Three months since my last blog, and I was not expecting a social media meme to be this month’s inspiration. Nor was I expecting an interaction with a now former client to be the catalyst for releasing this betrayal of silence on so many fronts. That said, I have pondered what my October 2019 and 2026 selves would say to each other given the significant events of both. My current self would certainly assure my 2019 self (who had just bought and moved into a fixer-upper home all on her own) that she would get through a lot of stuff over the next 7 years – and come out stronger on the other side with hope for a brilliant future. My 2019 self would likely hardly believe whatever my current Self would choose to tell her about what is to come – including a pandemic and online dating. I know my 2019 Self would scoff at the idea of ever trying online dating! I am not sure how my 2019 Self would handle the news that in exactly 7 years my father would die.
It has been an emotional roller coaster ride since my dad suffered a supposedly minor stroke in September. The family drama that ensued is not the content of this blog; but it certainly played a role in what I am processing today about the betrayal of silence – and the silence of betrayal. Sit with that a moment to tease apart the subtle difference! What we don’t say can have as major an impact as what we do say. Empty apologies that hide rather than reveal. Questions dodged. Requests ignored. What occurred with the now former client triggered a trauma response rooted in family secrets and relationship dynamics – which could have been avoided if therapeutic protocols were given a chance to be followed. That is what feels like a betrayal. I wasn’t trusted to deal with the situation in a professional manner. I was excluded all together. Left in the dark. Kept outside. Much like I was my entire childhood.
Fast forward to the funeral that was held October 17th. It was a very difficult situation for me – not due to grief, but my autism. Fortunately, I had my emotional support dog, Abbie, with me who behaved beautifully and offered support to whomever needed it. Here comes the irony of evasion. Whenever I was asked why I had Abbie with me, I responded that it was for my anxiety, to keep me from spiralling. Which is absolutely true. What I wanted to say, but didn’t, was that I needed her support for my autism. I had this feeling that I would be viewed as if I had a horn growing out of my head if I admitted I was autistic – and be sucked into a conversation about justifying my autistic label. I was so blessed to have an old childhood friend there who absolutely could see my autistic traits then and now! How very validating! If only it had been given 50 years ago when my ‘symptom’ of pathological shyness was debilitatingly awkward and expected to ‘go away’ on its own. Granted, autism wasn’t a ‘thing’ in the 1970s. What pierced back then, was the silence.
I was never taught social skills – just shamed for being socially awkward. I was an embarrassment to my father whenever I ducked under his suit jacket to hide from people who came to talk with my dad in the foyer after church. I was very quiet and admonished to ‘speak up’ when I wanted to go unnoticed. I wanted an advocate, but was only met with disappointment. My childhood was complicated by the fact that my birth mother committed suicide the day after my 5th birthday – at this time of year. My mother was never spoken of after the funeral. And when I tried to learn more about her in my teen years, I was met with evasion. I didn’t know the truth of my mother’s death by suicide until I was 16 years old. That was 11 years of believing a story my brain had conjured up to fill in the gaps (which is a common phenomenon for childhood trauma). I sensed the shame surrounding my mother’s existence as well as her death – which stirred an existential crisis within me for many years. It was like my birth mother didn’t exist – which impacted how I perceived my own existence.
The secret of my birth mother was broken at my dad’s funeral when the slide show included two photos of my birth mother. She really did exist. There was an audible gasp in the sanctuary when the last photo was shown – and later, I was repeatedly told how much I look like her. Yes. My mother existed – and therefore now I can. The betrayal of silence because people didn’t know how to share necessary information in an age-appropriate way, adding information as I matured. The literal and figurative silence of that betrayal. And here is the tricky part. Sometimes we do hold back information because total honesty would be more harmful than the partial ‘truth.’ Social niceties dictate we do not comment on certain looks or behaviours. We amend what we say due to circumstances and cultural expectations. We hold our tongue. Knowing what to say and when to say it is tricky business – even trickier for those with neurodivergent traits, particularly missing social cues or tending toward accuracy over nuance.
