Photo by Aditya Saxena on Unsplash

Confession

I’ve been a hostage of other people’s perceptions and opinions for decades. That really sucks! I can no longer afford to waste precious time.  I’m middle-aged, greying, and tired. I get nauseated by some of the crippling comments I’ve allowed into my psyche. “You should style your hair like this.” They’d advise. “Don’t do that!” They scolded. All the while I was juggling every opinion, barely keeping them afloat. I frequently wondered, “Will today be the day I drop one  and lose everything?” Fear of disappointment caused me to juggle faster. Why are so many of us drawn to people-pleasing? Can anyone find fulfillment by becoming an emotional hostage?

My beloved captors weren’t the only ones who tortured me. I often tortured myself with hateful self-talks mixed with anger and resentment.  A nasty recipe if I do say so myself!

Rejection

What causes some to become pleasers of the masses and not others?  What magical moment(s) occurs that ensnares us like mice to a trap? I’m not sure when it started for me. but My earliest recollection was a conversation I had with my father around the age of  10 or 11. During a back-to-school shopping trip with my family, I was ushered into a dressing room to try on a pair of jeans that matched my older sisters. Her jean fit her slender brown, athletic body perfectly. Sadly,  I couldn’t budge my jeans past my soon to be full hips.

Not only did the jeans not fit, apparently I had outgrown the juniors department altogether. Who outgrows the junior department at ten? My graduation in size prompted my father to declare I was too fat.  He even refused to pick me up, though he had just picked my older sister up and praising her outfit. His rejection made me realize I was too fat for his love.  I don’t think it was a conscious choice to associate love with appearance and performance but the lesson landed squarely on my not so thin shoulders.  I accepted his challenge that day.  I would find a way to please my father and anyone else who found a reason to dislike me.

The rejected little girl in me grew up to become a shattered adult.  I know that there are others — maybe even you, who have survived horrific abuse yet years later, remain trapped in a mental prison. A prison you didn’t create nor one you can escape. It’s not okay that it happened. It’s not okay that it is still hurting you. BUT, it is okay that you realize the truth and want real healing. That is absolutely okay! It took me decades to reach that point. Even though I am still in the healing process, I’m finally experiencing real freedom for the first time in my adult life. It is liberating!

The events of my life both positive and not so awesome have led to this moment. This particular article is one more step towards healing. I am simply shedding light on the ugliness I have experienced and hopefully, it will help others find their way.

Brownies Make a Terrible Savior!

Because of the way trauma rewired my brain, rejection feels cataclysmic. In the throes of rejection, my airways constrict, making it hard to breathe. My pulse races and clamminess clings to my skin. I later learned that these episodes are most likely panic attacks. And yes, they are common among us who have survived trauma.

My panic attacks became more frequent as life’s stressors increased. Something as simple as not getting invited to an event or someone not speaking to me in passing could trigger one.  A traumatized brain easily processes such simple happenings as tragic. In my mind, the people who didn’t invite me were rejecting me altogether. When that happened, my entire mind shifted into panic mode. I then fixated on what I had done to make them reject me; playing it over and over like a movie on rewind.

By the end of one of my mental beratings, I was left physically spent, and emotionally shredded. Are you wondering what I did to snap out of it? Well, I turned to food for comfort. That’s right! Warm brownies never let me down. Ultimately, I became every bit the fat chic my father saw me as. Hello, 20 year battle with weight loss and twinkies!

It took several years and a lot of baked goods to realize brownies make a terrible savior.

Tag — I’m It!

Before we go further, let me tell you what this article is not. It most definitely is not a ten easy steps to freedom checklist. I wish it were that simple!

For many in recovery, the process is slow and arduous. It can also be extremely painful. My first step towards freedom was a pivital “AH-HA” moment. It happened during my quiet time (aka hiding in the bathroom for a mental break).  My moment of realization was so profound, I ran through the house screaming “ Guys guess what?”. My kids and husband stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed as I struggled to get the words out.

