"B" Stands For Bitch and Birthday

    A week ago today, last Wednesday, was my mother's birthday.  With the very limited contact we have had over the past year and a half, with a LOT of coldness on her part, I haven't been sure what to do about the upcoming holiday season (I'm sure I will end up posting about what happened last year as it gets ever closer).  My mind has been mulling that one over quite a bit and I hadn't considered her birthday quite as much.  If we didn't live in such close proximity to her I think it would be easier; as it happens, we live about a mile away and it takes about 15 minutes to walk to her house.  So mailing a card seemed weird, which it would not if we didn't live in the same area.  The way she has acknowledged our birthdays for the last year has been to put a card on our door, so I wondered if I should do that.  Then there was the question of whether or not to include a gift.  For years I spent time and money trying to find the "perfect" gift, whether spending more money than I could really afford or spending a lot of time making something that probably was much more of a labor of love to me than any amount of appreciation she felt for what I did.

    A huge part of me just wanted to let the day pass and not do anything, but I have chosen up to this point to keep up appearances as far as doing minimum acknowledgments.  I haven't written an official letter to her stating that I don't want contact, so at this point it's "limited contact." Nothing verbally has been said along these lines; it's all unspoken and truthfully, at this point I'm kind of following her cue.  I tried being gracious last year at the holidays and this past year with Mother's Day and she has been extremely cold.

    So last Monday my daughter and I went to the dollar store to look at cards (I refuse to spend more than that on some sappy, beautiful card that is nothing but lies and add to the self-deception she has going on). We looked through them, joking about some and finally settling on a humorous one that said something to the effect of letting the diet go and treating yourself, and I got a tray of small Hershey bars to go with it.  My daughter bought her a Cherry Coke and a package of Mambas, saying there was some sentimental value there because when she was little and we would go to a particular church-related event, the only thing that made it bearable to her was that Grandma had Mambas in her purse and would give them to her and our son.  When we first went into the store I saw some cute autumn-colored ceramic bowls and thought of getting one, putting treats in it and wrapping it up cute with cellophane and ribbon (I'm one of those craft girls).  My daughter said, "It seems to me that that wouldn't be a good idea since it would give encouragement to someone you really don't want anything to do with."  I had so much conflict inside over what was enough, if I was being a terrible daughter, should I be planning to pay her a visit and try to smooth things over, was I being petty and if I wasn't was it LOOKING petty to not do more, etc. Also thinking to myself that I wouldn't want my children alienating me later in life; was this the kind of treatment I was setting up for myself by doing this?

    When we got home I had a full-blown panic attack.  I was so agitated. I couldn't focus, I felt sick, I was became so tired that it was hard to move. I felt like I had a vice around my head and that there was a weight pushing on top of it.  It culminated in a migraine aura at 3:00 a.m.  At first I didn't make the connection between the aura and the panic attack but realized that it happened as I was coming off the panic attack.  It was scary to have that much of my vision obstructed.  The next day I felt better but realized that my body was showing me that I need to take my boundaries with her very seriously.  If that was the reaction I was getting just from considering talking to her or seeing her, then I definitely need to not do that.  How much louder does my system have to scream at me?  If it wasn't a parent then maybe it would be different.  I have that "honor your parents" thing so firmly rooted as something that good people do that it really does hurt me to feel like I'm not doing that.  I have to remind myself over and over of something a former therapist told me, and that is that you bring honor to your parents through the way you live your life.  I even have to rework that in my brain to clarify to myself that that is not why I choose to live a good life; I try to live my life with integrity and goodness because that is who I am and the kind of person I want to be, not because I'm trying to make my parents look good.

    My daughter alleviated a lot of stress that next day when I was mulling over how to deliver the card and treats when she said, "I'll walk over and visit her for a few minutes and take it over (she did this a couple of months ago one day without me knowing it and I was really surprised because she has had a lot of painful Grandma issues to work through. She said it went surprisingly well and she felt good about doing it because it was on her terms); I haven't visited for a couple of months and I was going to show her the dress I used the birthday money she gave me towards anyway."  She also said she would tell her I had to go out of town for a meeting and suggested I call one of my friends who lives in a nearby town and go to dinner so she wasn't lying. LOL

    The Big Day turned out to be a good day.  When I woke up I didn't feel good about my daughter visiting with her and had the distinct feeling that she might be greeted with coldness because if my mother was angry that I wasn't there it was very likely that she would take it out on her.  I told her that and so we decided to go to lunch and drop the stuff off in a little gift bag on her porch before she got home.  We had such a nice time having lunch together and I was so thankful for her support through the day!  After that we came home and rested for a couple of hours (I didn't sleep well the night before and still felt drained from the anxiety attack) before meeting my friend for dinner.

