Hunter "luz Better Think I'm The Coolest Guy Around" Deamonne

༺2006༻

When I listen to my mother talk about me as a child, I feel such an overwhelming confusion and disconnect. With the way she remembers me, it would seem as if I had no clear personality of my own. I hardly cried or laughed as a baby, I never got into trouble to the point that I'd never even been disciplined, I followed all the rules, I excelled at all my schoolwork but never boasted, I had vague interests but nothing intense, I was kind and friendly but I didn't push for friends, etc.

The perfect child. Perfectly average traits.

I read "The Divided Self" by R.D. Laing recently.

One of the things that gave me the greatest feelings of validation and relief from that book are the childhoods of the patients he talks about- before this, I've never seen such a clear example of my own childhood painted in a light that resonates with me.

None of the patients he provided had explicitly abusive childhoods, and none of them remembered their childhoods as particularly traumatic. Of course, most recalled their parents as some mixture of distant and unpredictable, and in some cases there was definitely emotional neglect and verbal abuse, but it was passing and not incredibly eventful. (I am not making light of anyone's experiences, I'm speaking only about the example patients' own accounts).

Many of the patients and the patients' families tell tales that mirror my own: "Julie was never a demanding baby. She was weaned without difficulty. Her mother had no bother with her from the day she took off nappies completely when she was fifteen months old. She was never 'a trouble'. She always did what she was told. These are the mother's basic generalizations in support of the view that Julie was always a 'good' child."

Most interestingly, the author hears these accounts both from the patients and the patients' family, and he sees them as negative. In contrast to literally everyone else I've opened up to, he says, "I have come to regard such an account of the earliest origins of behaviour as especially ominous, when the parents sense nothing amiss in it all, but on the contrary mention it with evident pride.”

The author goes on referring to the patient Julie, "This is the description of a child who has in some way never come alive: for a really alive baby is demanding, is a trouble, and by no means always does what she is told. [...] The crucial thing seems to me to be that [Julie's mother] evidently takes just those things which I take to be expressions of an inner deadness in the child as expressions of the utmost goodness, health, normality."

Complete and total compliance and obedience is NOT normal from a child (nor from anyone, I would argue but that's not the point). Children have to make mistakes and cause problems and stand up for themselves in order to learn how to live and be their own person! If a child doesn't do that and is only ever praised for their lack of autonomy, they're not going to grow into a secure personhood.

It is very important to me to hear this for the first time, especially from a credited psychologist. For years I've felt I was crazy for thinking that my childhood was so dreadfully abnormal and concerning whilst everyone assured me I was as healthy as could be (and side-eyed me as if I was exaggerating for attention).

I've always considered myself to be afflicted by "gifted kid burnout", which I am going to assume my small audience is familiar with, but the concept of "ontological insecurity" Laing discusses in this book fits even better, which I didn't think was possible.

It's rare that I feel someone completely understands even a small part of myself, so I am very glad I read this book and I would recommend it to anyone else interested.

To end this post, here's three additional quotes from the book, each referring to a different patients' childhood, yet all I can relate to:

“There was no open neglect or hostility in her family. She felt, however, that her parents were always too engrossed in each other for either of them ever to take notice of her. She grew up wanting to fill this hole in her life but never succeeded in becoming self-sufficient. [...] [H]er abiding memory of herself as a child that she did not really matter to her parents, that they neither loved nor hated, admired nor were ashamed of her very much.” pg54

“What she called 'unreliability' was a feeling of bafflement and bewilderment which she related to the fact that nothing she did had ever seemed to please her parents. If she did one thing and was told it was wrong, she would do another thing and would find that they still said that that was wrong. She was unable to discover, as she put it, 'what they wanted me to be'.” pg59

“His father's account of him was very meagre. He had always been perfectly normal, and he thought his present eccentricities were simply an adolescent phase. He had always been a very good child, who did everything he was told and never caused any trouble. His mother had been devoted to him.” pg70

i wanted to make a character sheet, for fun

lain (june 2023)

damn… I’m writing this story about my life and I feel like nobody gets it… like it’s very much about sex and religion and all this stuff and I feel like people just don’t like it but it’s like autofiction so it’s not going to be any different like most of it is based on my real life… like idk it’s autofiction so it’s mutable but people are like “I don’t like the character or how she acts” and I’m like well that’s me and that’s how I do act… it’s fine if you don’t like it… but idk how to write it any other way????? Like I want it to be real……….. even my best friend like knows it’s autofiction and doesn’t want to be mean or harsh but like doesn’t seem to get why the character is traumatized or struggling and I’m like fuck …….. I just want people to understand what’s wrong with me. Hell, I want to understand what’s wrong with me. Like what the fuck. I know it’s not an interesting and enjoyable story for people but it’s my fucking life…. Like my best friend literally said maybe it’s holding me back to be writing about myself but what the fuck else can I say?????? Idk

my ocd has absolutely gone off the deep end where now i am also obsessing about the ocd itself.. like if i am having rocd doubts, like do i really love my bf, am i too young for this, do i even want to be in a relationship? my ocd just snowballs wondering if these doubts are even ocd, or if they are real and i should listen to them. like maybe i really just don’t love him anymore and i’m just afraid to admit it to myself? i hate it i hate it so much i wish i could trust my own feelings .

my therapist tells me it doesn’t matter if the doubts are real, it doesn’t matter if i don’t actually love him. because i will never know the truth, i’ll never know for certain if we “should” be together. life just doesn’t have certain answers for these things and i need to accept that uncertainty. recovery is so painful