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When the Lessons We Learned Become the Work We Must Undo

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My brother and I had a much needed, heartfelt conversation last week. It is amazing how as we age, the caliber of our conversations changes. No longer are we simply relating based on favorite songs or movies or the latest celebrity gossip. We are now at that stage in life when we start to relate on existential matters. On matters of life and what our purpose is. The fears of leaving this earth before our purpose is both realized and brought into fruition. Whether we are authentically living the lives of our choosing or simply caving and giving in to societal pressures. We laughed at the so-called knowledge we thought we had at 21 and 25 years of age and how it differs drastically from what we know now. And of course, I shared with him the ugly truth that I had been emotionally wounded and emotionally immature and because of it, went on wounding others. Yes, my friends. Even after getting all of that schooling, graduating with a bachelor's degree in psychology, I was still very much emotionally immature. And it was ruining my life.


I grew up in a rural, Southern black Christian household. Much like many other rural, Southern black households in my area, there was a certain code of conduct that was not only expected but demanded. There were many parental power plays in the household that I grew up in. The households my cousins grew up in. The households my classmates grew up in. Questioning or even breathing a certain way, were most of the time, viewed as a sign of disrespect. And one thing you did not do is disrespect adults. Care to know the kinds of things that were viewed as disrespectful?



After All I Do for You

If you were asked to do something, the correct response was to drop everything you were doing and do what was asked of you right then and there. You had something else planned or going on? No, you better get up and do what I asked of you right now. You're tired, no kids don't get tired. Tired is getting up going to work to keep a roof over your head, lights on, food in your body, and clothes on your back. Nobody worries about how tired I am when I get up and go to work. Your room not cleaned? You forgot to put the dishes away or take the laundry out of the washing machine and load it into the dryer? Expect a major guilt trip coming your way. "After all I do for you," you can't even do something as simple and keep your room clean? "After all I do for you," I can't even get you to help me with cleaning and putting away the dishes you eat out of? "After all I do for you," you can't even take the clothes and towels that you wear and use out the washing machine? I do everything for you, and I can't even get a little bit of help. It is as if all the love, all the care, all the support provided are suddenly being used as ammunition. Between lovers this would be considered emotional blackmail. But when it is a parent to child situation, it is just a normal Sunday evening conversation.



Asking the Wrong Kind of Questions

It was okay to ask why the sky was blue. Why the sun disappeared at night and the moon during the day. Or why parents had to go to work. You know, basic questions. However, the moment you got curious about why the adults said or did certain things that had a direct impact on your personal autonomy as a little person, there was a problem. A big problem. "Because I said so," was the law as was the, "What I say goes, end of discussion." As I reflect back on it, messaging here is quite clear. Essentially, I was being told, "I'm the boss and I don't owe you an explanation." Curiosity dismissed. My need to understand, unheard. Even more, opportunity to foster healthy growth and development by modeling effective communication, gone.



Who Do You Think You're Talking To?

You had to be real careful what you said with your mouth or did with your body after the infamous, "Because I said so," otherwise you were back talking or sass mouthing. And baby, everything was considered talking back. Talking (this includes asking why again or trying to explain your position). Not talking (because oh, you not gone answer me?). Standing the wrong way (uncross those arms and don't shift to one hip). Your face not being arranged the right way (do not frown and definitely watch them eyes, because who you rolling your eyes at). Breathing the wrong way (because a sigh was definitely misconstrued as huffing at the adults). Another opportunity of modeling healthy negotiation and communication skills gone. It's amazing how we were told, "You have got to stand up for yourself." The "but just not with me" was the unspoken, silent reality.



