Not forgetful: just traumatized...

Note: I recently began a new job. I have two new coworkers: Kim is a few years younger than I. We have worked together before. He's a good guy, but has temper issues. He comes from a similarly abusive home: I now realize that is why I always understood him so well. I also have a new coworker named Joe, who is a certifiable narcissist. These two coworkers will be figuring prominently in my journal for a while.

Kim said, “I have social anxiety about meeting new people.” I thought, “I know. I have that too.”

Then I thought…I have anxiety because I am assuming that people will be harsh with me, just like my dad was.

I told him later, “I am a forgetful person.” I regretted it as soon as I said it. Am I a forgetful person? Certainly, I am not as good at remembering details as my wife — but then, very few people are as good at remembering things as she is. She is a very organized person. I think I am more average: I think a lot of people are like myself.

But when I get really flustered, and do really stupid things, it is because I am stressed. And why am I stressed? Likely, because I am reliving childhood anxiety. I am assuming that people I don’t know will be like my dad: they will come down hard on me for my mistakes, and so I focus so hard on being perfect that I forget silly things, and then my dad’s voice in my head judges my harshly.

"Bright boy!"
"That wasn't very smart, now was it?"
"Why don't you just...think for once?"
"Just...go. Let me clean this up. You've done enough..."
"This is the third one you've messed up this week. Do you know how much that will cost me?!"

Why was my dad so hard on me?

Someone might say, “he was hard on us because he loved us.” But I’m not sure that’s true. He didn’t drive us to perfection like a loving but disciplined father would. He just “freaked out” when we made mistakes. He said that I was sensitive, and my brothers could take it. But I’m not sure now that they really took it any better — just differently.

I think he was hard on us because he saw us as an extension of himself. And he thought that he was perfect, and could never be wrong.

And so when we, as children, would come to a new situation, he would expect us to instantly know how to do it right — the first time. If we tried something new, and didn’t get it right (especially if we broke something, or caused a mess) we could expect to hear an outburst of rage, shame, and maybe sarcasm, such as,

“Well, good going.”
“You sure weren’t thinking.”
“Open your eyes! Obviously, you do it this way….”
“Nice going, bright boy”

Sometimes, if we really messed up (costing money) he would rage on and on. I remember one time I lost a part of a carbourator, while helping him in the shop. He raged and raged and raged. I felt so stupid, and so small. I just wanted to leave that shop and never, ever, ever fix anything again. But I wasn’t allowed to leave, because that was my summer job/chores. His words were just so harsh.

Why would he put us so often in difficult situations? Very often, he would give us children adult tasks to do, such as fixing a lawnmower, or driving the car (on the ice-road). These experiences weren’t all bad. Sometimes we succeeded, and he did push us to learn new things. But when we failed, the consequences were painful, and damaging.

Why did he do it?

Of course, in some way, he was pushing us for our good. “Even you, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children.” (Mat. 7:11) However, there was also a selfishness. Again, he saw us as an extension of himself. And he was in a desperate, narcissistic competition with the world. And so he wanted his children to be able to ride motorbikes, and fix cars, and read the bible, and do various tasks better than other people. He wanted us to be able to come to a new situation, and figure out instantly how to make something work…because if we did, that meant that he did (at least, that “my boy” did). But if we failed (and we failed often, because he put us up to tasks too difficult for us) then he felt like he failed. And a narcissist is not able to process failure. It causes narcissistic injury, leading to narcissistic rage.

And that rage poured out on us, and especially on myself. The more it came, the more I froze. And the more I froze, the more I did stupid things, causing more rage.

And that is why I have described myself as “forgetful,” and “shy” and sometimes “fumbly” and “I do stupid things.” Not because I actually am any of these things. But because I was parented by a narcissist, who was living out his own dysfunction through us. Instead of patiently coaching us through life, he was living out his narcissistic competition with the world through us: and when we failed him, he made us pay.

And I am still paying the price of his immaturities to this day: but less so as I find healing for these matters.