Another overlap between recent and past betrayals – I wasn’t given a chance to handle the information. Someone else decided for me. It is one thing not to provide information because it simply isn’t someone else’s business, or to protect someone from your own mistakes. It is another to purposefully evade answering questions (both then and now). A betrayal of trust through silence. The echoing silence of unknowns underpinning the betrayal. Lies of omission come in many forms with very different repercussions – some beneficial, some harmful – especially the omissions with the intention of being beneficial that turn out harmful. The added salt to the open wound, or the twist of the knife, is the gaslighting that tries to back pedal or downplay the harm done. My OCD has a field day with that one – questioning everything, ruminating ad nauseum because there are no answers – just that echoing silence.
I now have the opportunity to release all those betrayals of silence – well intended or not – that kept me in the dark. The silences in my childhood, my marriage, friendships, and working relationships. The overthinking that fills the void but accomplishes nothing. My OCD makes a lot more sense viewed through this lens which enables me to shut it down faster. This adjusted perspective allows me to choose how to address the silence if so inclined, or let it rest as having served its purpose. I can let it go. I can move forward without it hanging over my head or weighing down my heart. I can stop the incessant rumination trying to figure things out, make sense of the senseless, spinning my wheels.
I anticipated writing about much different healing moments surrounding the death and funeral of my father. Evidently the Universe had other plans. 😉 Catalysts creep up when you least expect them, and come in unexpected forms. I guess I have my former client to thank for that (silver lining hidden in the silent betrayal). But if we allow the catalyst to do its thing, what emerges out the other side can be a pleasant surprise. I know I am embarking on a completely new chapter of my journey. I can feel it in my body as well as my psyche and spirit. I have no idea where this plot twist is headed; but one thing can be sure, it will be another page turner! And it’s probably a good thing that my 2033 self can’t give me any hints. 😊
The past 2 months have been quite revelatory for me which has taken some time to process. Reading over journal entries was in itself cause for further reflection. As much as I am an open book in my blog, I tend to keep details private. However, context is needed to make sense of these self-revelations. A 10-month dating situation ended the first week of June that prompted a regression to my teen years (being a hopeless disappointment). I still miss the man and his teenage daughter; but I know both the relationship(s) and its ending are for my best.
One of the first observations I made was this: “I don’t know how to be in a relationship just for me. I don’t know if it exists. I am always fucking accommodating someone. I don’t know how to show up any other way…I’m totally okay with sacrificing my happiness for the well-being of others. Done that my entire life.”
A couple days later I noted, “I overfunction trying to prevent bad things from happening.” And the following day, “It’s hard for me not to rationalize away the sadness. I must stop overthinking…Just because people choose not to put in the effort does NOT mean I’m not worth it…Core belief to assess: my life only has meaning in service to others. Most people don’t value this belief. I don’t know what the alternatives are. My life has meaning simply because I am here. I choose to make it more meaningful by helping others. But first it has to have meaning ‘as is.’”
On June 11th I wrote, “I can make the world a better place just by being in it. I don’t have to fix a damn thing… My presence may light the way for some, not everyone. I remain a very flawed human myself who needs others to light the way on occasion as well – oddly, sometimes by the lack of the light. Darkness also indicates the way to go at times – either to avoid it or hide in it.” I go on to talk about getting my pattern (trauma bonding and overfunctioning) out of my system. Like my abuse recovery clients, I, too, select less harmful options each time I venture out into the dating pool. At the end of this entry, I declared, “I will no longer make myself small for someone, nor tolerate bullshit once I see it.” Of course, this will take more practice. It is not learned overnight.
I first learned about over/under functioning from reading Harriet Lerner’s The Dance of Anger (1985) – a concept based in Bowen Family Systems Theory. In a nutshell, overfunctioning is doing too much for people, and underfunctioning is not doing enough for ourselves – and usually getting upset when the desired results aren’t achieved. Given my upbringing, I swoop in to the save day when others do not manage their own emotions, fulfill obligations, complete basic tasks, etc (whether it is asked of me or not). Don’t get me wrong, I am also capable of underfunctioning – like not speaking up when I am uncomfortable or avoiding tasks that I feel ill-equipped to tackle (for example, back when I was married, I let my husband drive in the city because I was too scared/intimidated to learn – until I had to for medical appointments as he couldn’t always take off work to chauffeur me).
