The futility has been sneaking in over this past week. It has been building just outside of my conscious awareness. This is what futility does. It doesn’t want to be noticed. It reminds me of the frog in the water as it heats up. It doesn’t know what’s happening until it’s too late. Maybe that’s depressing, but isn’t that the point? That’s exactly what futility is. It is depression. It is hopelessness. It tells you that nothing is okay. And while it is a flashback, our parts have some incredible skills. They can take the most intense futility on your best day and give you a convincing story about why it is about this moment. They do it so well.
The futility makes it hard to move. It feels like I am walking through 4 feet of mucky, swampy yuck just to do the most basic tasks. But I don’t need to tell you what it feels like. You know exactly what it feels like. You know what it feels like to be paralyzed. And that’s why we have to move. We have to move just enough to hear its message. We have to write down the real story about what it felt like to be trapped in a world of nasty, abusive people. We have to hear out the parts who think they are obligated to uphold the “contracts” with abusive people from childhood. But to start, it helps to hear what it sounds like now. What is the flashback being translated to right now? Here are some examples of what I am hearing.
“I’m never going to get better.” Just when I start feeling better, something happens to remind me that I’m not. There’s a dysfunctional behavior or an intense emotion I can’t stop from impacting my life. The very cyclical nature of recovery makes this inevitable. You feel better and then you feel worse. And every time you start to feel worse, the futility will come with it to tell you it will never get better. What a perfectly orchestrated train wreck! Thank you, universe. You are so clever. Now I have to take twice as long to work through how I feel because there is a layer of “why bother” on top of it. Sometimes I have conversations with the universe when I feel this way. I say they asked too much of me. I say this just isn’t possible. The obstacle course is not possible for a human being. And I’m not going to play the game anymore. Giving up seems like a much better idea. But what if the goal is not some perfectly healed person? What if there is no finish line to emotional development? I don’t know.
“It’s never going to get easier.” Living life as an adult is really hard. But living life as an adult with depression feels impossible. I am trying to figure out how to get the basics done. That long list of tasks like car inspections and census responses just makes it all seem totally pointless. And then add in a few massive crises in the world around me. Why am I trying? My controller has this completely distorted view that one day, all the things will be done. So when that never happens, they bitch and moan about how my futility is the cause of it. If I just pretended my past never happened, I would be able to get all the things done. But guess what! I tried that! I tried that for years and the stuff didn’t get done. Why? The stuff is never EVER going to get done. That’s the point. But the futility loves to tell me that means there is no point. I should just give up because the stuff will never get done. But what if the stuff is never supposed to get done? What if that isn’t the point of life in the first place? I don’t know.
“There’s no place for me here.” When it feels like I am an imposter, it can be so difficult to live in the world without wanting to give up. It is so convincing too. It helps that I talk to people all day long who are fighting this same fight. But some days, it can feel like the zombie apocalypse where 0.0005% of the population is awake. And maybe it’s okay to have surface friendships. It doesn’t feel as bad as it used to. But I have parts who are screaming for authentic conversation, real deep discussions about the human experience. And so many people want to talk about their new car and the floors they just put in their living room. I don’t care. I know that’s mean. But I don’t. And most people run from what I am talking about. And I get why they do it. Emotional healing is the hardest thing on the planet. I hate it. It’s messy and it’s unfair and it sucks. But I can’t live in zombie land. And my futility says to give up on this place. But what if there are enough of us waking up? What if we can tip the scales if we don’t give up? I don’t know.
When we hear these stories start to repeat in our minds, it is time to wonder. We won’t always have the strength to wonder. But if we can let ourselves consider where these messages might be coming from and what might be underneath them, we can hear the real story. It’s not easy. Some days, it feels impossible. But it must be possible. It has to be.
Whoa, this sharing is saving me right now. It is SO. SPOT. ON. I have been REALLY struggling…. futility, despair, you name it. Thank you for this, Elisabeth.
I am so glad this is helping you. It helps me to share it.
