An Appropriate Level of Detachment

I've been thinking about emotional investments lately. 
In the childhood the Crazymaker's created for me, I learned to invest the lion's share of my feelings and actions in other people's metaphorical banks.  It was my job to care about what happened to NM, EF, OS and YB... and Jesus... and strangers... and acquaintances at any cost, and certainly I was supposed to care about what happened to everyone else in the world more than what happened to me.  I was trained to intuitively determine the needs of those around me and to always, always, always fill those needs.  Regardless of my own needs, wants, desires, hopes, dreams, thoughts, opinions, beliefs, it was my job to slap on the happy face and do whatever it took to satisfy those around me.

I did this willingly as a young girl, because NM promoted 'grace through selflessness' and I wanted so badly to please.  I don't know that a non-ACON can really understand the dichotomy this particular part of the dysfunction creates.  It's difficult to explain to DH or the other normies in my life that I was molded from ... well, from forever... to please the Narcs.  It's hard to explain that from the beginning of time I was taught that I was worthless unless I was 'giving' of myself to those around me.  It's hard to explain that I was conditioned to believe that if I didn't go along to get along, it was made clear to me that I would no longer be loved. 

Every little boy or girl wants to be loved, it's human nature to crave closeness.  Being loved is how we learn who we are.  Being loved is how we define the world.  I was absolutely invested as a little girl in obtaining and holding onto the love that was dangled in my face as a means of control.  I'm reminded of a line from the 90's movie The Crow, where the main character says to another character's mother (as he squeezes the heroin out of her veins,) "Mother is the word for God on the lips of all children."  (I have an inkling that this line is originally from a different source, but I'm not sure.)

And that was true for me, as I imagine it is for a lot of small children.  Until it wasn't anymore.  The conditional 'love' that was offered to me based on my daily performance of slow spirit and soul suicide created such a warped perception of love.  Love, I learned, is painful.

Eventually I rebelled against the pain-inducing Narcs, and I started telling the truth - about me, about them, about my newly enlighted sense of what love should be.  You know, that love should be, well, loving.  You can imagine how that was received.  Instead of being subtly insulted daily because, to them, I was unworthy but at least I could be counted on to do their dirty work and take care of their needs, I became an outcast.  When I stopped being useful to them, they wrote me off. 

 I graduated from high school with a 3.47 honors GPA - a month after I turned 17, having skipped the 8th grade - while drunk, so imagine what I could have done with a little help.  And no one in my FOO had even bothered to talk to me about college, other than to tell me that I wouldn't be able to count on them for any financial support.  Three years later they gave OS a check for ten grand for her educational expenses - I know this for a fact because they couldn't be bothered to mail it, so asked me to courier it to her on one of my trips to the town she was living in at the time. 

So, when I stopped doing what they wanted me to do with consistency, they basically just stopped supporting me in any way.  They couldn't be bothered.  I became invisible.  Again, I don't know that a normal person who grew up in a 'normal' family can understand how absolutely devastating this is to a child's soul.  See, I thought, they really don't love you.  People aren't built to endure that kind of torture.

So, I became numb.  When I got to the point that I couldn't dull the pain on my own anymore, I tried to drink it away, and that worked for me for a long time.  All the pain was still there after I sobered up the next day, but at least I had some escape from it while I was off in the never never land of alcoholism.  Until the booze quit working, and no matter how much I poured into the void inside me, it didn't fill me up (it never really had,) and it didn't stop the pain anymore even on a temporary basis.

I got sober.  I got healthy (-er.)  I felt my feelings, good and bad, and the affect emotion that came flowing out after all those years I'd 'bottled' (pun intended, hee hee!) them up was overwhelming.  I was just a walking raw nerve for a long time.  Thank goodness I'd already gone NC, I don't know how I would have survived that conflagration of feeling if the FOO had been allowed any access at the time.  I am sure that they would have been absolutely delighted to see me unravelled, though. Boy was I a mess; up and down and up and down and up and down.  My pendulum swung far and wide in those days.

Once I made it through the first stages and relearned how to experience feelings, or at least how to recognize them and begin to use the tools I'd acquired to stay more in the middle of the swing, I had some relief.  I started to develop an understanding of my feelings.  I was angry at the FOO.  Previously I'd have just gotten drunk in response to that, or I'd have reacted, possibly violently, or I'd have denied that I felt angry (upset used to be one of my favorite words.)  Thankfully, I was able to finally recognize that I was angry because I'd been mistreated.  I should have been angry.  It was a relief to finally feel the appropriate feeling that the situation dictated.  Normal!  Yay!

Now, most of the time, I've developed what I believe is an appropriate level of understading when it comes to my feelings.  I know when I'm over-reacting and I stop.  I know when I'm under-reacting and I find out why.  I hardly ever push myself off an emotional cliff anymore over trivial matters, and I am able to experience the emotions that I have as the emotions that they are, without guilt or confusion.

But, when it comes to the FOO, particularly NM, I don't think I'll ever be able to truly understand some of their actions or some of my feelings toward them.  I do know that, these days, I feel a strong level of detachment when it comes to them.

Often, I just don't truly care what's happening in their lives, how they're feeling, who they've bribed to do all their dirty work these days since I'm not around.  Maybe it's none of my business, or maybe I just really don't give a rip. 

Either way, I'm glad I don't have to be invested in them like I used to.  It's nice to invest in me, and in the people who truly care about me and whom I truly love. 

Love,
Vanci