A Ghost Without Validation

My Fate is sealed by those around me.

I have come to realize this just recently. It was obvious my whole life, but never truly sank in until now.

My existence is proven by those who validate me. Otherwise, I sift like a ghost through the walls. I am an empty shell. I am nothing unless someone tells me that I am something. If too much time has passed then I waiver and begin to fade again. It’s like my life essence is supported by people around me, even strangers. If that well runs dry then so do I. I feel drained. Empty. Depression overwhelms me until another deposit is made.

Sounds like an interesting fairy tale, a story woven from someone’s imagination. Yet, in my case, it’s true.

All of my life I have been a make or break situation. If someone likes me or if I make someone happy, then I am alive. If someone does not like me or is not happy with me then I am dead. It’s been a long 40 years like this. I do not know how to sustain myself. Even a frown from a passerby can tear my day apart.

When I was a child, my parents taught me that in order to survive I needed to make the world around me a happy place. It was up to me because no one else was going to do it for me. “I never told you that life is fair” is something my mother has said to me since the dawn of time. I can remember those words as far back as I can remember breathing. My job was not to make myself happy. Or to find happiness within. It was to make everyone else happy, then I would be safe. As children we rely on our caregivers to give us a stable world to exist in. When they do not do that we have no choice but to create our own. We need to learn how to survive. Because we are children we look up to these caregivers to support our world. If it doesn‘t happen then there must be something wrong with us. It is the mind of a child. If they do not love me, it is not their fault, it is mine. I will do what I can to make them help me survive. I will make myself be what they want me to be. Then they will let me live. It is the natural instinct humans have. Survival of the fittest. Children do not know the complexity of it all, their brain only knows that it must have sustenance to live.

I learned what I needed to in order to live in that world. That lesson is how I still live. I do not know who I am. I am a reflection of those around me. Each person in my life is holding a mirror. When I am with them, I am that reflection. Everyone has masks. You are different at work than at home. Some more than others, it depends on the person. I am a different person for whomever I am with. A chameleon of sorts. Not by choice, but by instinct. Each layer of my life has added another personality to the whole. They are all part of me. I’m not saying I have multiple personalities. It’s not like that. I wish I could find words to explain it better. I used to think there were two of me. One that was the outside person that the world saw and the other was the inside person that hardly anyone got a glimpse of. Libbi and I have discussed this and she asked me what that inner person’s name is. It is Phaedra. I was able to name her when I was older, when I was ready. Before that it was just the hidden me. Again, not a separate personality, but a different me. Over the past few years I have discovered that there are those two distinctions, but at the same time there are many layers to both of them. This is all making me sound crazier than I already am. I think I am going to give up trying to put this into words that don’t seem to be helping me get my thoughts out properly.

Tuesday in group:

Bill: What is one value that each of you hold high in your life?
Brenda:  I feel that my main value in life is to become a better person. It is what I strive for constantly. Yes, there are the values of loyalty, honesty, etc. But the one thing I am always trying to work on is my ability to be more kind to people, a better mother, all of that.
Bill:So you consider that a value?
Brenda:I suppose that doesn’t make sense, does it?
(feeling stupid, want to take back my original thought)

Bill:No, it can be a value. What do you mean by “better”?

Brenda:I don’t know really. I just know I can be better than who I am right now.

Geoff:If I can just say, I think she is one of the kindest people I know.

Brenda:Thank you, Geoff.
(feeling spotlighted, want to be out of the center of conversation)

We move on to the next person

Mark:I feel that being nice is a survival instinct. I’m just in a negative mood today I guess.

(my existence begins to crumble. Mark is someone I respect and want to like me. His validation of me is shaking. Tears well up in my eyes. Am I crying inside because he thinks I’m not genuinely nice or is it because he might be right?)

Am I nice because it is how I was taught to survive? I would like to think I am a nice person because I care about people. People’s words can make you stop and question yourself. As a result of this handful of minutes last week I have not stopped questioning myself and wondering if he thinks less of me. I have been sad and down and beating myself up. Because if he does think less of me, then what?

Thursday in group:
During an art project we have voted to listen to music on the laptop. Anne is taking suggestions and Bill is locating them on you tube.

Anne:So, what is a good inspirational song that people listen to?

Two members suggest Stevie Nicks. One of her songs is played.

Celene Dion is thrown out there and I cringe. Some of her songs are pretty, but it is difficult for me to listen to a lot of her stuff because it’s just not my style.