The other key pattern is trauma bonding – not the variety involving bonding over trauma, but the abusive kind which is a little less straightforward – when a person is sucked into a seesaw-like exchange of good and bad. In my case, the trauma bonding and overfunctioning go hand-in-hand. At one point I noted in my journal, “I had to get sucked-in in order to bear witness to my present and my past. And to understand that trauma bonding never wins or works. It acted like a real-life object lesson.” Some people describe it as a transactional relationship – needs met in exchange for certain behaviours.
My trauma-bonding and overfunctioning is complicated by OCD which is convinced, “If I don’t get it right, bad things will happen.” I compulsively overfunction to prevent bad things from happening such as rejection or disconnection from others. My brain also assumes my needs won’t be met if I don’t overfunction (imprinting from my childhood and adolescence that to have a chance of having a need met, I had to overfunction). This chance at having a need met is the trauma bonding and is reinforced when, on occasion, a need is met to some degree.
Add to these patterns, the inner child’s plea: “I will be who you want me to be – just love me.” Hence, I keep trying to twist and contort myself in exchange for safety and security with another person (transactional relationship). Near the end of June, I was able to note, “I don’t need to do that anymore. I am safe with myself.” This is crucial inner child work – feeling safe with oneself. My inner child is no longer trauma-bonded with anyone. I can reparent her to feel safe and secure with my adult self. I will protect her and make sure her needs are met – out of love and respect, for no other reason or hidden agenda. Self-care becomes inner child work when we quit demanding more of ourselves than is feasible, quit pushing ourselves to perform beyond limits of body, mind, or spirit.
By July, my journal entries shifted into self-acceptance and taking responsibility for self-care and safety. On the first of July, I was able to write: “How empowering it is to own and take responsibility for my fragility and sensitivity. My true authentic self. I don’t need to hide it or be somebody else. I am no longer a vulnerable child, dependent upon authority figures…I am completely and wholly my own person – who longs for connection and belonging – but is no longer willing to sacrifice or hide my true nature for said connection and belonging.” A week later, I was able to process the need for a relationship in terms of thriving (functioning at my full potential) rather than survival (being insufficient or incapable of managing on my own).
Throughout the month of July, I wrote statements such as:
“Needing a partner is not a sign of failure or weakness.”
“I do not need to overfunction to get my needs met.”
“Speaking up rather than swallowing my words as a safety measure.”
“I must reset my nervous system to speak up when I am uncomfortable.”
“Transforming my core of shame into something bright & beautiful, strong & fiercely fabulous, becoming fabulously fierce. That is the real glow up.”
“I truly want to engage with someone – not coax, convince, cajole, or contort myself in anyway – nor them.”
“My value is not dependent upon functioning. It is about Be-ing.”
And from social media courtesy of ‘CPTSD Explained By Liza:’ “The nervous system heals in connection because it was wounded in connection.”
My Internal Family System (see Nov 2024 ) is doing ‘its thing’ absorbing and assimilating this new framework with plenty of resistance from my Inner Critic represented by Owl in the Winnie-the-Pooh cast of characters. I know he means well, trying to protect me from disappointment. The irony is, he’d rather have me accept ‘life sucks’ before it even has a chance to glow up. Life is full of disappointments; but I don’t have to pre-empt any of them. That keeps me stuck and unempowered. Life is meant to be enjoyed, not endured. A concept Owl is not entirely comfortable with yet. He’s better at fiercely independent endurance than joyful, hopeful, vulnerable authenticity.
What about you? How are you managing the ups and downs of life? What core beliefs are being challenged? What opportunities for ‘glow up’ have you encountered? Feel free to submit a comment or send an email.
This month’s blog is actually from a mid-May journal entry. Not that June hasn’t provided plenty of material for blogging! But I am still processing it, and this entry was a contender for May and remains relevant. The journal entry started with: “Mind blowing realization on the walk this morning. Sitting on the back deck in the finally warm sunshine with my tea and Abbie. She, of course, insisted we sit outside. 😊 Such a creature of habit – but then, so am I. Such different reasons for journalling than a year ago!” What follows is an edited version of that entry.
