I’ve always felt a little different than everyone else, like no matter how much I tried, I didn’t quite connect with people the way I wanted to. I’ve always been more sensitive than others, easily upset by unexpected loud sounds or other sensory input. My emotional needs weren’t met in childhood and I was punished for showing any kind of emotion. There was a lot of tension in my childhood home and I learned to pay close attention to the moods of my parents. I believe my visual impairment and not being able to see certain visual cues made events in my early childhood home more frightening for me. I believe I was resented for my disability and my sensitivity. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t behave exactly how my parents wanted me to behave. I think I embarrassed my parents by being disabled and with my emotional reactions.
Here’s an example of being an embarrassment for being disabled. When I would go out to stores with my mom, she would refuse to guide me. I have usable vision, but it takes a lot of work to visually track someone through a store and follow them. My sister told me she remembers that happening once when I was really young, and that she saw the hurt on my face and from then on out, if she was with us, she always guided me. This happened anytime I was out in public with my mom. In 2014, I went to New York City with my mom and niece. The final straw was when we were trying to catch a cab and my mom and niece left me behind to get one, and then started yelling at me to “come on, hurry up.” I didn’t know where they were and I was scared to walk through traffic in the dark without a cane to identify me as legally blind. On the other hand, my dad never acted like he was embarrassed by my disability. I can remember my dad holding my hand out in public and even yelling at my brother for dragging a bag through a store, causing my dad to get distracted in run me into a clothing rack.
I may not embarrass my dad by being disabled, but I do embarrass him with my emotional reactions, I can remember going to a Japanese restaurant with my dad, siblings, and stepmom. I didn’t know what to expect and no one gave me any kind of warning, so when flames randomly shot up in front of me, I immediately scooted my chair all the way back to the wall behind me, covered my face, and started crying. I got yelled at for how I was acting instead of being reassured that everything was okay. Many years later, I went to another Japanese restaurant with my mom. I asked her to tap my hand just before any trick that involved flames. She did, and I was totally fine and I actually enjoyed myself.
Through my childhood experiences, I learned to pay close attention to the way other people are responding to me and adjust my behavior or withdraw accordingly. I learned to hold in any emotion or anxiety until the point that it comes out against my will. This can look like me appearing completely calm in a situation and then randomly bursting into tears. This happened several years ago at a party. I don’t like balloons, at all. They freak me out. We were in a crowded house with a lot of little kids. They were playing with balloons. I kept trying to distance myself from the balloons until I ended up backed into a corner, surrounded by people, standing next to my dad who hates my emotional outbursts. Eventually tears just started streaming down my face. My niece saw and came over to ask if I was okay. This only served the purpose of making me cry even harder. To my mom’s credit, she noticed and knew I needed a break, so she asked me to go into another room with her. This gave me a chance to collect myself before going back into the room with everyone else. For the rest of the time, I stayed on the outside of the crowd, close to the exit. After that, I declined to go to those parties. It’s just too much for me.
I was taught from an early age that who I am is not acceptable, that I need to constantly modify my behavior to be accepted and loved by others. So, imagine how I felt when I met someone who seemingly accepted me for me. I felt like I could tell this person anything and they wouldn’t judge me for it. I felt like, after all the work I’ve done on my own, I could start healing through relationships. This experience showed me what is possible. I am seeking out more connections with people who support me 100% and don’t shame me for responding differently than others might. I’m learning to meet my own needs and accommodate myself even if it upsets family members or makes me stand out. I’m. Learning that I am worthy of acceptance and that I am not too much. How other people respond to me is a reflection of their own inner battles and what they need to work on for themselves. I am deserving of reciprocal relationships that reflect the love I give back to me. I am so grateful for the few truly safe relationships I have now. Truly being accepted by others is so healing.
If you resonated with this post, I highly recommend listening to this song: Maren Morris - To Hell and Back