    This friend was a particularly wonderful choice for going out with because she has the same kind of mother I do.  We met sometime ago through a support group and have met for lunch a couple of times.  Her husband works nights and so I knew there would be a possibility that she couldn't get together for dinner, but she said that it just so happened that he had that night off.  It was so cool that it worked out that way.  We met at The Cracker Barrel for dinner and talked for about two and a half hours.  She insisted that we get cake and ice cream for dessert, and I thought that it was so awesome that that was how I was "celebrating" my mother's birthday.  Her mother's birthday was in July so it was therapeutic for her, too.  We decided that we need to do this every year on our mother's birthdays.  My outlook as I drove home was 100% better than it was before; it helped so much to be able to talk with someone who "gets it."

    Another good thing that came out of the night was her telling me more about her therapist.  I have felt for a little while that maybe I should start seeing someone again so I have that extra source of support, as well as a sounding board as I work through things, but have been hesitant to start therapist shopping.  It's been several years and the one I was seeing passed away a couple of years ago.  He was excellent and helped me with a lot of things, including boundary setting.  Knowing now that narcissism is part of the package I'm dealing with, as well as needing someone who really understands the effects on a person who has a narcissistic parent and won't minimize them, has made me kind of dread the process of finding a therapist who fits.  As my friend told me more about her therapist I felt this would be a good person for me to see.  It's a woman, she understands narcissism, understands complex PTSD (which I am very certain I have but there are a lot of therapists who aren't buying into it as being a real condition or one that needs to be treated differently than the more commonly acknowledged version of PTSD), and as she talked about her approaches and methods I felt really good about it.  I came away having enjoyed uplifting company, a good chef salad, the best chocolate cake I think I have ever had in my life (Cracker Barrel Coca-Cola Chocolate Cake, How Do I Love Thee?  Let Me Count the Ways! Holy freaking cow, if cake could be candy that one is it), an enjoyable time looking around the store afterward, and a business card with her therapist's contact information.

    Oh, I forgot to add that my mom didn't get the little Hershey bars in the bag because I ate them.  Defiantly.  It felt good. When all was said and done, once that stupid gift bag was on her porch I never looked back.

    I did get a text from my mother the next day saying thanks for the treats and that "the thought was nice."  A lot of people wouldn't see anything wrong with that but those who deal with this kind of person recognize the barb that was included.  By saying "The thought was nice" she was also saying, "But the gift was not."

    Pretty sure I need to go no contact, but I'm not internally strong enough at this point to do it on my own.  The more my friend and I talked at dinner the more I realized that I felt happy with the way I was choosing to handle the night. I loved how free I felt.  This is an issue I plan on working on when I start with this therapist.

Dressing My Truth

    A little while after I posted yesterday I kept having the thought come to me to go into my email and finish watching a free series of video clips I signed up to receive about a month/month and a half ago.  I have a friend who suggested this series to me and some other friends and said it had made a world of difference in seeing, understanding and accepting herself.  The system is called Dressing Your Truth by Carol Tuttle.  I watched the first two a few weeks ago but hadn't gone back to it.  I really liked what I saw.

    So yesterday I went back in and finished the remaining several video clips and it was so good.  I had a strong sense of which Type I am and had a really interesting emotional response.  In a huge way I was immediately drawn to it and excited, but in another way I didn't want to admit that I'm a Type 1.  I realized that the reason for that was that the attributes in Type 1 are things that I have felt criticized for.  I've known for a long time that the natural brightness and joyfulness I had as a child enraged some people and it made me a target for people who decided that they needed to break me.  During times I've lived true to myself I have had people in my life who have seemed compelled to try and tear me down and rework me into something more "acceptable" by their standards.  I rarely felt that being who I am was acceptable and have been trying to fit into a type that is more "mature" or "organized."  Type 1 characteristics have felt like major flaws.

