Gees! What a ride!

My understanding of childhood trauma, and the relationship between the ability to process and cope with emotions as an adult.

As a child growing up in a home with physical, mental and emotional abuse, I learned to be quiet.

I learned not to say anything unless it was necessary. I learned to leave, to run away, or to remove myself, hide – when things became too much or started to get worse. Make myself small…..

As an adult, those reactions are still there — although they have changed and morphed a little over time.

I still feel scared to question people. Not just nervous. Literally scared.

I still want to run away, to hide and make myself small.

But over the years, I learned to push harder and harder, never really allowing myself to rest, to think or to dwell on anything too long. But – there is a lingering feeling, that I am always slightly on edge, as though I need to be prepared for something to go wrong.

I am afraid to speak openly about how I actually feel, because somewhere along the way I learned that expressing my emotions could lead to rejection, ridicule, judgement, physical or mental harm.

And underneath all of that is this enormous feeling of worthlessness.

So I am quiet.

I suppress emotions that are roaring through my body. I internalise feelings of being hurt, abused or “used”. I swallow my irritation, sadness,grief and anger and keep it all inside.  I have to be “strong”

I do everything myself because I feel responsible for making sure things are completed. I don’t want to burden anyone else.  Asking for help feels like I have failed.

I always try to “fix” everything and always needed to help someone else…..

Somewhere along the way, I learned to measure my worth by what I can do for others.

If I don’t have a job, if I cannot contribute, if I cannot be useful — even in the smallest ways through conversations, ideas or simply being there — I feel as though I have no value.

There is this constant internal pressure to be more.

More capable.
More productive.
More useful.
More resilient.

Even when I have nothing left to give…..

Perhaps that makes sense when I look back at what I was taught as a child.

My emotions were annoying.

My efforts were never quite good enough.

And, most importantly, I was not safe. Never.

Those lessons don’t simply disappear when you grow up.

They can become deeply embedded in the way you respond to the world — internally, physically and mentally — how you cope, how you communicate, how you handle conflict, how you ask for help, and even how you understand your own worth.

I am beginning to understand that some of the things I have considered personality traits — being quiet, independent, overly responsible, constantly pushing myself and struggling to ask for help — may actually be survival strategies I learned a very long time ago.

But this has me asking more questions….

How do I change the way I am “wired?”How do I become a person of value?  Especially while unwell?

How can I make myself believe that I am worth it?  Is it all in my head?

How can I create a better life for myself and my whānau when everyday sickness is a barrier?

These questions are difficult because they bring me back to the same beliefs I have carried for so long. If I cannot work, contribute financially or keep pushing through, then what do I have to offer? If my body and mind limit what I can do, does that mean I have limited value?

How do I change my internal system, wired to feel this way?

I am would like to believe that illness may be a barrier, that it does not define my worth. That it may change what I can do, how much I can carry and what my life needs to look like, but it does not make me less deserving of love, care, respect or a meaningful future.

Wouldn’t that be the dream? But how?

Perhaps making a better life for myself and my whānau does not mean doing everything perfectly or becoming endlessly productive. Perhaps it means learning to live with more honesty, compassion and balance. It may mean accepting help, setting boundaries, resting without guilt and recognising that being present is also a form of contribution.

Easier said than done, I think.

I do not know how to change any of this. I have no magic cure. I am scared and I am still broken….

But as I journey through this process, I will to pass on information and what helps me, in the hope I can help others….