manifested itself on a molecular / cellular level & I, most certainly, am not responsible for dna & cells & genes. No ma’am, no sir. & I will not take that on. Nope.

To my beloved readers for whom I adore & love:

I write in hopes that you may see yourself in my writing.

I write to heal. & hope you do the same.

I write to release. & hope you do the same.

I write to forgive. & I hope you do the same.

If there is something in your childhood, or anytime there after, that you were blamed for by your parents, unnecessarily & undeservingly, I pray you can release it, I pray you remove the burden, pray that you take off the shackles, & pray that you set yourself  free of the hurtful feelings of worthlessness & shame you may be holding onto.

Your parents were doing their very best at the time & all we can ever do is our very best.
I pray you forgive & let go, so you can live & be happy. I pray that you release the burden.

You are worthy.

You are worthy.

You are good enough.

You are good enough.