    It's amazing to me how beautifully learning about this and understanding it better ties in to other things I've been learning and working on.  I think God wants us to understand that how He made us individually is perfect and to embrace that because within that we find our greater purpose.  I've been told that I was sent here to be a cycle breaker and to help others heal, and that part of helping others to do that is for me to show through my joyfulness what healing looks like.  That has seemed too huge sometimes because the process is hard at times.  But I'm understanding more and more that a big part of my personal healing is learning to return to joy and getting there, even knowing how ugly the world can be.  Understanding the naturally bright and joyful aspect of being Type 1 confirmed to me that the answer really is within myself because that's how I was in the first place.  I think I've been trying to fit myself into Type 4 because so many strengths in that type reflect where my deficits are.

It's pretty beautiful to see how all the types compliment each other through their strengths if one isn't hung up on insisting that others be the same as them.  I can see where the world could become such a beautiful, harmonious place through just honoring each person for who they are.  In a group with a common goal, it would be optimal to have people from all four types working together with honor and respect for each others' strengths, because together they would be able to accomplish so much more than they could individually, or with one type controlling everyone and insisting that they function the same way they do.

    This was a nice way to end my day last night, and my heart didn't feel as broken.  My outlook has been better today.  I'm glad I paid attention to and followed through on that nudge I felt to finish the video clips.  I think every woman should at least take a look at this to see if it resonates.  If you go to the link below it will take you to where you can sign up to receive the free introductory videos, and they send one a day to your email.  To learn more specifically about various aspects of your type you can buy the whole system and they will send an offer to buy it for $95.00, which makes you a member for life.  I'm not able to do that at this point but you can still learn a lot from the introductory videos and following her blog and other resources. I found a lot on Pinterest on what types of clothing, jewelry, etc. are complimentary for my type.

http://dressingyourtruth.com/

How To Hurt

    I am hurting a lot today.  My heart is very, very sad.

    I'm still learning how to do grief and pain.  For a long time I have used food to mask it when it comes up; some people drink, do drugs, or have other coping behaviors.  The religion I was brought up in discourages use of alcohol, so the "good girl" version of addictive behavior for me is reaching for comfort food when I feel sad.

    I didn't realize for a long time that I was doing this; a lot of times I just felt this compulsion to eat.  I did go through a period of time where I overate, a LOT.  I have lost about 60 pounds and don't generally overeat as far as volume goes, but darned if I don't eat the wrong things when I'm not in a good emotional state. What I realized over time was that not only was I eating in response to feeling sad, but when I did so I literally did feel better emotionally. There was a chemical change that took place and I didn't hurt as much. There are a few reasons why, although in the short-term I feel better when I do this, it's not a good idea. First, not good for my health.  Food may always be there for me, but. . .it's always there for me.  Like, it stays on the hips and stomach.  I also don't want diabetes and I still need to lose more weight.  Second, when food deadens the pain, it doesn't get rid of it; it stuffs it back down. There is still a residual ache, and it's just a matter of time before it comes back up.  I also learned over time that when I felt that pain or sudden anxiety/panic, etc. that was my system indicating that something was coming up for processing, so masking it and stuffing it back down wasn't allowing me to do the healing work my system was indicating it was ready for.

    I've been told that I've never seen grief through all the way.  If you visualize being on one side of a lake with the lake symbolizing the grief process and needing to get across the lake to the other side, I've never gotten to the other side.  I have usually gotten about halfway across the lake and then gotten stuck, then go back to the side I just came from rather than continuing through the water to the other side--so I've been carrying a huge amount of grief around with me throughout my life.  Part of the reason is that growing up it wasn't safe for me to express what I needed to and I have carried that nonexpression into my adult life. Besides eating, there are other ways to distract yourself from feeling grief.  Shopping, staying "too" busy, hyperfocusing on other things or the needs of other people, etc.  I'm the poster child for all of this.

    One thing I hate about trauma-related healing work is that when I'm processing something hard and then get to where I feel like I'm in a pretty good place, it's not long before I start feeling that old feeling again ("that old feeling" can show up in many ways for me: a sudden feeling of panic or anxiety that seems to come out of nowhere, feeling a sudden compulsion to stay overly busy all the time, compulsions to stay up all night and not let myself sleep, feelings of depression and hopelessness when I've been fine and taking steps to support feeling that way on an ongoing basis, sabotaging myself on the eating front when I've otherwise been doing really well) and something else comes up.  There are so many layers.  Sometimes I feel like it will never be done.

    I went to the pool late this morning and did water aerobics; I always feel better after I've been in the water. Besides the exercise, I find that I am able to literally release a lot of stress into the water. Even if I have a day where I don't do a great "workout," I still feel better just from being in the water.  As I was changing, etc. afterward I was keenly aware of this pain.  This past weekend was a major conference event at church where there were many speakers and I found some of the talks to be just what I needed to hear.  But other talks hurt.