Anne giggles at me and asks me what I would like to listen to.

Brenda:I tend to listen to music that matches how I feel. It just gets my feelings out. Lately the song that keeps playing in my head is “Brain Damage” by Pink Floyd.

Anne smiles at me. Bill does not look up from the laptop.

I sit there waiting. Then say…well you know because sometimes I just feel like there is a lunatic in my head.

Nothing.

(my mind reels with self doubt, stupidity. I want to crawl into a hole. I want to hide. I want to run. Why did I pick that song? Why did I say that out loud? I have to think of another song quickly but now all I can think about is that stupid song. Nothing else is coming into my mind!)

Anne:That is a good point though. Sometimes we think we have to listen to music that will change our mood, but sometimes it’s okay to listen to songs that really pull our mood outward. It’s like someone out there feels what you feel and they are singing directly to you.

(feeling worse than before having had to be explained to others)

Group ends. I haven’t looked up from my project in the last ten minutes. The irony is that my project is about having a commitment to be true to myself. I have glitter and magazine cut outs and marker. I was proud of it at first. By that point I felt like throwing it away. True to myself is ridiculous because it only creates these awkward moments. It makes me feel like hiding. I haven’t made those around me happy or approve of me. I will not survive. I am disappearing into thin air.

Group ended and Bill left without a glance or a goodbye to me. We usually have a better connection than that. Anne smiled at me and asked if I’d be there on Tuesday. Of course I will.

I wanted to stay there. To sit in my chair and not go home. No matter what happened I felt safer there. If I left I would beat myself up more and be left to my own devices. That worried me. Before Anne left I asked her if she would hang my project on the wall that faces me so I can see it every group and remind myself to be honest and real. Why did I ask that? Right now it is just a reminder of how stupid I feel and how what I have to say is so completely worthless that I never want to open my mouth again. Perhaps it was to keep the bully part of me from tearing the thing to pieces.

The duration of Thursday, Friday, Saturday and today I have thought about this situation nonstop. On Thursday I played out in my head a hundred times on how I was going to call them and apologize for picking a bad song. Maybe I offended someone with my choice. It was completely inappropriate given the group. I know now that I needed to pick something different. What was I thinking? I told this to Jason and he said that I had nothing to be upset about. I tried to think about What Would Libbi Say. I heard her say “She asked you a question and you answered it. If they cannot handle your answer then they don’t need to ask the question”. Then I convinced myself that Libbi would tell me it was inappropriate too. Not everyone has my sense of humor when it comes to my mental health. I call myself crazy and make jokes about it because the humor helps me cope. I am offending other people and I need to filter myself more. Being honest with my words and thoughts is not the best idea. Why did I attempt to take the mask down?

I feel as though I can never do anything right. The tape continues to play in my head nonstop reminding me of how I’m not good enough and I never will be. I’m not getting better because I have always been this way and I don’t know how to do it any differently. I don’t know if there is a better.

A friend asked me last night if I was okay. He asked me if I needed anything. I told him that I was not okay but I did appreciate him asking me. I had promised to be honest about how I am doing. That is one of the things from my hospital stay that I have been sticking to. He started to say some things that made me feel better but then he ended with…“You should fight to be happy because people love you. Mychele loved you and I'm sure she still does. I'd like to think I'd care about you regardless, but I feel like doing so is a way of tribute to her, for making me a better man.” Gee thanks, I think. Of course my mind took that to mean that if it wasn’t for Mychele, his high school girlfriend and my friend still today, making him feel good in 25 years ago that he wouldn’t be giving a shit right now. Then after he said that he said he was upset and couldn’t talk about it anymore. That proved my point that telling people how I truly feel makes them uncomfortable. My sadness makes others uncomfortable so why tell them and have them deal with their feelings about it. Just keep my mouth shut and everyone will be happy.

I am constantly ghosting . I always depend on others to breathe life into me. It is not their responsibility. I don’t want to be here and it is no one’s job to try to hold me here. It is no one’s job to try to convince me how wonderful life is.
Another friend asked me if group was making thing worse. It seems that way but the reality is that it is bringing things up that I have chosen not to face before. I am learning things that I do not know how to change, that I wonder if I truly want to change and subjects from my life that scare me. It brings sadness because these are the roots of my life. I hate my life and myself. This is tugging at those thoughts and the reasons that I have them. It is not easy stuff. When my trauma group begins it is going to get worse. I am not projecting, I am being real.

It reminds me of a saying I read a few months ago and found again recently.