I recently made a joke to a good friend of mine about my “abandonment issues.” I put that in quotations because quite honestly, up until that conversation, I didn’t actually think I had problems with abandonment. It had always been a joke about my first boyfriend, who turned out to be a secret Mormon (as in, he did not inform me until after we had done very un-Mormonly things) who disappeared under the cover of darkness one day, never to return. Well, I shouldn’t say never. We did run into each other five years later at a graduation, where he very awkwardly apologized in the way that early 2000’s rom-coms may have glamorized, but twenty three year old me found it cringey and borderline repulsive. I’d found out from a mutual friend that he did, in fact, decide to embrace his Mormon faith (after telling me he was going to walk away from it when he turned eighteen) and just…went on his mission. To Uganda. Just like that. Gone. U-gone-da.
My mother found me in a puddle of tears when it occurred to me that he wasn’t coming back for me, feeling like my life was over and I would never love again, at the ripe old age of eighteen. The bathroom floor was my prime crying spot, and she pulled me into her lap and said the words that I live by to this day:
“It hurts for now, and it hurts like hell. But every day, the hurt will get a little bit less. And, I’m sorry to say this but, regardless of the hurt…life will go on. The part I’m not sorry to say is, you will find love and happiness again.”
This whole ordeal felt monumental to teenage me, but adult me didn’t think any actual damage came from it. I mean sure, he was my first love. He was…my first everything (sorry Mormons). But we were young, and with youth comes resilience. And sure enough, I did, in fact, bounce back. I bounced so far, in fact, that I jumped from trying to be the pinnacle of good-girl perfection (his classic Abercrombie type) to falling madly, truly, deeply, insanely in lust with a close male friend, who wouldn’t have looked twice at me that way. But he did introduce me to partying, underage drinking, and the best Canasta partner a girl could ever have. Insert heartbreak number two, the classic “unrequited love” story. Eye roll.
All of that is to say, adult me did not actually think trauma-formed patterns could have come from that. But after telling my friend the story in a joking fashion…that she most certainly did not laugh at, and then talking to my therapist about it, it turns out when you take that time of my life and pair it with a father who died just shy of my second birthday, I am the classic case of “daddy issues and abandonment issues girly.” Love that. Awesome. I’m a stereotype.
This was both a good news and a bad news moment for me, as it helped me put the pieces together when it comes to my absolute most toxic trait: ghosting people. And worse, ghosting people I genuinely care about. I’ve had a long standing pattern of attempting to connect to people, only to flake out at the last minute (oftentimes without notice) and no one has ever been more upset with me about it than me. Anytime someone arrives in my life and I think, “huh, I like this person. I’d like to be their friend,” the wall comes crashing down and I run as far and as fast as my short little tree trunk legs can carry me. An even bigger signal for me to lower the gate is anytime someone shows a genuine attempt to get to know me. When anyone shows interest in me, in any capacity whatsoever (we are not talking romance only here) I immediately tuck tail and run. I have to fight that impulse tooth and nail in order to form genuine bonds, and still, to this day, the people I struggle the most to talk to are the ones I desire a connection with the most.
Insert abandonment issues here.
I am a huge believer in the “it can be an explanation, but that doesn’t make it an excuse” mentality. While I have had a bright, obnoxious, fluorescent light bulb moment in regards to my internal struggles and how they affect my failed attempts at connection, that doesn’t justify my uncanny ability to hurt people with my lack of follow through. At the end of the day, I feel unworthy of their love, their friendship, or their interest. Abandonment struggles are almost always connected to a lack of self worth. If there is a person in my life who will proudly treat me as expendable, walking in and out as they see fit, boy do I wait on bended knee for them to return. Happily. With bells on. Why? Because they are treating me the way my subconscious thinks I deserve to be treated. Like shit, honestly. Disposable. It’s the most painful reality, but it’s one I create for myself, both with my unwillingness to set boundaries with those relationships and my unwillingness to be open to genuine connection.
I am watching myself, practically like an out-of-body experience, do it again. Found a new friend. Formed a connection. They asked me to spend time with them. Clearly they actually want to. But no, it is impossible. And even if it is possible, once they get to know me…they’ll leave.
Ew. Gross. Abandonment girly is whiny.
As the pieces form together, and I realize how my past has shaped my own self worth, I see the work that needs to be done. I see who I have become, and the way she treats others, solely out of fear, and how terrible it is. I am not too proud to admit when I am wrong, and when my actions hurt people, however unintentional it may be. It’s an explanation, but it sure as hell isn’t an excuse.
All of this is to say, working on your self worth is so much more important than most of us realize. Not only is it important for ourselves (which should be reason enough) but it’s also important for those who choose to be in our lives, for those we want in our lives, because when we don’t see ourselves as worthy, we deny them the chance to form a bond with us, and that’s not fair to anyone involved.
So, my friends, as I rabbit hole myself into working on this issue, I encourage you to look within. Do you see your value? Do you own your worthiness? I hope you do. And if you struggle, whether it’s in a way similar to mine or something very different, I hope you find the bravery to learn to love yourself. You are worthy of that and more.
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