    One of the age-old questions that comes up about God is why He allows pain and suffering, and this is why a lot of people don't believe that there can be a God.  The explanation I hear and that makes sense to me is that God can't interfere with our free agency and that learning to use our agency is one of the reasons we are here on earth. Intellectually I get it, but I am having the hardest time with the fact that sometimes there is intervention. Sometimes people do get strong promptings that help them avoid danger.  I was in danger from the time I was born, and I was in an environment that made me vulnerable to further abuse and being used by other people. I wasn't protected.  Furthermore, these circumstances conditioned me to not readily trust my instincts when they signaled to me that something was wrong, and so throughout my life I have had poorer boundaries than the average person and have been more vulnerable to opening myself up to unhealthy people and situations.

    Many people would be quick to point out that God has helped me persevere through everything, and generally I'm part of that group. But a huge part of me feels so betrayed by that same God who I have tried to put my trust in my whole life.  As an adult one of my sole, constant prayers was for my children to be protected, and while we gave them a better home environment in a lot of ways, I have learned of abuses that happened to them.  To me, that has been the ultimate slap in the face.  With all that I endured, I just wanted my children to be safe and well, and it feels to me like God just turned his head the other way and said, "Ummm, let me think about it. . .actually, no. There are other people who are more important than you, so that's where I'm going to direct my attention."  Sometimes I hate God.  And then I feel guilty because that's not showing faith in Him, and then I feel that being that way makes it so I'm not as worthy to be blessed as someone who doesn't have these feelings.

    One of the constant things that comes up when I'm hurting is this feeling that I don't matter, that I'm an afterthought, that by my nature I'm not as worthwhile as other people.  The message I got from my mother early on was that my very existence wasn't acceptable.  So many people have always seen me as a project that they needed to fix, or someone to feel sorry for.  Very rarely was I built up or allowed to "just be."

Folding Towels

    As I was reading through the article on escapism that I just posted, it brought some examples to mind of weird, over-the-top things I would get screamed at or punished for.

    It might seem weird that the author refers to it being "wrong" if a target doesn't have the same personal tastes as the controlling person, or that to the controller tasks have to be done "their way" to be "right."  Well yeah, it's weird.  It's weird because it really happens and being on the receiving end of it is completely bizarre.

    Let's talk about bathroom towels.  Folding them, to be more specific.  I have been folding laundry since I was four or five (my first job was to fold the cloth baby diapers).   At some point between the ages of 8 and 12 I started folding towels, as well.  I'm not sure why they weren't included earlier, but I remember watching my mom fold towels and being kind of enchanted with the way she did it.  She did and still does a more elaborate fold than a lot of people, similar to how they do it in hotels.   When the job got turned over to me she showed me how to do it and went upstairs.  I set to work folding them but because it was a complicated process I got it wrong but didn't realize it.  I was excited to show her the good job I was doing when she came downstairs to check on my work and she had a complete screaming fit about the sloppy job I had done.  It was all about how unless it was done this particular way it looked trashy, people who don't fold them this way don't care about how things look and I was belittled for not getting it right.  Never mind that maybe I just needed to do it under her guidance a few times for it to set in to my brain.  Better yet, just don't worry about it and just thank the child for the towels getting folded, however they're doneIt was pretty devastating to me and I practiced and practiced until I got it right and it was second nature to me to fold them that way.

    Imagine my shock when I had roommates and later a husband who, not one of them, folded their towels the "right way."  My husband was actually really proud of the way he folded towels because he had figured out on his own how to fold them the way the hotels do (my mom's way looks pretty but is a different technique). He was folding laundry one day and I was like, "Why did you fold the towels like that?  That's not the right way to fold them."  That was one of our stupid "which way should the toilet paper hang" discussions that newlyweds have, and now I feel really bad about that.  His way looks very pretty, as well (actually I think it looks even nicer than her way), but there is this compulsion with me that they HAVE to be folded the other way because I got in so much trouble for them not being perfectly done in that manner. At one time several years ago I started purposely folding them the way my husband did just to try and break free from the feeling of being controlled, but old habits die hard.  I think I may try that again, telling myself that "This is the pretty way that some nice people like to fold their towels." It's so stupid, really.  It doesn't matter.  How ridiculous is it that a 46-year old woman feels like she needs to purposely fold towels differently from her mother just to make a point?  It's not like she knows what my linen closet looks like, she's not going to be in my house to check it, etc.

