"Extreme Independence is a Trust Issue"

Several months ago, I signed up for a writing program. Why? I desired support with my writing. I desired to learn from someone. I desired to have a container where I could practice and grow in my writing without having to do it alone.

During our latest meeting, I shared with my writing coach, "I've felt stuck for the past few weeks. I come up with all kinds of excuses. And, most of them, they feel so real. It gets confusing. Everything feels heavy."

"Why didn't you reach out to me and let me know how you were feeling?"

"I don't know. I want to be the A+ student. The one who doesn't disappoint or make mistakes or become difficult or annoying, I guess."

"You've got it wrong. The A+ student asks for help."

"I'm not so good at that."

"It's part of the program. It's part of what you're paying for."

She was right. Here I am, PAYING for support, and STILL not feeling allowed to take it.

I felt sad, but also angry realizing this. I'm spending money I've earned. Why? What's the point? Time and time again I've had resources right in front of me and have quietly let them pass me by.

Everything. Everything. Feels like taking.

Even when I'm paying.

I dared to dip more deeply into my humanness with her:

"I'm not so good at receiving."

"The truth is, a lot of us aren't, especially women."

"I'm terrified of feeling like I owe anyone anything."

"It's a trauma response. Have you read the poem by Jamila White?"

She started to read it to me. And it resonated deeply. It's not just that I don't understand how to receive. It's not just that I don't have the courage to receive. It's not just that I don't want to owe anyone anything.

It's that I often don't trust people to show up.
I assume people will let me down.

Been there. Done that. Better to not even give anyone the chance.

It's helpful to understand this. So helpful. Because I want to trust. I want to get better at receiving. I want to allow other people to be a part of my life.

This poem was very powerful for me to read, and I wanted to share it with you too.

Here's to allowing support. We are worthy of it, and we can do it:

The inability to receive support from others is a trauma response.

Your “I don’t need anyone, I’ll just do it all myself” conditioning is a survival tactic. And you needed it to shield your heart from abuse, neglect, betrayal, and disappointment from those who could not or would not be there for you.

From the parent who was absent and abandoned you by choice or the parent who was never home from working three jobs to feed and house you.

From the lovers who offered sexual intimacy but never offered a safe haven that honored your heart.

From the friendships and family who ALWAYS took more than they ever gave.

From all the situations when someone told you “we’re in this together” or “I got you” then abandoned you, leaving you to pick up the pieces when shit got real, leaving you to handle your part and their part, too.

From all the lies and all the betrayals.

You learned along the way that you just couldn’t really trust people. Or that you could trust people, but only up to a certain point.

Extreme-independence IS. A. TRUST. ISSUE.

You learnt: if I don’t put myself in a situation where I rely on someone, I won’t have to be disappointed when they don’t show up for me, or when they drop the ball... because they will ALWAYS drop the ball EVENTUALLY right?

You may even have been intentionally taught this protection strategy by generations of hurt ancestors who came before you.

Extreme-independence is a preemptive strike against heartbreak.

So, you don’t trust anyone.

And you don’t trust yourself, either, to choose people.

To trust is to hope, to trust is to be vulnerable.

“Never again,” you vow.

But no matter how you dress it up and display it proudly to make it seem like this level of independence is what you always wanted to be, in truth it’s your wounded, scarred, broken heart behind a protective brick wall.

Impenetrable. Nothing gets in. No hurt gets in.

But no love gets in either.

Fortresses and armor are for those in battle, or who believe the battle is coming.

It’s a trauma response.

The good news is trauma that is acknowledged is trauma that can be healed.

You are worthy of having support.

You are worthy of having true partnership.

You are worthy of love.

You are worthy of having your heart held.

You are worthy to be adored.

You are worthy to be cherished.

You are worthy to have someone say, “You rest. I got this.” And actually deliver on that promise.

You are worthy to receive.

You are worthy to receive.

You are worthy.

You don’t have to earn it.

You don’t have to prove it.

You don’t have to bargain for it.

You don’t have to beg for it.

You are worthy.

Worthy.

Simply because you exist.

~ Jamila White