I am going to take a second to reflect on why it is I stress-eat. Bear with me. A whole lot of gut-spilling is on deck.

Was it really trauma?  Was it actually abuse?  Was it truly neglect?

Something I’ve begun to truly confront in recent months is whether or not certain experiences I had while growing up actually qualified as trauma, abuse, or neglect. In thinking back on my 20’s I realized the tremendous number of excuses that I have made for the people in my life.  The people who were responsible for shaping me into a functioning human, but did not take that responsibility seriously.  And in exploring my own traumas I’ve been able to reflect many of the things that scarred me. Whenever the darker memories in my subconscious have come back to me I would find myself explaining them away.

“He loves me, he definitely didn’t mean what he said.”

“It was just a mistake.  She had no idea that would hurt my feelings.”

“Dad wanted to be at my birthday.  He just got busy and couldn’t make it.“

“My brother skipped my college graduation…

He must have had something more important come up.”

Now here’s my line in the sand. Because the fact of the matter is – these memories exist for a reason.  If they did not cause permanent harm to me, then why would they stay there in the recesses of my brain?  If I wasn’t truly hurt by what these people have done, then why did their behavior leave such a huge, gaping wound on my psyche?  And in making excuses for people simply because I love them or because they’re “family” I have exonerated them from any blame.  They are no longer accountable for their actions, even when they absolutely should be. The advice that I am desperately trying to follow myself?

Stop excusing the inexcusable, and stand up for your goddamn self.

At the risk of opening up my closet and letting all of the skeletons fall out, there are a few specific memories that haunt me.  And I mean they plague me.  Some occurred years ago, but still pop up at night while I try to fall asleep. They jab at me until I can’t take it anymore and I turn on the TV just to drown out the sound of them.  They are memories of things that were never my fault, and yet I blame myself whenever they resurface.  I am 29 years old and still I am convinced that when people hurt me it is because I am unlovable.  I am unapproachable.  I am annoying and people would rather not have me around.  Why else would they find it so easy to be rude and hurtful to me when they aren’t to anyone else? The slights and snubs that happened to me when I was a child, big or small, affected who I ended up becoming as an adult.  And no matter how many times I tell myself that I am worth it, I am intelligent, and I am fun, at the root of who I am is a vulnerable and insecure little girl.  I already know that I will spend my entire life in this battle.  And I will sacrifice friendships, family members, and my own peace as I conquer each battle in my effort to win the war.

 I have a bit of news for you, and I hope it will save you a lot of unnecessary time dissecting your own traumas.

No slight, snub, insult, or hurtful deed is too small to damage you.

If someone causes you pain, quit dismissing it. You are worth more than that. Allow yourself to feel it, and remind yourself that no matter what the cause is and no matter who the offender is, you do not need to accept it. If you feel insulted, then you are justified. If you feel ignored, then you are justified. If you feel hurt, then you are justified. Do not let people diminish your feelings and make you believe that you are being dramatic. Trauma is trauma, and the small ones can sometimes hurt more than the big ones. People who gaslight you and make you feel small are assholes, and you’re a warrior.

Without going into specifics of the bullying and intense isolation I experienced in some of my most formative years, I can tell you that both at home and in public I became a master of disguising the very real depression that had sprung up inside me from an intense combination of family genetics and external stressors. For the better part of 15 years the people who love me did not know what was going on, and it wasn’t even their fault. On the outside I was (most of the time) a highly functioning young adult. The sad part is – had I let them in, they would have helped me. In retrospect suffering alone was stupid, but I know that at the time I thought it was my only choice.

I had learned as a child what it meant to be humiliated, ignored, and judged and it turned me into an adult that cannot mentally handle being humiliated, disregarded, and judged. It wasn’t until college that I was able to be my true self, surrounded by a new network of friends that would become my family.  A family that I chose. I developed self confidence and a sense of humor and felt worthy.  Eventually the scars from the self-harm faded, the feeling of suffocation gave way to fresh air, and I allowed myself to grow without restrictions because I no longer had anyone oppressing me for exploring my own life.

The memories I have in my head are persistent, and they are loud.  They are the ghosts of terrible experiences that set the framework for who I would become, and I see their shadows every time I overthink and overstress about things that I should be able to let go.  These things happened, they were malicious, and I am entitled to feel however I feel about them. Unfortunately the people around me have been allowed to say and do whatever they want without any fear of consequence while I am judged for everything I do and say. No matter how well intentioned I am I’m not allowed to make mistakes, and if I do I am never allowed any benefit of the doubt. The things that are done to me are overlooked, explained away, and easily forgiven by people I would expect to defend me.  And when I am ignored yet again, I turn back into the 11-year-old girl who wasn’t allowed to be herself and stayed in the dark until it was safe to come out.  So lately I’ve made the choice to be selfish.  I am cutting the toxicity out of my life, and anyone who doesn’t like it can (quite frankly) fuck off. They are worth far more to me as a lesson learned.

The point of this gut-spilling blog post is – if someone hurts you, tell them.  They are not perfect, though so many of them pretend they are.  They are so quick to hold up a mirror to the rest of the world while they accuse and blame and judge everyone around them, but refuse to take a look into it themselves.  But it is important to remember that anyone who is capable of criticizing you can also criticize themselves.  It just takes courage to look inward and make changes, and courage is likely something they don’t have.  Perhaps they’re a work in progress.  Or perhaps they simply don’t care to be better people.  But regardless of their motives or the outcome, you need to speak your truth to them.  The way they respond to it is not in your control, and it is not a reflection of you.

If you approach the situation with a little sensitivity, a lot of thought, and even more bravery then you can encourage growth both in yourself and (hopefully) in the other person. But always remember – you can come to them and plan to be understanding of their feelings, but never let that cross over into complacent acceptance.  Regardless of how defensive, accusatory, or angry they get you never need to accept someone else’s bad treatment of you.  You’ve done your job.  Now walk away, and do not look back.