As I got older I found towels folded the "wrong way" in the linen closet and she would wave it off, saying that one of my siblings did it and not to sweat it.  And THAT is just one more element to why things seemed so bizarre to me.  Rules that applied to me, whether they made sense or not and with no allowance for variation regardless of my aptitude, the age appropriateness or whatever, did not apply to others.  You know, because it wasn't bizarre enough in the first place just to deal with her version of what was "right"--switch it up so that it's only "right" some of the time and for certain people.

Escapism and Avoidance

    I haven't written about one aspect of the puzzle that is my mother yet, and that is narcissism.  I am planning on writing more in-depth at some point on how I came to that realization, but in the meantime wanted to share this article someone from a support group I belong to shared.  It really struck a chord with me and explains really well what I did to cope with my environment growing up.  It is taken from the Sanctuary For Wellness And Recovery page on Facebook:

    "One of the coping behaviors targets of Controllers often develop is “escapism” and avoidance.  This behavior is a survival mechanism, where the brain is trying to preserve the person’s Self and ability to be autonomous.  Autonomy is essential to a human’s survival, without it we can literally die, because we lose the ability to care for ourselves properly and make survival actions and decisions.

    "One of the core issues with Narcissism is trying to force targets to live through them, to see the world and themselves through the Narcissist’s eyes instead of their own eyes, to live life AROUND the Narcissist’s needs, wants, and emotions instead of their own.  A target of a Narcissist is told that they are “wrong,” “bad,” and “unwanted” when they initiate any action or express anything from THEMSELVES that is not under the umbrella of the Narcissists’ parameters.  Any emotional that isn’t “in line” with the Controller’s emotions or agenda is “wrong.”  Preferences that are different from the Controller are “wrong” (vanilla is better than chocolate, if you prefer chocolate or don’t like vanilla you’re “WRONG” or “WEIRD”).  Clothing, hairstyles, shoes, jewelry are WRONG if they don’t line up with the Controller’s preferences.

    "ANYTHING that a target does, feels, or thinks, or doesn’t do, feel , or think, is “WRONG” if it doesn’t line up with the Controller/Narcissist’s very narrow point of view.  Even the WAY the target does a task that the Controller commanded is “wrong” unless it’s exactly the same as what the Controller has in their head.

    "This projection of control is literally CONSTANT.  The Controller/Narcissist actually believes that ALL of his or her perceptions, opinions, preferences, and beliefs are The Correct Ones, and they feel completely entitled to project all of them onto their target at all times.

    Basically, in their mind, the Controller is the child playing with a set of action figures and dolls, making up everything they say, do, think and feel, and their targets are the dolls who don’t have minds or spirits of their own.  It doesn’t occur to the Controller that the targets are NOT dolls, and that they are just as REAL as he or she is, and that the Controller is NOT entitled to rule over them as if they are.

  

    "In response to this, targets often develop survival skills like escapism and avoidance, in order to preserve their core “self.”  They are giving themselves TIME and SPACE to BE REAL, to be autonomous.  Controllers of course confuse this with typical teenage “rebellion.”  It is related, but teenagers rebel in order to grow up and become autonomous adults; it’s a natural process that all children go through.  They are learning about their own perceptions and how to live in the adult world AS adults.  Rebellion as a SURVIVAL mechanism is different because it’s not part of the natural maturation process; it’s literally to preserve the person’s BEING and sanity.

    "Escapism and avoidance can easily become a habit, and cause problems for the target in making decisions in career and in relationships.  This is another one-two-punch; first the target develops this habit as a way to survive a Controller, and then the target must heal from the habit itself.  IT’s not fair at all, but it’s what happens commonly.  ON the positive side, the coping mechanism DOES help preserve the target’s “self;” without it, the target may have lost their autonomy and their sanity along with it.

    "Escapism and avoidance cause problems because they become the method of coping with discomfort, pain, anxiety, fear and anger.  So instead of balancing the checkbook, we go to the store and buy new jeans.  Instead of talking through an issue with our partner or friend, we turn away from them and go do something else.  Instead of staying at a job we don’t like until we find a better one, we quit.  Instead of saving money, we spend it trying to make ourselves feel better.  Instead of going to Motor Vehicles, we do the laundry.  We say we can’t go to counseling because we have to work.  We say we can’t afford to move so we don’t have to deal with the stress of moving, even though we know we need to move.  We say we can’t afford to quit our job so we don’t have to deal with change and the fear or failure.  We say we can’t afford college because we fear the costs of money an time, or because really we don’t want to deal with the social issues from other humans.

