Why We Shouldn’t Assume Others Aren’t A Little Broken Too
How Owning Our Own Story Can Help Us Have more Genuine Relationships With The People In Our Lives
“I’d rather meet a new dog than a new person”, my friend Scott used to joke. Only, he wasn’t kidding, and man, could I relate! Anyone who has been fortunate enough to have bonded with a special pet in their lifetime can probably relate. Our animals love us unconditionally. We as caregivers are their whole lives. They instinctively comfort us when we are sick or sad. We are loved and accepted by them at our best, worst, and every way in between. They are happy to spend time doing just about anything with their favorite humans. They even seem to know when their owners are due home before they arrive. It’s an amazing and genuine relationship, and it’s pretty effortless.
Relating to people, by comparison, can be quite the opposite experience. Until recently, I can’t recall a time in my life when I didn’t feel like that was the case. For as long as I can remember, I felt different from others. Not in the unique, quirky, indie sort of way, but more like a bruised rejected piece of fruit. Why would anyone chose the damaged piece when there are other nice presentable shiny pieces lined up just so? When we have unresolved shame or trauma in our lives, it can feel painfully visible to the world around us. Just like an apple that bears the scars of a hard journey from tree to market. Damaged goods reduced for a quick sale. For me, the question was usually, “how can I make the outside presentable enough for people to like, knowing that the inside is a mess?” After all, you only get one first impression.
The Shame Spiral
The answer, it seemed, was to become the best. As close to perfection as possible. I figured out from a pretty young age that my life was different than that of other kids. I was born to a single teenage mom, most of them had two parent households. I moved a lot and went to different schools, other kids had the same friends year after year. I had some great caregivers growing up that helped my mom a lot, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I was a burden and inconvenience to whoever was dealing with me at any given time. School became my favorite place to shine. I became the kid every teacher wants in class, the stereotypical teacher’s pet. My willingness to please combined with being naturally gifted academically made it easy to get the positive attention I craved. Then, it got harder. Once the bar was raised and success didn’t come so easy, I was crushed. I had this totally ill conceived notion that if you weren’t the best at things, you were nothing.
I became exhausted trying to prove myself over and over in new situations and eventually shut down. I wasn’t able to handle moving so much and all the inconsistency. It crushed me to keep losing friends. It wasn’t making them that was hard, I’m very drawn to people, but the thought of moving and knowing I wouldn’t be able to keep in touch. It got to the point where I started putting up a wall of independence. I kept my relationships with other people really superficial while I was busy self imploding. If I couldn’t be a normal good kid, I’d be the best terrible kid. I smoked and drank from the age of 10 on. I would use any drug that came my way and thrived on the attention I got from being sexually active. My relationship with food and my body image was absolutely terrible and spiraled into bulimia. At my lowest points I even cut myself. I was convinced I was such a mess and normal people didn’t act this way just to escape the discomfort of their lives. So I did my best to hide and minimize any evidence of my self hatred. To this day, I’m not sure I would have lived through those years without horses in my life. To be needed and unconditionally loved by such amazing animals was a true gift in my life and gave me the consistency I found nowhere else.
A silver lining
Being on my own in my late teens/early 20’s brought back my goal driven way of living. I was busy trying to make a living in equine management, training horses and riders. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was right where I needed to be. Even better, I was happy! Horses were undoubtledly the most positive part of my life. I had an amazing mentor and business partner at the time, and forming relationships with people that had the same passion for their animals as I did felt so genuine. Unfortunately, due to a horse related accident, my dear friend and business partner was killed when I was 21. I found myself in an increasingly dangerous marriage at that same time. By 23, I was divorced and bankrupt, lost horses from my life, and couldn’t help but feel damaged all over again as I tried to start over.
Lying to myself
I relied on bartending to support myself. I enjoyed the fast pace environment and working with people. The money was fantastic and the alcohol fueled fun was just the distraction I thought I needed. I didn’t want to process any of the negative events life had brought my way. If I was good at anything, it was running and “starting over”. I knew deep down that the bar environment was not the healthiest place for someone with unresolved trauma and a history of binge drinking, but I was stuck in survival mode, and young enough to not get completely destroyed by the party lifestyle. Still, something nagged at me that I should be doing something less destructive with my life. I wanted a “normal” job. So I went back to school for dental assisting. It seemed to me like a safe choice that I wouldn’t mind doing for a living. Maybe I could even supplement the lower income with a bit of bartending and not drink so much. I enjoyed the classes but my heart wasn’t in this new career choice. I also became pregnant with my daughter, and the timeline of finishing school before she was born was not going to work out.