“Remember when I told you my dad rejected me? Well, that has tortured and defined my life for as long as I can remember! At this point, there were only blank stares from my family.  That didn’t deter me from talking. I took a deep breath, leaned back in my chair so as not to frighten them further, and explained my revelation. With a trembling voice, I shared.  “I’ve been living like a ten-year-old traumatized girl. The little girl in me never changed. She is as broken as the day she first got hurt.”  Since then I’ve come to realize many abuse survivors live on the same emotional level as the day the abuse started.  We become stuck in time, so to speak. Another powerful realization I had is:

The day my father rejected me, was the day I rejected me.

I finally knew what I needed to do to break the cycle. I had to choose to love me, imperfections and all.  Why? Because the real power was lies in choice. My father’s perception of me became my own. His words had shaped the past few decades of my life. Imagine if I took back that power and gave myself the gift of a healthy self-perception. What would my future look like? My family’s? What are the possibilities for yours?

Therapy Rocks!

Choosing me led straight to therapy. It wasn’t an easy decision but it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. It took much to long to realize this battle was greater than I could bear. I wasn’t healthy enough mentally to think my way out. Many of us try to do surgery on ourselves and it’s a disaster. My one piece of advice, should you ever need it, is to get the help you need. Don’t wait until you are middle-aged and greying or worse, never choosing you.

I desperately want to tell you that after my “ah-ha” moment things instantly changed. They didn’t! I still lapse into panic and fear at the disapproval of others, however, I no longer wallow in it. I mentally rise again and stand on my truth! Rejection is a part of life and it will come. When it does, acknowledge it, cry if you need to.  Pray or meditate to calm your mind and spirit.  Then purposefully, unapologetically choose you!

My Man!

My hubby has been my accountability partner on this journey. He reminds me of my truth when I hurt too much to remember. He doesn’t enable my tendency to sulk or self-sabotage. He encourages me and loves me fiercely. Through the years I have continued to (UNASHAMEDLY) receive professional counseling because some things you just can’t shake off in a decade or two!

If you are immobilized by the pain of other people’s perceptions and ills against you, GET HELP! We live in an age where you can get counseling over the phone or the internet. Many mental health organizations offer counseling support, oftentimes free of charge. I also, encourage you to find an accountability partner. That person needs to be mentally grounded, completely trustworthy, and a battle-tested confidant.

Not everyone can or should handle your truth!

Not long ago, a friend posted a status update on Facebook that struck a chord with me. Her post is somewhat about her choice of hairstyle and a whole lot about the perception of others. Her words touched my soul and acted as a mirror on my journey. Kayla, my sweet friend, gave me permission to share her post here. I hope it makes you stop and reflect just a bit. After reading her post, ask yourself, Whose perception do I choose for my life? If you have never chosen you, today is the perfect day to start!

Photo by Aikomo Opeyemi on Unsplash

Kayla Lusk

“Yesterday, I did a thing. Yesterday, I wrapped my hair and clipped on my nose ring and headed to my “professional” government job. Yesterday, I decided that I was done conforming to the social construct that says my hair needs to be straight down or pulled back into a bun in order to “look professional.” Yesterday, I challenged the naysayers and those who folded their arms in disappointment. Yesterday, I encouraged the women around me to climb out of the box they’d been placed in (especially AA/ethnic women) and just be free. Yesterday, I held my professionally wrapped head high and poked up my nose and IT WAS LIBERATING!

I wish I had time to tell you about all the negative comments I received. I wish I could tell you about the black man who smiled at me and proudly held up his fist as he passed me in the hall. He didn’t say a single word because he didn’t have to. I wish I could tell you about the women who came to me in confidence to tell me how much I encouraged them. But most of all, I just wish this was the norm and I didn’t feel the need to say anything at all.

That’s why yesterday, I did a thing. Yesterday, I decided to BE the change I want to see. Yesterday, I decided to forever alter the way the professional world looks through my daughter’s eyes. Yesterday, I decided the buck stops with me!”

Written by Kim Jagwe and Facebook status update written by Kayla Lusk