    "So we end up NOT doing things we want or need to do.

    "This is one of the things targets often need to heal from in order to “be themselves” again.  It’s easier with support, of course, but only with healthy supporters with healthy boundaries; otherwise the mechanism will kick in again.  It helps to work on healing our own boundaries first, so we can deal with other human beings and their control issues (most humans have at least a couple of them; when our boundaries are strong enough, we can at least stay in the same room and keep participating with non-Narc. People, even if they have some arrogance or dominance behaviors)."

    Wow, this was great for me to read.  I could relate to so much.

   My form of escapism growing up was reading.  I was a bookworm, always had my nose in a book.  This accomplished a few things--first, reading was considered an acceptable way to occupy my time and people wouldn't bother me as much if I was reading.  Second, I was often on my bed reading, in my room with the door closed--away from the craziness of the rest of the household and less likely to get yelled at (once chores, etc. were done, anyway).  Third, I usually had series of books I was into like Nancy Drew or something like that (yes, to some of you this is going to make me seem really old!  LOL) and I would sort of make myself one of the characters in my mind as I was reading and define myself that way.

    I think that in some ways this was a healthy way for me to deal with not being able to individuate in normal ways---through reading I learned about the world, including some things about interacting with other people through the descriptions I read, etc. (although practical experience through healthy interactions came later; I was one of those kids who was picked on in school all the time when I was little and felt awkward in jr. high and high school).  Better than drug use and other really destructive coping measures--but I found that after I "got out" and got married, etc. reading didn't do the same thing for me that it had in the past.  It took me awhile to figure out why it didn't hold the same "magic" and had a real a-ha moment when I realized it was because my "someday" had come and so I wasn't getting the therapeutic value from it that I had before, if that makes sense.  I think that left a huge hole in a lot of ways because I didn't know what to use to replace it.  As I'm writing this, it occurs to me that maybe the hole it left behind was pain that it had been covering up and I didn't know what to do with it.  No matter what I did I couldn't feel better.  I felt completely lost for a long time, and still struggle with knowing how to occupy my time on a day to day basis.  I often felt compulsions to leave the house each day--I couldn't just be "home."  I often found myself walking around stores, even if I wasn't purchasing anything.  One day when I was trying to figure out why I did that I realized that I felt "normal" when I was at the store.  Running errands is something normal people do, so I am always running errands.

    Anyway.  This gives a lot of food for thought.  I've been learning a lot about my maternal grandfather in the last little while and realize that he carried a lot of the same kind of emotional pain that I do.  He was an alcoholic and I think I'm understanding so much better what was behind it.  His parents had severe marital problems and he was the product of an unwanted pregnancy, and he knew it from the time he was little because his mother would say things like, "I never wanted you anyway," and his older sister was the one carrying him around on her hip and mothering him.  Both mother and sister had very mean personalities.  No matter what he did, he could never be enough. He was a successful businessman in several ventures but lost them all to alcohol.

    Similarly, I was consistently given the message, even as a little girl, that I wasn't enough. I realized several years ago that my very existence never felt acceptable, and the more I've pieced together and learned about my mother the more I've realized that this is really true. I believe strongly that my dad was ready to have a baby much sooner than she was and so she felt pressured into getting pregnant when she did. When she saw how much my dad adored me, she saw me as competition for his affections.  For most of my growing up years I had a desperate need for approval and acceptance.  The arenas I sought after those things in were at church, being the goody-two-shoes who was well behaved and knew all the answers; and through praise or achievements in areas I was talented in, such as music and dance.  I was in ballet for eleven years and in modern dance/jazz for about four years after that, and if I left a class without a compliment from my teacher I was devastated.  If someone outperformed me in some way it took the wind out of my sails, rather than spurring me on to stronger effort and I would sink into depression and hopelessness.  The way it felt to me was that a compliment to someone else was a personal rejection of me.  I couldn't figure out for the longest time why I would do that; now I understand that it's because it was all rooted in approval that was withheld at home, and when I didn't get it in the places I felt like I could get it, it was further validation to me that I was worthless.

    My grandpa was always trying to cope with pain that never went away, and the alcohol cushioned it.  I'm really a lot more like him in a lot of ways than I realized, but instead of alcohol I use food or other coping behaviors.