Ask an adult child who experienced dysfunction, alcoholism, or abuse during their upbringing what the idea of ”asking for help” evokes, and they may respond with “hesitation,” “restraint,” “trauma,” “confrontation,” and “distrust.” But why?
I realized that the reasoning is in the wiring of the brain, that is, and mine was welded during my upbringing; in other words, the wiring contained the ‘why’ or, in my case, the why not when it arrived. ask others for this help.
How, it is certainly 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 he did not know that he was an abused child or that there was anything wrong with his treatment. And my mother, while loving and caring, grew up with a father who suffered from an explosive personality that could only be quelled with a quick dose of gaming (translated as a full-blown addiction) and she was just as powerless, not to mention scared- when madness developed in my family environment.
Based on this apparent normalcy, how and why, I often wondered, would those who had not known me since Adam go out of their way to “help” me or even acknowledge my existence? This was what he knew. It was never questioned or corrected, and it certainly seemed to wire my brain circuitry at a preschool age, perpetually setting me up for rejection and uneasiness.
Subconsciously transported back to my original parental betrayal and the trauma it created, helping equals harm, making me feel exposed, even in the present, to a person who may have treated me similarly. Who, can I only ask, would want more of this?
The mere thought re-erects that impenetrable wall that separated me from my father and, ultimately, from others, the one that rumbled, “Cross this line and you’ll be sorry you did!”
Placing potential help on one side of a seesaw and potential harm your question might do on the other, I often weighed the lesser of 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 recovery path, I have begun to realize, of course, that it was.
Desperate times lead to desperate measures, it has often been said, and I usually had to fall into the former category before even contemplating the latter of asking 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 someone else’s help could be considered a “desperate measure”, let alone dangerous. I’m sure you wouldn’t bat an eye when you asked, “Could you help me with…”
On the other hand, that person never had the need to cross-wire their brain like I did and then experience and expect the opposite of what would have been considered normal, reasonable, and rational. There were times when my father was furious at the very idea of helping his “enemy.” I thought it was his son…
Exposure to any authority figure later in life was an instant, switchboard-like illumination of those circuits, followed by the emotional plunge into the pit known as ‘victimhood’. If being victimized and perhaps harmed could be equated with “help” then I’d rather go without it, thanks.
In fact, there were times when my father seemed intolerant of my very presence and asking him for things was sometimes nothing more than a race between rational request and putting up his defensive wall, leaving me unable to reach him. (I later suspected that he had received the same rejected treatment when he dared the same interaction with his father). It was hardly worth the successful delivery (of whatever it was he needed) if he had to fear another reactivated explosion to accomplish it. This was certainly one of the circumstances that made me think twice, if not ten times, about ‘bothering’ others for this help, even as an adult.
It also didn’t generate any sense of self-worth or worth, implying that he just wasn’t good enough to give her the time, attention, or help.
Adult children negotiate life, hiding their deep, dark secrets about the deep hole in their souls and the flaws they believe reflect their inherently flawed endowment. They ignore that this gap was progressively created by parents who suffered from the same deficiencies and projected them onto them. Asking for help, from an adult child, is thus the equivalent of advertising it, a cry, so to speak, of “Hey, world, look 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 another person,” 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 being less than perfect, I put so much energy into hiding the truth that even though no one rejected me, I was just as isolated and alone as if they had.”
The adult child syndrome forces a person, without choice, into a state of isolated self-sufficiency, which serves as an outward expression of distrust of others, the inability to have trusted them when needed, and the last attempt to create a relationship . environment of security, protection and stability. Ironically, the more he believes he is inadequate and incapable, the more he must dig within himself to find the “jack of all trades” resources to individually achieve what he needs, transforming him from incapable (in belief) to autonomous (in ability). . ).
Trust is a must, but asking for help returns you to a state of helplessness, when the very parents who should have helped you were the very ones who caused your situation and may have become the ones you most needed protection from.
“One effect of alcoholism is that many of us are reluctant to approach people,” according to ‘Courage to Change’ (ibid, p. 363). “We’ve learned that it’s not safe to trust, to reveal too much, to care deeply. Yet we often wish we could experience closer, more loving relationships.”
It may require a significant amount of recovery, during which the fears, traumas, misbeliefs, and distortions generated in a person’s childhood finally dissolve and allow them to see others in a non-authoritative figure, emulating the light of parents who care and care, so that you can see your well-intentioned helping actions for what they are and not the potentially harmful offer your rewired brain is trying to talk you out of.
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 the initial subconscious step towards his disbelief in the first place. Leaving him vulnerable and powerless before embarrassed and harmful 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 need. And finally, whatever he associates with his earthly father, he eventually binds to his eternal father, assigning him the same qualities of damnation and punishment, until he can no longer see through this distorted filter.
Again, it requires a considerable amount of recovery, during which his distortions dissolve and he rises to a level of wholeness, before he can once again embrace God and regain enough faith and trust to ask for the help he needs. .
“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 to receive help, and I have to ask for it. If I develop the habit of asking my Higher Power for help with small, everyday matters, 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.