I was convinced I was adopted.
Or at least, thats what I often kept telling myself, when I pondered things as I walked home from school or time in my bedroom. Im nothing like my parents, I think different, I am different. I cant be theirs.
I think I even asked them once, only for the cruel blow to be taken away from me, the next time they did an annual ‘slide show’ evening, those baby photos were there.
Often the worst parents want to convince you that you are like them. It excuses them.
So I wondered at the time if I was adopted.
Survival self talk enabled me to get through most of my childhood
Its only a few more years of this until I leave home
I know that God is with me, I think
If I stay in my room, and only appear for meals, then that reduces time with her
Actually I can stay out late, its light till 9 or 10
I would talk these things to myself over and over, most days
And I really did think I was adopted. It was the only way that I made sense.
Personal identity self talk, because it couldn’t be that I was actually like them. That would be crushing.
Other survival self talk went like this
Stay out of the way
Dont make a mess
Dont give her a reason to punish you
The problem with growing up in an abusive household, is that even if you think you are doing the right thing, they will find a way, or reason to be critical.
Homework being done, was being done messy.
Keeping out of their way, was interpreted as ‘treating the house like a hotel’
They had rules that kept changing to ensure that they couldn’t be worked out.
Their, actually her, inconsistency that made eggshell walking a daily sport.
So even if I thought I was self talking a survival strategy – the rug was pulled.
My other self talk that I told myself was that
Say what you like, I dont think what you’re saying is true
Im not these things, but carry on shouting them anyway
Ill take the punishment, but im hardening up
I know that im actually ok, and no one else I know thinks of me as bad as you do.
So I learned to take the blows, because I also knew that that was what home was like, what was normal.
Outside of which no one thought of me as anything like what she did.
So I knew I was ok.
And if anyone knew of me a few years ago in the midst of the recent breakdown. I knew then I was ok too.
Survival self talk, managing to claim an identity and knowledge of myself despite what happened.
Im no hero, but I resolved to ignore them, and knowing myself, despite them, from such an early age. I didn’t have survival on my mind, but I was calculating how to navigate eggshells. So I guess it was.
One thing I had to do to Survive psychopathic parenting was positive survival self talk.
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