It’s All My Fault (and other things I tell myself)

It’s been a pretty upsetting few days as I’ve approached and reached the 12 month anniversary of my separation. As usually happens when I’m stressed, I’ve had a soundtrack of statements swirling about in my head that have made me feel worse:

You should have tried harder to make it work.

You should have left earlier instead of exposing the kids to so many years of emotional dysfunction and abuse.

You should have realised it was emotional abuse and left. You’re so pathetic.

You’ve failed your children by not caring for them properly. You didn’t leave and remove them from the situation, and you didn’t give them the attention they needed to compensate for all the things they were missing. You’re a terrible mother.

You’re over-reacting and hysterical. It wasn’t that bad. You’re being self-indulgent. No-one has a perfect marriage. You should have been happy with what you had.

You’re so selfish. You’re a terrible mother, daughter, sister and friend. All you care about is how you’re feeling when you should be prioritising other people instead.

Of course, I’m aware that some of these statements are contradictory and part of my brain doesn’t really believe any of them (although part of it believes them all). This isn’t as illogical as it sounds, because ultimately the exact wording of the statements doesn’t really matter. It’s all about the underlying message, which can be summarised into one sentence: You’re a failure, it’s all your fault, and you’re not good enough.

I feel like I failed at my marriage (if I could make it ‘work’ for 22 years, surely I should be able to make it work forever). I’ve failed to support my children as I should have (by staying in a terrible marriage, by being so caught up in trying to survive each day that I didn’t give them the attention they deserved, by making the decisions that have led to the past 12 months of horrible, confronting conversations with their father for them because he can’t get to me). I’ve failed to be a Good Christian Wife (which I feel bad about even though I can see how damaging trying to achieve that distorted ideal is) and I’ve failed to be a confident independent woman. I failed by creating the image of a functional, happy family so that others didn’t realise that I needed help and now don’t realise that my ex isn’t the victim he portrays himself as being.

Every time something is said to the kids by their father, his family, my family or ‘friends’ that upsets them, I feel like it’s my fault. I should have protected them better and created a safer place for them. I should have known this is how things would pan out when I left their father and either stayed, or prepared them better for the fallout. My decisions have created the emotionally fraught landscape they have had to navigate over the past 12 months. It’s my fault that I’m not qualified enough to get a well paying job to give us all financial security and independence from my ex.

The ‘you’re not good enough’ soundtrack is the worst. That’s the one where I run through all the things I’m not – not strong enough, not smart enough, not brave enough, not coping well enough, not organised enough, not available for the kids enough, not supporting them enough. I’m not a good enough mother, friend or partner (in my new relationship). I’m not good enough at prioritising the practicalities of our everyday life, so the house is messy, the clothes aren’t ironed, and dinner is a bit of a potluck affair that could be a home cooked meal, but could also be takeaway pizza. Or toasted sandwiches.

Of course this is balanced out by a list of all the things I am: selfish, needy, flawed, broken, damaged, stupid, naive, disorganised, unqualified. The list goes on.

I’ve always thought I had a reasonably solid understanding of my strengths and weaknesses, but in these moments (and there have been so many of them in the past 12 months), it’s like I’m viewing everything through a filter that assumes that I’m to blame for everything – every unhappiness, every disappointment, every misunderstanding. After so many years married to someone who never apologised or accepted responsibility and always assumed that I was somehow to blame if things didn’t work out, that viewpoint now seems to be my default setting. It’s like it doesn’t matter that I’ve left him, because I’m now wired to be emotionally abusive to myself.

I’m not posting this to invite a raft of positive affirmations. This isn’t a cry for help or attention. It’s an acknowledgement that stepping away from my marriage was just the first step in a very, very long process of reclaiming myself. Some days it’s easy to see the wonderful things that are happening in my life, and other days I’m just too emotionally exhausted to find the energy to silence the ‘you’re a failure/it’s your fault/you’re not good enough’ soundtrack.

I know I am loved. I know I am valued. But tonight I am sad, and that’s okay. Tomorrow is a new day.