“Let’s try again”, I thought to myself. I was enjoying being a new mom, but still had the same internal nagging that I should do something for a living that was not only healthier for me, but a good example for my daughter. I was drinking less, but still faced the same problem of once I got started, there was no putting on the brakes. I decided I would turn my passion for fitness into my new career. The schooling I needed could be done from home and would allow me to keep working part time and keeping my daughter out of daycare. I was no stranger to pushing myself in the gym. In fact, I spent years rationalizing my unhealthy drinking habits by running marathons and competing in fitness competitions. After all, alcoholics didn’t get out of bed and log 15 mile training runs and eat a super clean diet, and I did. I didn’t have a problem, just a need for moderation.
I spent a few more years in my self made purgatory, trapped between going off the rails with alcohol and thinking I was fixing the damage I was doing to myself. The worst part was the amount of pressure I put on myself. I was treating myself like complete shit with the expectations I had for how I had to live and perform to be worth something in life. I had to be able to drink with the guys at work but be a perfect mom and partner at home. I had to cook perfect meals that my family would enjoy but keep a perfect body. I had to train every day for hours but not at the expense of spending quality time with my daughter. If I was trying to make it as a personal trainer, I felt that my body had to be my brand. If I didn’t perform at a high level at everything I set out to do, I just couldn’t handle the failure. The craziest part was that I was still sabotaging my goals with my drinking. I could no longer undo the damage in my 30’s. I was physically and mentally exhausted. I just couldn’t hate myself perfect, and It wasn’t from a lack of trying.
Learning to love the broken pieces
In 2020, I gave myself the gift of sobriety. I had done some work with a therapist before getting sober that helped me see the connection between my childhood and continued trauma responses to life in adulthood. I knew if I really wanted to fix what was broken in me, facing it without the escape of alcohol would be necessary. Almost immediately the crushing shame was lifted. I felt better physically. There were some really emotional days in the beginning, but my head started to clear and my sleep started to improve. The sense of self accomplishment was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. My training became something I embraced instead of punished myself with. My relationship with food isn’t perfect, but it’s a hell of a lot better. I can look people in the eye everyday, confidant that my poorly made up face and bloodshot eyes won’t tell a story of failed moderation from the day before. I’m a better mom, partner, and friend to all who count on me, and I can’t describe the boost in self confidence positively enough.
Lessons from my daughter
As I learn to nurture myself from a place of love, I’ve been extra mindful about how I speak to my seven year old daughter. I first and foremost try to validate what she has to say. If its on her mind and she wants it heard, I’m there to listen. Secondly, I’m on the lookout for self depreciating talk. Life presents challenges for us all at every stage. Our children’s lives aren’t somehow simpler because they don’t have bills to pay and jobs yet. School, friends, activities, and learning how life works is a lot of work for them. I may not have the best advice all the time but I have a great deal of empathy. They feel pressure too. Last, and most important, I try my best to make sure she knows she is loved in an UNCONDITIONAL way. Just for being her awesome little self. As I parent my daughter, I’m learning to “reparent” myself along the way, and that’s pretty cool. I’m not sure exactly how or why in my own childhood I slipped into the patterns I did, but if I can be proactive about my daughter not struggling the way I did, maybe I can prevent a lot of that undue pressure to be accepted.
Finding my superpower
Perhaps the greatest part of getting sober and learning to love myself has been the improvement I’ve had in relating to people. I spent 34 years of my life trying to figure out how to be worthy of relationships, believing that I wouldn’t be accepted as is. I placed so much emphasis on accomplishments and physical appearance in hope that no one would see real me and be disappointed. I asked a lot of the wrong questions, such as, “at what weight can I just be happy with my body?”, as if achieving something tangible would make me acceptable to myself and others. Real connections with people don’t come from masking imperfections. In fact, until you have a solid relationship with yourself, you’re robbing others of your true gifts. Working through my own issues has made me a much better friend, as I’ve learned to truly listen. I value the conversations I have with people now in a new way. In doing so, I’ve realized how wrong I’d been to assume other people didn’t struggle too. They sometimes need the same type of support I felt I didn’t deserve for whatever reason and I can absolutely relate. I can absorb a lot more from others while at peace with myself. I spend more time and energy doing what interests me, even if I’m not good at it (looking at you, JiuJitsu, most humbling sport ever). It hasn’t been easy for me, but life is a lot more enjoyable when you can accept your whole story, bad chapters and all, because everybody has them. Empathy isn’t weakness, like I used to believe, it’s my superpower. I hope anyone reading this can embrace their story and find theirs too.