This resonates so deeply with me. Especially, the part about feeling like we’re among a tiny percentage of people who are awake … that we’re living in zombie land where everyone wants to talk about superficial shit that doesn’t matter. Sometimes this makes me feel so alone that it terrifies me … even though I’m surrounded by many people. There are days when this healing journey feels so lonely and scary and pointless. For me, today is one of those days. As always, your articles are so timely, Elisabeth. And, even though I’m sad that you’re struggling, too, it makes me feel a little better knowing I’m not alone with these feelings. There’s a part of me—my grounded adult (core) self—that refuses to give up, that says, “Tomorrow will be better, Honey. Promise.”
So true Gina! Thank goodness for that grounded adult self.
SO true!! It feels like I’m an alien sometimes, but there ARE enough of us waking up..little by little and it is help from people like Elizabeth, thank you, and those who join these communities that help with the isolation. Zombie Land…omgoodness!! I LOVE that! It is like everyone is on auto-pilot and sharing all the nice-ities of their lovely little lives while they silence any authentic truth by “focusing on the positive” blah blah blah!! I count my blessings also because there are many and I want to appreciate the good things, but I refuse to negate my true not-so-nice feelings so that someone else is ‘comfortable.’
Yes! Keep being true to yourself!
Today is a heavy day. Yesterday I confronted my narcissistic mom. It took all of my already exhausted energy. I felt like I was set back a few steps. I cried and then I cried some more and then I cried some more. Of course my mom made it about her and her hardships and claims that she never knew how sad or unhappy or alone I was. I’m like you mean you rejecting, shaming, blaming and abandoning me didn’t give you a hint? It’s amazing you said you love me and I’m a blessing but yet you had no clue of my isolated loneliness in our dysfunctional family dynamics. You had no clue that I was drowning in that closet. You bring up your dysfunctional childhood and cry in front of me to manipulate and not own your part in my life trauma. You claim you didn’t know but was it that you didn’t care. You didn’t acknowledge me, still. It became about you and your hardships but yet your concerned about me. Your concerned about my well being but it was all about you yesterday, again. I was placed in the sidelines again without your validation. And if I asked if you heard me you quickly said yes so you could continue to talk about yourself, again. I was your responsible one in the family. The only acceptance I was in your eyes. Once I started saying no, then something wad wrong with me. I was a disappointment to you because I couldn’t provide or serve your demands your needs anymore. Made to feel inadequate. You may never see me for me. But I love you anyway. Forgive me Lord.
This is something I could have wrote, yet you feel love and want forgiveness fir your thoughts. I can’t feel love. I’ve got rage and resentment on the daily. Bravo to you for your bravery. You validated yourself even though she refused to. I too feel like a bad daughter every time I say no. It’s manipulating and brainwashing. We deserve our own lives. They are the evil ones. Much love to you.
I was walking home from the store tonight because I had to force myself to go outside. I’ve been feeling pretty futile myself so it’s good to know that we’re all feeling the same way. The thought came to me what am I doing this for? What is all this hard work, painful realizations, feeling isolated what is it all for? I have no answer but as you say we have to remember that there are good days and if we can just hang in there, together, till that good day comes back. Thank you Elizabeth for your honesty and for always making us feel like we’re part of some thing, maybe for the first time in our lives.
Love to you Beth! We are part of something. We are working through this together.
Oh these statements are so familiar and almost always present in me. Still. I try to imagine that they might lessen over time. And the feel the grief of all the days and years until now. Thank you for teaching me that so much of what I feel and «know» is a flashback! Love.
From a hope standpoint, I can confirm that it is less than it was and I am better at processing it than I was. But I know we are all dealing with this as we journey.
Thank you Elizabeth. I don’t want all of you here to feel so bad. I want you to feel better and help me feel that recovery happens. At the same time I am so thankful for you. I am somewhat new to this and feel really really alone. Why does my daughter send me text that make me the most evil person. I feel helpless. She can’t know me and there is nothing I can do about it. Yes, the feelings are a flashback and that is helpful to remember but why are the bad events still happening? It feels like I am trying to heal while someone is beating me over the head with a stick.
