Autonomy - Who Am I?

For most of my life, I felt consumed by the need to meet others' expectations and needs, particularly hers. I worked hard to become the person she envisioned or, worse, the one she insisted I be. Thankfully, my faith in God kept me grounded, even as I struggled to understand myself. While I was often complimented for my gentle and peacemaking nature, I eventually realized my yearning for harmony stemmed from a deep aversion to chaos, a lesson ingrained in me from a young age, reflecting the way God wired my heart toward empathy. 

In my childhood, I found it easier to relate to adults than to connect with my peers. Although my maturity was often touted as a badge of honor, it revealed more about my trauma. Initially, I attributed this to being an only child, but later recognized it stemmed from growing up under unrealistic expectations. This lack of autonomy, combined with an intense desire to please, caused me to be vulnerable to manipulation, criticism, and gaslighting. Throughout my life, controlling personalities gravitated toward me, sensing my need for approval. My empathy often led to exploitation. A traumatic experience in my youth shattered my confidence when I was groomed and abused. In college, I sabotaged a genuine relationship due to my fear of being truly known and rejected. Leaving me feeling unworthy. 

This mindset prevented me from pursuing a path that truly resonated with me. My choice of major in college was dictated by her, and since it wasn't a good fit for me, it resulted in her deep disappointment. Eventually, I excelled in a different field but it wasn't the one she desired for me. However, when I began dating Ray, she adamantly insisted he wasn't the right choice for me, viewing our relationship as a reflection of her failures and a betrayal. The day we got engaged was a chaotic disaster. 

I aligned with her over my dad, unaware of the pain it caused him. When he approached me at work, shortly after I got married, to share the facts, I turned him away, guided by the seeds of distrust she planted starting my last couple years of high school and a lack of desire to get in the middle. The emotional distance grew, lessoning the once-strong bond we shared. Now, I understand that triangulation was at play long before I recognized its impact, and I long to apologize and reconnect with the man I once considered my hero.

In the final months, she orchestrated a campaign against me, turning family members against me with her distortions and lies. They accepted her narrative without question, leaving me bewildered—had I not witnessed the truth, I might have doubted it myself. After all, who could have believed she wasn’t telling the truth? She lived with us for seven years, relying on our support -which was our honor - while manipulating perceptions around her. Now, those who filled the void she needed to replace my supply/support have not been willing to reveal the false accusations against me and will most likely struggle to reconcile the benefits they gained from believing her narrative. 

I am sharing these things in the hope that someone might recognize the signs of abuse early and give a voice to the victims of narcissism who often feel voiceless. Narcissists depend on our silence. I choose to be a generational curse breaker.