I absolutely agree. As a child, I had extremely low self esteem and was extremely shy. I always felt that my father hated me, I was always being criticized. I remember going to the pediatrician and him putting me on some type of medication that tasted like mint. I clearly remember him saying this should help you with your problem child. My mother tells me I’m crazy, it never happened. I later learned that I had ADHD. Probably why I was the one always getting in trouble! As a teen, I became a big drinker. I’m 50 years old now and it still bothers me, I regret so many things in my past…never standing up for myself…not trying in school…feeling I was too dumb for college…I promised myself I would never treat my children the way I was treated and as a result, I think I let them get away with more than I should have, however, they always knew they were loved and they are doing well today. I’m still hard on myself, I struggle with depression, anxiety, chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia and still have a hard time standing up for myself. My mother will post things on FB, meant for me to see I’m sure…Everything you do is your choice…dont blame the weather…don’t blame your parents its not your parents fault, etc…any type of quote along those lines. I’ve mentioned to my sister that growing up in that house has effected me a lot, I have a strange feeling she told my mother because that’s when the quotes began, lol. My parents have mellowed and my father is much kinder to me now, however, if I hear him raise his voice or look at me with that look, I immediately turn back into that little girl again.

As a 29 year old man you think it is possible to have any measure of self-esteem after that brutal measure of psychological invalidation, parental invalidation and peer humiliation? Absolutely not.

Invalidation is a huge problem. If they have just accepted my true and correct answer and my not being depressed then I wouldn’t have had to undergo 6 years of psychological humiliation. Instead my humanity, dignity and individuality was invalidated and tossed aside as having no greater worth than trash

I was never hugged, never told I was loved, never comforted when I was sad. It was all very traumatic. I felt invisible and alone and that I didn’t matter. People who have been through this tend to downplay the experience and have no idea this affects the rest of one’s life.

I am 43 now and still working things. I have come to the realization that I need to forgive, and take a Buddhists’ look at things.

For one, my parent’s weren’t in perfect families either. They went through different forms abuse. How are they supposed to know how to raise child to feel loved, heard and respected? Like all of, they raised us the best they knew how. Even though it was never spoken to me, they did love me, they never laid hand on me. I was always fed, clothed and had a roof over my head. To this day, I respect my dad for all the hard work he did.

The most important thing I learned though, is that validation comes from within, if we are waiting others validate us, we will never be
validated.

I still have bad days, the memories sometimes get to me and that’s what led me to site. But I think worked through it for now. Thank you for writing this,I know you are helping people.

Growing up, my dad was what I’ve found out to be a narcissist and my Mom just, really, did her best. I am the 2nd of 4 kids. My mom protected my older brother who my dad picked on….my younger brother was a cute clown and my sister was the baby. I just kind of grew up, I wasn’t a bad kid, got good grades. I really felt like I didn’t fit in anywhere but I wasn’t an outcast either, just another kid in school. My Mom was busy dealing with the other three and I just figured that if I didn’t cause any problems that was a good thing. I kind of wished that my parents would come to my ballgames or things I was involved in but I understood that they were busy, I didn’t take it personally.

As an adult, I’ve been pretty successful at work, have a wife I adore, great friends….anything a person could hope fore. However, I’ve always felt a a little dubious as to why these things worked out for me. Deep down, I know I don’t deserve them and have always felt that it could all disappear. I don’t fight with my wife because I’m afraid she’ll be mad at me. I take responsibility for everything that happens which kind of makes me dubious about the whole victim thing…but a few minor thins aside, I have a great life.

My relationship with my family is…well, I’m the “successful” child in that I’m solvent financially and happily married…so my mom’s attention is more about helping my brothers and sisters with whatever they have going on and keeping my dad happy. I’m also 1000 miles away. I’ve always rationalized it as that I don’t need their attention/help/concern so that’s good, right? Plus, I don’t live close. However, as I get older, I’ve gotten more resentful of my family without knowing why. I’ve often thought that, gee, what about me? I’ve manifested a few behaviors in my personal life, things that are probably not that bad but feel a compulsion to hide from everyone (I’m not a serial killer or anything.

Anyway, I’m not sure what that all means….but, it sure seems to be something I identify with.

I was adopted at the age of 3 with my older sister who was 6. Something I have heard all my life from both my parents was a conversation they had when they adopted us. My mother asked my father, “Are you going to favor M (me) because she’s so “pretty”?” he responds with “No, I will favor C (my sister) because she needs us more”.