My morning discovery had to do with how autistic I am. 😉 My research [during Master of Arts studies] on Avoidant Personality Disorder was really an attempt to understand my unrecognized autism. Makes so much sense now! Like a lens has been sharpened or a window cleaned. “Getting it right” has been both autism and OCD: to know what is expected of me, the rules, etc. Which prompted me to ponder the relationship between religion and all its rules and autism.
At first, I thought they might be a good fit – and then I recognized why not: the rules are always shifting; it is not cut and dried, doesn’t seem to apply to all participants equally; and when the rules don’t make sense, neurodivergents find it confusing. My OCD wouldn’t let me reject the inconsistent or nonsensical rules outright. But now that I can, it is very liberating. My autism wanted to follow the rules so I wouldn’t feel the angst of being uncertain of what was expected of me. My OCD was afraid of getting into trouble.
No wonder my brain and body are worn out trying to assess every single situation. Neurodivergence also explains my conflicted relationship with change. I can adapt to some major life changes like moving across the country better than when stores change their layout or different staff greet me. I like that I know my physician’s receptionist. She was on lunch break when I was there last; and I found that slightly unsettling. I am getting better at adapting. It didn’t throw me for a loop. Not as badly as forgetting the pill bottle and having to turn around to get it. But I kept myself from escalating which is not insignificant.
Conducting a family meeting was also a reminder why I don’t do adolescent or family therapy. I am too straightforward. I don’t pick up social cues – just emotional ones. I am constantly trying to ascertain what is expected of me. Boggles my mind how some people move through life with ease. Makes sense why I’m so tired – especially after social interactions. It’s not just a trauma-bond, learned behaviour. It is also autism trying to get it right.
I’ve come a long way since my indecisive teen and young adult years! I remember the angst of making a choice or stating a preference – had to know what everyone else thought/wanted first. Not just for fear of judgement, or not rocking the boat, or rejection sensitivity – but not knowing what was expected or “right. Back to reflecting upon religion, it blows my mind how ‘the church’ neglects basic kindness and common courtesy. Yet autistics generally understand those “rules” – except when combined with narcissism like Sheldon from Big BangTheory.
Now I understand why I lost interest in hosting dinner parties – too exhausting. Too many unspoken expectations/rules. I was trying to create connections and sense of belonging. All I got was stress and the occasional pat on the back. The return on investment diminished. It couldn’t prove my worth, or validate my existence, or generate belonging. I was trying to follow the rule of “family gathering.” I did make people feel loved and included. But at what cost to myself?
I wonder if there will ever be a time that I don’t have to try so hard? I’m autistic; so I never know if I’m doing the right thing. No wonder I am so dependent upon ‘external validation.’ I need concrete feedback just to function. However, I need to separate that from personal worth and value. No wonder us neurodivergents struggle with worthiness. We are constantly challenged on that subject. And seldom get usable feedback with kindness and acceptance.
All that time thinking my brain was broken, it was wired differently and lacked proper production of the neurotransmitters serotonin and dopamine. I survived on relief – when the job got done or crisis averted/resolved. Always asking: Am I of use? Am I of benefit to others? Very layered. From people pleasing coping mechanism to religious rule to personal value system. Other people are “just here” to get the most out of life – whatever that means to them. Others are eking out their existence just doing what needs to be done.
What is anyone’s driving force? Is it external or internal? Mine is shifting from primarily external to more internal – aligned with who I am. Not simply survival, but thriving. I’ve had glimpses. And I had to walk away from my religion and my marriage in order to achieve that. That makes me sad as well as relieved. Feels like so much wasted time. Can’t change the trajectory of my life. Yet so glad that heaviness that I carried well into my adult years has lifted. I can’t remember a time when it wasn’t there. It has eased incrementally. The religious and marital oppression is also gone. I can think for myself now. I have shed so much garbage: from within and without.
I guess this is a post about self-acceptance. I know that June has been about not pushing myself so hard; and I sense that it has a lot to do with this. We’ll see what surfaces or gets adequately processed in the coming weeks. May you all have a wonderful summer being driven by whatever force keeps you going. Feel free to share any reflections you have upon self-acceptance and driving forces.
