kaberett | One day you finally knew

My immediate reaction to Captain Awkward #1141 was "-- SWEETHEART do I EVER have some advice for you --"

... and I'd already composed half a reply in my head, and then got to the bottom and found comments were, entirely understandably, turned off.

So: kiddo. Kiddo. (Is it obvious I'm addressing myself?) When you say:

I had a pretty terrible childhood and for my mental health am not in contact with either of my parents anymore, so I keep worrying that maybe this is all a by-product of not being taught how to human correctly and there’s just something deeply and fundamentally wrong with me that is causing me to take a great relationship and fuck it all up.

... I'm pretty confident in stating that what's actually going on, in as close to 100% of cases as makes no odds, is that while having a shitty childhood does indeed impair your ability to judge whether the relationship you're in is great, it does so in his favour.

The issue isn't that you're being too demanding of him; the issue is that you're not being demanding enough. It's less bad than your childhood, so it's substantially expanded your horizons to Better Than You Could Imagine...

... but it's still, fundamentally, shitty -- but the problem is your shitty childhood severely impairs your ability to imagine anything better, and your ability to believe that anything better exists and that you deserve it.

So you blame yourself, because you know how to do that, and it helps you feel like you're in control and you can make it better, and even when it's a lie that helps you to survive.

So, darling, no: your deep yawning sense that something is wrong, very badly wrong, is bang on. The fact that you default to assuming that whatever's wrong is you is... not. This is not you fucking up something great. It's the beginnings of the whisper that'll guide you to saving the only life you can save -- to getting free.

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From:

kaberett

(Hey, Alex? Maybe if people who've known you for almost a decade decide that, after all that, after all this, they've more sympathy and understanding and compassion for a violent politics that dehumanises you, there's nothing you can do. Maybe there's no magic way you can be good enough, no magic thing to say, that you can say, that will convince them. Maybe you get to let go of trying, of that desperate driving sense of responsibility. Maybe you get to mourn them and move on. Maybe you'r'e still valid and valuable and worthwhile even if you can't convince them of that. They've had a decade; one last conversation isn't going to do it.)