Unraveling My Thread of Unworthiness
I was recently sharing my experience as to why I quit the candy business that I had successfully begun back in Idaho about 8 years ago. For me the venture had evolved unexpectedly from a place of passion, purpose and tradition, turning into a fulfilled dream that awakened my talent and sense of self. I excelled at it, from the marketing, to the colors and packaging, to the candy itself. I had never felt that accomplished about anything and I was so excited at being able to contribute some financial stability for my 2nd husband and our kids (he had 3, I had 3).
As I would learn, slowly and painfully, I was married to a very jealous, insecure man at the time, who was gaslighting me and threatened by my success. It didn’t matter that I worked my day job while doing this for us or that everything I made went back into our joint funds. Or even that I had found something I was really good at and derived a sense of purpose from. In fact, that was the likely catalyst for his deeply wounded, destructive self to emerge. My confidence stared him down and called him out, so he had to break me, make me feel small. And because he knew me, he knew exactly what buttons to push. We had talked about my dreams and plans for us and I continued to put every spare minute into the operations, knowing it was already turning a profit. He waited until I felt really good about the direction it was going and then on a family vacation, in a secluded beach house that the business paid for, without provocation and in front of my daughter, he exploded and threw everything he had at me. Every fucking thing I had ever shared with him was turned against me, every insecurity twisted into a weapon to cut me down to size. He was cruel, insulting, brutal. He verbally attacked me as a person, called me selfish, among other things, accused me of wanting to do this so I could leave him. He blew up so suddenly and out of the blue that I was stunned. I was also terrified. He was tall, strong and angry. Although he’d never hit me, I saw something dark in him and I knew he could take me out with one single blow. For my daughter’s safety and my own understanding I tried to reason with him, reassure him, diffuse the situation. I had no arsenal big enough with which to fight, because that’s just not who I am. None of my communication skills worked and I couldn’t begin to wrap my brain around the words he was screaming at me, how he saw me, or this kind of abusive taunting from someone who pretended to be my biggest supporter and should have loved me unconditionally.
Ultimately though, I gave it all up. My business. A part of myself. I made a choice.
And as I recounted this story, present day, the tears flowed and the broken pieces all started to fall into place. Yes, back then it was hard to hear, but easy for me to believe all the hateful, irrational things that were pouring from my now ex husband like hot lava, the man who had, in the beginning, opened me up to such love that I imagined it would carry us forever. Even as he yelled at me and I knew it wasn’t right, it was no stretch for my subconscious to latch onto my own unworthiness and choose a broken marriage over the success I had gained but never really felt I deserved. His volatile reaction pushed play on a negative tape that had lived in my head and felt like second nature to believe.
Those were familiar feelings.
Growing up in a home of brokenness, dysfunction and unresolved trauma that distorted truth had exposed me to every kind of depravity, abuse and neglect. Being insignificant and small was drilled into me, like an early education. As a result I spent a great deal of time as an adult plowing through some grueling memories and rewiring my brain to bring myself to a healthy space. By the time I met Brad, I was strong and self aware. I thought he was finally all the good things I deserved. I never imagined how things would spiral and that our love and the goodness we had shared to blend our families had nothing to do with any of this and would never be enough.
So how did this happen? How, after years of gut wrenching, soul searching work and all I had seen and been through, could I have been so stupid, so blind? For all my personal growth I still ended up with very different, but abusive relationships in both my first and second marriages and I didn’t see it coming. There is a weight of shame and guilt that comes with that.
But here’s the truth. I didn’t see it coming because I didn’t recognize it. That’s because abuse is insidious, sinister and doesn’t look the same way twice.
When we are growing through and healing from any form of abuse, pain, trauma or neglect…
We don’t know what we don’t know.
That sounds so obvious but it’s not. We beat ourselves because we forget that it is not a place we arrive at but an ongoing process of learning through layers and unbecoming the lies and misconceptions we were taught to believe about ourselves.
I don’t say any of this proudly, but I no longer carry shame for it either.
I share it, because abuse is an epidemic and we have to create safe places to share our stories so we can change the endings.
It was a pivotal and defining moment for me to have this experience and also recount it now realizing just how far I’d been willing to grow. It’s not easy work, it takes time and fierce commitment to face the realities of the decisions we made when we didn’t know any better. It’s not about blame, it’s about owning it so we can change our patterns, see the signs, hold out for what we deserve. It’s about forgiving ourselves.
My sheer will to do what is necessary and the strength to be alone have been two of my most powerful qualities. I left him when I loved him, knowing things would just continue to get worse. I took what I knew, I kept going, and I grew my way better from there.
I have since unraveled and released those last few threads of the unworthiness that never really belonged to me.