Stop Crying or I'll Give You Something to Cry About

So, you just couldn't heed the warnings of the previous two paragraphs huh? "Well I guess I'm going to have to show you better than I can tell you." I grew up in a heavy, "Spare the rod, spoil the child community." The constant threat of, "I ain't (insert name of parent or guardian) and you ain't (insert name of "wayward" child) was a reminder that you step out of line, and you were going to get got. And once you had gotten got, you had better, "Stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about." Tis true. It is not just lore in Southern black households; there truly were parents out there inflicting physical pain on their children which invariably would lead that child to cry. And the parent, either annoyed or filled with guilt, would threaten the child with more physical pain if they did not shut up crying. This is both dismissive and threatening. There were two lessons learned here. The latter not intended. The first lesson was the intended one, treat me with respect by not questioning my authority verbally or nonverbally. The second lesson, the unintended one, hold back your tears and suppress your feelings because not doing so will only make life worse for you. No wonder my nervous system is such a wreck.


The Goal vs. Who I Actually Became

There is a part of me that understands fully what the adults in my life were trying to accomplish. They wanted to raise a young lady who respected adults which should later translate to respecting people in general. They wanted to raise a young lady who did her fair share at home which later would translate to doing her fair share in society. They wanted to raise a young lady who didn't run around showing her weakness by crying because something didn't go her way. The goal was an upstanding, emotionally mature and kind person.


The result was an inner emotional train wreck. There were plenty of times in life I did not like what the adults were doing or saying. Like a good little girl, I said nothing. My silence and lack of acting out was mistaken for respect. The truth is, I was terrified of being displeasing to the adults in my life. I learned early that being displeasing to adults resulted in being verbally berated or physically punished. But this silence didn't just translate to adults. I also did not stand up to peers. I had no clue how to. Hard to know how to navigate standing up for yourself when the very first place you are bullied into silence is in your own home. Of course, I understand that this is not everyone's experience. I know of friends and relatives with similar existences to mine who had no problem going to the school yard and "standing up for themselves." I use the term "standing up for themselves" very loosely here. Because truly, they went out into the world and bullied. I guess you could say they were very good students of the life lessons they were learning at home huh? But there is a duality here. I never bullied other younger kids, but I did "Because I'm the oldest that's why," my younger brother. I guess in that way I was unfortunately a good student too.


Over time as I shifted into adulthood, my modus operandi interacting with others morphed and changed especially when it came to intimate relationships. I was either stonewalling and not expressing my feelings, literally going into shutdown mode. Or I was having impulsive, emotional outbursts. No man could connect with me in a meaningful way because I honestly did not have the tools it takes to negotiate having a relationship. All I had was emotional blackmail (After All I Do for You) and insecurities and a wounded inner child that would refuse to be silenced. Oh, she was definitely asking questions and expressing her displeasure through her non-verbals. And you had better believe that none of it was done in a respectful manner, she had no clue what that even looked like. And the sad part in all of this, my inner child mistook this for standing up for herself. She truly believed this behavior showed people not to mess with/play with her. As I had mentioned at the outset, it would be many years past my studies in psychology (the study of human behavior) before I would come stand before the woman in the mirror and realize that her shit stank too. It would literally take a blow-up argument with my brother in which we did not speak to each other for months before I would realize I had some work to do. I was unhealthy, unhealed, and poisonous to myself and my relationships.



In reflecting on the journey of self-discovery sparked by that profound conversation with my brother, a stark reality emerges. The well-intentioned yet often damaging practices of my upbringing in a rural, Southern Black Christian household, characterized by unquestioned authority, emotional guilt-tripping, and the suppression of authentic expression, inadvertently cultivated a fertile ground for emotional immaturity. The very environment meant to instill respect and responsibility ultimately fostered a fear of displeasing authority and a crippling inability to navigate interpersonal relationships with healthy communication and emotional honesty. It took the distance of adulthood and the painful catalyst of a fractured sibling bond to finally illuminate the chasm between the desired outcome – an upstanding, emotionally mature individual – and the reality of the wounded and reactive person I had become. Thankfully, the realization that emotional maturity is not a fixed trait but a cultivable skill offers a beacon of hope. The path to healing and healthier connections is now a journey I am committed to undertaking, brick by painful brick. Next article, I'll go over some steps I undertook to increase my emotional maturity. In the meantime, please remember that wherever you are on this wellness journey, do not worry about getting it perfect; just get it going. Until next time. Happy reading!



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“Freedom is what you do with what’s been done to you.” ~Jean-Paul Sartre

 

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