It can definitely feel like that. The patterns can feel like punishment. At the same time, if the patterns weren’t playing out now, we probably would not heal the past because the triggers would not be there. There would be no gateway to our emotional healing. But it is awful. I know that.
I was watching an episode of Iyanlla Fix My Life with my wife. It was about a two sisters whose mother chose drugs over them. The older sister took the position of the mom and the other sister became an alcoholic. The “mom sister” took care and enabled little alcoholic sister. Iyanlla said something that resonated with me. She says mom has her addictions. Little sister has her addictions but what do you have, she says to the “mom sister?” What are your addictions. She said I guess I’m addicted to caring for my baby sis and enabling her. I’m addicted to the victim mentality. My safe place is being in survivor’s remorse she says. My safe place is burdening myself with my little alcoholic sister’s addictions and problems. I carry her guilt along with mine. I carry that burden of carrying her no matter the cost of my own well being. Her life was on hold, the mom sister, she was even living separate from the love of her life because of her caring for her baby sis.
I saw myself in this position so much with my mom, my family. Every member of my family was addicted to drugs and alcohol except myself and my mom. But I took the role on being the responsible level headed one in the family. Everyone knew I was going to take care of mom so they were free to roam around with their drug habits comfortably and burden free. The only recognition I received in the family is when I was saving the day. If I wasn’t saving the day then I was off no use. This was a position enforced by my mother, the culprit of giving guilt ridden duties to maintain family dysfunctionality at its finest. And I embraced it, it was the only attention I was receiving.
I took another look at myself. I looked at the part that says, you must take care of the family. You are the saver for the day. I looked at myself while I was watching this show and I said to myself, is this my addiction, putting myself in harm’s way when I had no business being there. Was this my form of an escape route as to avoid the pain of my childhood trauma. Was my addiction being the victim. I can see how this may be but I don’t quite comprehend it in its entirety. Then I began thinking. My boundaries that I have set for my narcissistic mother, could that be my al-anon meeting. Could that be my healing, my therapy.
I had a dream the other night, mom told me she was tired. You have to know that as a child when my mom said those words after a brutal family fight, I would run to her rescue and trip over myself to save her and make her happy and comfortable, greatest form of people pleaser. Well, I see she’s getting frail and older with her aches and pains. She’s 82, and in this dream, I didn’t run to her rescue. I simply stood up, walked over to her and gave her a kiss on her cheek and said, I know you’re tired and accepted it. I’ve never done that before (gave up control) but I did in my dream. I was always so afraid to lose mom. To see her in pain. It scared the shit out of me as a child. I think this dream subconsciously let me know two things, she’ll be ok and her mental pain is not my responsibility.
So the futility is there, the hopelessness, the guilt, all present, but I also am beginning to embrace my boundaries, my mean kid, my karma kid, my controllers. Piece by piece, I can see a glimpse of hope, of joy, a twinge of tickled happiness that gives me butterflies in my belly. I still burst into tears here and there. I still have an overwhelming sadness. But I’m learning to hug and love my parts, one second, one minute at a time. Thanks Elizabeth.
Wow Regina! You are having some powerful realizations about your role with your mother and in your family. The more you set those boundaries, the more you will free yourself from they said you had to be.
I wanted to touch on the subject of zombie conversations. Last night my wife said in an almost condescending voice, or I took it as that. She said you should be a counselor, you always go too deep into thinking about situations like it was something bad. She said that’s not for me, I’m not interested in what others have to say. This stung and ticked me off. I felt minimized and invalidated. And at the same time I realized she was only protecting her walls. Afraid herself to face her own pain. Not my place to say but I think that’s what I see. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about anybody’s flooring or new car. I want to talk openly about my brokenness, your brokenness, raw. I want to cry in front of you and I want the same from you. Let’s talk about the abuse, the fear, the joy we want to feel. It’s OK to have real talk, real conversations about life.
It is hard to find people who are willing to go there, but it really do make a difference.