Ask an adult child who suffered from dysfunction, alcoholism, or abuse while growing up what the idea of ”asking for help” evokes, and they may answer “hesitation,” “restraint,” “trauma,” “confrontation,” and “mistrust.” But why?
I realized that the reasoning is in the wiring, that is, of the brain, and mine was soldered during my upbringing, in other words, the wiring contained the ‘why’, or, in my case, the why not when I arrive. to ask others for this help.
How, surely, is it fair to ask, can you expect help from others, and especially strangers, when your own parents weren’t there for you? Parental “help” may have been more synonymous with abandonment.
My father was a paraalcoholic, who was exposed to the same erratic and unpredictable behavior that he subjected me to, but neither did he know that he was an abused child or that there was something wrong with the treatment he received. And my mother, while loving and caring, grew up with a father who suffered from an explosive personality that could only be suppressed with a quick fix to the game (translated as a full-blown addiction) and she was just as powerless, not to mention. scared, when madness developed in my home environment.
Based on this seeming normality, how and why, I often wondered, would those who didn’t know me about Adam go out of their way to “help” me or even acknowledge my existence? That was what I knew. It was never questioned or corrected, and it certainly seemed to set up the circuits of my brain at a preschool age, perpetually preparing me for rejection and concern.
Subconsciously transported back to my original parental betrayal and the trauma it created, the help amounted to harm, making me feel exposed, even in the present, to a person who may have treated me similarly. Who, I can only ask, would want more of this?
The simple thought re-erects that impenetrable wall that separated me from my father and, ultimately, from others, the one that rumbled: “Pass this line and you’ll be sorry you did!”
By placing the potential help on one side of a seesaw and the potential harm his request could do on the other, he often assessed the lesser of the two evils, even if that risk was nothing more than irrational in nature, the seed of which was planted in the childhood. . As I continue on my road to recovery, I have of course begun to realize that it was.
Desperate times lead to desperate measures, it has often been said, and you usually had to fall into the first category before you even contemplated the second to ask for help. I can only imagine the perplexity of a person who is the product of a safe and loving childhood when trying to understand how seeking the help of another person could be considered a “desperate measure”, much less dangerous. The person, I’m sure, wouldn’t blink when asking, “Could you help me with …”
On the other hand, that person never had the need to cross the wires of his brain the way I did and then experiment and expect the opposite of what would have been considered normal, reasonable and rational. There were times when my father went crazy at the very idea of helping his “enemy.” I thought it was his son …
Exposure to any authority figure later in life was an instantaneous illumination, like a switchboard, of those circuits, followed by the emotional fall into the well known as “victimization.” If being a victim and maybe hurt could be equated with “help” then I’d rather do without it, thank you.
In fact, there were times when my father seemed intolerant of my mere presence and asking him for things was sometimes nothing more than a race between rational request and raising his defensive wall, leaving me unable to reach him. (I later suspected that he was the recipient of the same rejected treatment when he dared the same interaction with his father.) Successful delivery (of what you needed) wasn’t worth it if you had to fear another explosion to get it done. This was certainly one of the circumstances that made me think twice, if not ten times, before “pestering” others for this help, even as an adult.
It also didn’t generate any sense of self-worth or worth, implying that it just wasn’t good enough to even devote the time, attention, or help to it.
Adult children negotiate life, hiding their dark secrets about the deep hole in their souls and the flaws they believe reflect their inherently flawed dowry. They are unaware that this gap was created progressively by parents who suffered from the same deficiencies and projected them onto them. Asking an adult child for help is therefore the equivalent of advertising it, a cry, if you will, of “Hey, world, look at how unworthy and inferior I am! I need your help because I can’t do it myself! “
“I was intimidated by step five, because it meant revealing my darkest secrets to someone else, ‘according to” Courage to Change, “the Al-Anon text (Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters, Inc., 1992, p. 127)” Fearing that I would be rejected for not being perfect, I put so much energy into hiding the truth that even though no one rejected me, I was as isolated and alone as if they had. “
Adult child syndrome forces a person, without choice, into a state of isolated self-reliance, which serves as an outward expression of mistrust in others, the inability to have trusted them when needed, and the last attempt to create an environment. security, protection and stability. Ironically, the more you think you are inadequate and incapable, the more you must dig within yourself to find the resources of the “Jack of all trades” to individually accomplish what you need, transforming you from incapable (in your beliefs) to autonomous (in capacity ). ).
Trust is a duty, but the need for help returns you to a state of helplessness, when the very parents who should have helped you were the same parents who caused your plight and may have become those from whom you most needed protection.
“One effect of alcoholism is that many of us are reluctant to approach people,” according to “Courage to Change” (ibid, p. 363). “We have learned that it is not safe to trust, reveal too much, care deeply. Yet we often wish we could have closer, more loving relationships.”
It may require a significant amount of recovery, during which the fears, trauma, misbeliefs, and distortions raised in a person’s childhood eventually dissolve and allow them to see others in a figure without authority, a light that emulates parents. They care and are concerned, so that you can view their well-intentioned helping actions for what they are and not the potentially damaging offer that your reconfigured brain tries to convince you otherwise.
The ultimate help may come from your creator or from the Higher Power of your understanding. But turning to him can be the most difficult act.
A disconnection and a fall from him may have been, first and foremost, the initial subconscious step toward his disbelief. Leaving him vulnerable and powerless to shame and harm parents without intervention certainly did nothing to instill his trust in an entity that could have protected him from danger and helped him during his greatest time of need. And finally, whatever he associates with his earthly parents, he eventually clings to his eternal father, assigning him the same qualities of condemnation and punishment, until he can no longer see through this distorted filter.
Once again, it requires considerable recovery, during which your distortions dissolve and you rise to a level of wholeness, before you can embrace God again and regain enough faith and confidence to ask for the help you need.
“I have an important role to play in my relationship with my Higher Power,” according to “Courage to Change” (ibid, p. 48). “I have to be willing for help and I have to ask for it. If I develop the habit of turning to my Higher Power for help with small, everyday issues, I will know what to do when faced with more difficult challenges.”
Article sources:
“Courage to change”. Virginia Beach, Virginia: Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters, Inc., 1992.