My relationship with my family was a distant one from the start. I relied on my sister who I considered to be my mother as she was the only person I had in the orphanage and did everything a mother should do. When we were adopted I was now provided with material possessions. I had a bed to sleep in, clothes, food and I was provided with an education. But my parents never thought about my emotional well being. I didn’t remember being in an orphanage. I didn’t have the same trauma and emotional needs that my sister did. So they showered my sister with love, they spoke to her all the time and tried to make her see how wonderful life was. In turn my sister continued being my mother. She hugged me when I cried and asked me what was wrong. When I fell it would be her who would pick me up while my parents shook there heads (I was a clumsy child). But she also continuously reminded me that they were not our parents. My relationship with my sister was unhealthy, at least in the eyes of our parents. We were too close. And I was to dependent on her. But who was I going to depend on when they never truly took the time to get to know me. They never asked me how I was feeling or what I needed. What hurt and what made me smile. I watched as my sister grew closer to them. Forming relationships with them but then turning around and reminding me that they weren’t my parents. And they didn’t feel like my parents. Besides providing for the materialistic things in life they didn’t provide me with much else.

But I was okay with it. I had my sister. Until I didn’t. At 12 they sent my sister to France for the summer. It was the first time in our lives that we had ever been separated. And that entire summer I felt incredibly alone. My father took my also adopted brother (not my biological brother like my sister) to Chicago to get test done because at the age of 9 he still couldn’t read (he was a crack baby). And I was left to my own devices. I was sent to camp and everyday I’d come back and no one asked how camp was. What I did. Did I have fun. Because you see, I didn’t need my parents. I was the “normal” child, therefore I didn’t need their constant attention like my sister did and my brother did. At least thats what they told themselves and me. All summer I waited for my sister to come back. But when she did she came back a different person. We’ve never truly spoken about it, mainly because she always brushes me aside but after she came back she stopped talking to me. Cold turkey. It was like I ceased to exist. I spent the next 4 years thinking of ways to end my life. And making many attempts as well. Downing bottle after bottle of pills. Whatever was in the house which was never much, either tylenol or advil. But I didn’t know better. It was before we had internet in our home. I just knew if I took enough I wouldn’t wake up. It was never enough. And only 2 times did it make me so sick that they had to take me to the hospital. My parents chalking it up to a stomach flu each time. They actually never realized it and at the time I was glad. It meant I could try again.

Honestly, whenever I hit a mile marker in my life it always surprised me. I never believed that my life was worth much. My adopted parents from the beginning believed that I didn’t need them and showered my “troubled” sister and my “learning disability” brother with love and attention. When I would point it out they would say, C is dealing with emotional baggage from living in an orphanage and being abandoned. And when I would point out that I lived in the same orphanage and I was abandoned by the same mother they would always say “Yes but you’re to young to remember”. And when they would let my brother do things that I would get severely punished for and I would try to point it out again they would say “Well you can read and entertain yourself, he can’t”. Or they would just say I was being the classic middle child.

I now don’t really have much of a relationship with my entire family. But I never really did. And now that I am thirty I am trying hard to work through these issues. Of feeling that my existence is a waste. That my feelings are unimportant. And now I am angry. Years and years of bottled up emotions and the first that I truly truly feel is angel and rage.

And the hardest part is knowing that I should feel grateful to my parents for adopting me and giving me a “future” but at the same time not feeling like a should feel grateful. The one thing all adopted children want is to be loved. Being taken care of is just fine but being loved well that saves lives. And its hard to come to terms with feeling grateful but not all at the same time.

Dearest Dr. Webb & Ms. Burnham: What a Phenomenal article & a superb comment (I’m 41 & I get it all now!). Thanks, both xo

I happen to think you are a strong and very capable person to have raised children well but you need to understand that the hurt you bear from childhood should be addressed by an equally capable psychologist. Getting the right help should be your ‘absolute’ priority. This isn’t easy and I don’t know how much you have tried already, but use the same strength and the same allotment of resources that you used in raising your children to find the help you deserve. You are young and can right this! The strength coming from you simply flies off the pages.

Your comment regarding you and your husband- We were just living in a house with people- really hit home for me. I am now 51 and trying to come to terms with all that has happened to me. Reading more, it’s no wonder I feel so alone. Wishing us all the best. Thank you for your comment.