In my last post, I wrote about how angry I used to get when my father would push my buttons, and how now I need more than anything for you to admit that I’m right, or have a very good reason why you won’t.
Until yesterday, I didn’t understand the link between those two things; I only knew that it was there. But now I know what it was I was being denied, and what it is that I crave now.
Validation.
Yesterday, while roaming the internet, I came across this article on the Friends for Mental Health website. Sheryl Bruce provides an overview of a book written by Valerie Porr, and describes the ways in which children’s feelings are invalidated:
For example it could be that the behaviour of the child is overly intense and parents react in strong ways –ignoring, telling the child they are over dramatic, shouting, hitting or disciplining. None of these ways validate a child’s feelings; in fact they are the opposite. Any time that you deny what the person is feeling they are not being validated.
So. Denying my rage at being mocked for idolizing a science fiction author? Invalidating.
Telling me to grow a thicker skin when I was teased? Invalidating.
Telling me that my fear that a parent will leave me if I speak honestly is nonsense? Invalidating.
And so the rage builds until the day you find yourself thinking about suicide. More rage, and you find yourself creating new wounds on your body. More rage, and you start to push back against your love ones, daring them to leave you and prove you right. Anything to feel in control again.
Yesterday I cried for the little girl I used to be, and the rage she is still screaming out in my head, in my body. I wanted to hold her, soothe her, tell her that her rage is perfectly understandable, that her feelings are perfectly valid. That she is valid, and needed and loved.
Look at that little girl, frozen in a moment where she is so trusting and vulnerable. Remember that little girl. There is so little time between “Oh, don’t you look great in that hat!” and “You’re not going out dressed like that, are you?”
So little time.
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