I find myself overexplaining my plans to my husband. I’m letting him know that what I’m doing is on the up and up and there’s nothing to worry about. I put my activities on the calendar and talk about it days before. I walk him through details of the upcoming night out with my girlfriends and provide names and locations for who I’ll be with…and when…and where. He doesn’t need me to do that, and he most certainly is listening just because he knows this is still my response to everyday situations, but I do this because of my past abuse.
The fear of being yourself, the fear of putting yourself out there, the fear of making a mistake. Even the tiniest misstep sends you scrambling to make apologies and bracing for impact. This is especially true when you’re in an abusive situation now, immediately after, and often lingers for a long time following the separation from your abuser. It hits you when you’re meeting new friends or trying to date again. You’re late to meet them, you missed a text, you’re unable to join someone for a fun night out. You’re desperately seeking the words to explain yourself, make amends and protect yourself from receiving a verbal or physical thrashing, or worse, emotional isolation. What you’re feeling is normal for someone who has had a traumatic experience and can be symptomatic of PTSD.
The damage that’s been done is panic inducing and anxiety fueling, and carries into future relationships. You are prepared for the worst and trying to get the best outcome in every situation. When you make a mistake or feel like you’ve let someone down you think “I’ll start by apologizing over and over, and then offer to make it up to them and promise, promise, promise to do better next time.” All the while, the person you’re preparing to face is perfectly ok. They’re not upset or angry, or even hinting at a mild frustration, and that’s weird, right? Since that can’t possibly be normal, you don’t trust their perfectly normal response. The thoughts crosses your mind “Yeah, this is definitely lulling me into a false sense of security right. This is the calm before the storm and it’s definitely not “ok” like they’re telling me. Maybe another round of apologies just to be safe.”
Letting the abuser down never went well before and now you’re programmed to prepare for the worst. What you experienced when you endured abuse pulls reactionary levers and pushes buttons in your brain. Now you’re always bracing for impact, even when you’re in the company of safe people, but especially in unfamiliar territory. You experienced abuse, control and manipulation. When that is your “normal” life for so long, everything else feels abnormal. Coming across a “normal” person with a “normal” response to disagreements is uncharted territory.
Remember that your abuser had issues. Whatever their reaction was, dial it back 753 notches to find “reasonable”. Also remember that your sensitivity to every situation is also very heightened. You also have work to do on yourself to reel in your emotional response to mistakes, disagreements, and not having conflict where you would have before. It takes time to work through triggers. It takes practice to slow down and process the situation for what it really is and figure out what you should do next.
Most of these types of fears and anxieties have passed for me after a few years now, but I’m not 100% and don’t know if I ever with be. I still am very sensitive to the feelings and emotions of people around me. I can see the tiniest twinge of disappointment, hear the tone of frustration in people’s voices, and sense the exact emotion perfect strangers are feeling from across the room. Those feelings are heavy, and I feel compelled to make things better, especially if any of it is directed at me. Immediately after separating myself from my abuser, this was a huge struggle for me. I felt rushes of emotions over insignificant things wondering how my every move and every word was being interpreted. Something as small as missing a phone call sent me into a panic driven apology while simultaneously being upset with myself for even caring so much. The complexity of what you’re feeling is difficult to sort through. I had no barometer for appropriate emotional reactions in a “normal” dynamic…on my side anyone else’s.
If there is a silver lining to all of this, it’s that I’ve become a pro level athlete at navigating uncomfortable and tough situations. I know exactly what to do to lessen the hurt, fear and distrust others might be feeling and unite people on common ground. I can sort through surface level responses and get to the bottom of what’s causing friction very quickly. This has been instrumental in my career, as well as in my relationships. It’s also sharpened my communications skills in that I can hone in on the subtleties of situations and work to frame the appropriate response for exactly who and what I’m dealing with. Do I sense stress, hurt, embarrassment, fatigue, or even a big ego underneath the anger? Since I’m a fixer by nature, I can then game plan on how to resolve conflict quickly and get things back to a good place.
I hope this helps you know that you’re not alone. You’re not always wrong. You don’t need to do yet another thing differently to be loved. You don’t always have to pick up the pieces. You’re not weird or broken or unworthy, and you will be loved after making a mistake. You’re healing and learning to communicate in a healthy way. That takes time and practice, but it’s well worth the effort.
As always, I’m here to listen. Reach out to me on Facebook @Journey and Thrive.
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