Confessions of a Recovering Perfectionist - Part 17

The initial development of my perfectionism resulted from some childhood experiences.  (See Of Wounds and Walls in Part 5.)  Let me share one particular incident I’ll call “Too Little.”  

As I remember it, I was four or five years old.  My dad was the scoutmaster for our troop and they were getting ready to go on an overnighter and a hike.  Dad was taking my two older brothers on the trip, even though they weren’t yet scout age.  As they were about to leave I begged to go with them, but I was “too little.”  As they drove the pickup away I chased after them shouting, “take me with you.”  After several blocks, they were out of sight.  I turned back and walked slowly home, where I sat on the porch steps and cried.  Initially I felt mostly sadness, but later my attitude became, “It’s not fair!”  

I had nearly forgotten this experience and didn’t really consider it to be a big issue.  After all, I was too little.  (Can you imagine hiking with a whole troop of about 25 scouts, plus three young boys?)  But recently I learned that this experience contributed to some childhood trauma.  And recalling it from an emotional (as opposed to an intellectual) space allowed me to step into that trauma and process it in productive and healing ways.  

I had other similar experiences as a child, none of them really large—I wasn’t beaten or abused, my parents didn’t divorce, they weren’t alcoholics or druggies, we didn’t move a lot, we weren’t living in poverty, I wasn’t told I was stupid or ugly.  (I did experience the death of a younger brother who was born premature and lived for just a few hours, and I was only two years old at the time so I don’t remember a lot. But I suspect that there may be some early issues around that.)  

Resolving the Trauma

In her article Resolving the Trauma You Didn’t Know You Had Lisa Firestone, Ph.D. refers to trauma with a “little t.”  The following is taken directly from her Psychology Today article (which I highly recommend):   

Most of us wouldn’t use the word trauma when telling our story. We may associate trauma with natural disaster, disease, war, loss or other extreme acts of violence. Unless we’ve suffered sexual or physical abuse, or even if we have, we may tell ourselves that there was no “trauma” in our early life. Yet, a trauma can be defined as any significant negative event or incident that shaped us. It can emerge from any impactful instance that made us feel bad, scared, hurt or ashamed. By this definition, we have all experienced some degree of trauma in the process of growing up. And how well we cope in our lives today depends, to a large extent, on how much we are willing to recognize and make sense of this trauma.

No matter how often we try to tell ourselves that the past is in the past or to write off the ways we were hurt as “no big deal,” our history continues to affect us in countless, unconscious ways. Research shows that when we fail to face and process the large and small traumas of our past, we can become stuck in our pain. We may struggle in our relationships and recreate our past in our present. In order to identify the events that hurt us, we must realize that trauma can exist in many forms. Psychologists often refer to traumatic interpersonal events that were not life-threatening but generated a significant emotional response as “little t” trauma. These can include instances of bullying, rejection, neglect, ridicule, verbal abuse, alarm, etc.

Our list of traumatic memories may or may not be long. We may struggle to even think of anything at first. It’s common to discount what happened to us as kids as not that important once we’re adults. Yet, what we have to remember is that it’s not about how we feel about the event now but how we felt as kids that affects us. Many things feel a lot bigger and scarier to a child who has little control or power over their circumstances.

When I recall the “Too Little” incident and other experiences, I can see how they impacted my self-worth.  I experienced some feelings of rejection, abandonment, and being unlovable.  These feelings resulted in a desire to be self-reliant, so I wouldn’t need to ask anyone else for anything, and risk being rejected.  

Children often bury negative memories that are painful to acknowledge.  I wasn’t abused or neglected by my family.  My dad did exactly what he should have done in this case.  But I still felt hurt.  

It’s Not Fair!

My mom has said that I grew up with an extreme sense of justice.  When I perceived that I wasn’t being treated fairly, I could rationalize pretty much any reaction—usually anger.  It has taken me many years to really recognize this tendency in myself.  I love what Elder Dale G. Renlund taught about fairness in this past General Conference:  

The concept—“the greater the distance between the giver and the receiver, the more the receiver develops a sense of entitlement”—also has profound spiritual applications. Our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, are the ultimate Givers. The more we distance ourselves from Them, the more entitled we feel. We begin to think that we deserve grace and are owed blessings. We are more prone to look around, identify inequities, and feel aggrieved—even offended—by the unfairness we perceive. While the unfairness can range from trivial to gut-wrenching, when we are distant from God, even small inequities loom large. We feel that God has an obligation to fix things—and fix them right now!

The sacrament truly helps us know our Savior. It also reminds us of His innocent suffering. If life were truly fair, you and I would never be resurrected; you and I would never be able to stand clean before God. In this respect, I am grateful that life is not fair.

At the same time, I can emphatically state that because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, ultimately, in the eternal scheme of things, there will be no unfairness. “All that is unfair about life can be made right.”

I know that Jesus is aware of me, that he understands my hurt and my anguish. He knows my griefs and my sorrows. He is come to heal the broken-hearted and those who experience trauma and injustice.


To be continued . . . with Part 18.