If I stop being constantly vigilant something will happen..

I examined this thought more in an attempt to be more specific about “something” ..

If I stop being constantly vigilant I will do something that is wrong and people will stop loving me.

I have thought more about the past and the abuse and some of the occasions on which it happened. Sometimes the line of questioning would be about various things, designed to make me admit that there was things in my life I wasn’t happy about. I think this was probably things like my dad being dead; not having a lot of friends and not feeling confident or comfortable in social situations, not knowing how to be a cool person who fit in..

But once I had admitted that my life wasn’t complete bliss with no problems ever, it became possible to ask me what was required to make me be happy. Would it make me happy if she was to leave? 

Of course I said no. And I meant that, at the time. But she didn’t believe me. How did I think it would make my mother feel if she left because I was not happy? Would my mother be happy with me to know that I had made her leave?

Later on, after I’d been dismissed to my bedroom to think about how awful I was, I would hear her leave the house. I think this happened a few times. Sometimes she just went to the shops and was back in half an hour. On a couple of occasions, she didn’t come back until quite late in the evening. Long after my mum had got home from work. After I’d gone to bed. Of course my mum would ask me where she was and all I could say was that I didn’t know. And wonder how long I could reasonably wait before I had to own up and admit that the reason she was gone was because she thought I didn’t want her there, but try to also convince my mum that I didn’t feel that way and hadn’t said that.. and hope that she would believe me but not really have any confidence in that hope because the fact that I was telling the truth hadn’t made a difference in being believed thus far.

I would hear her come back on these occasions that she stayed out really late, and inevitably my mum would ask where she had been because that’s a fairly normal question to ask, but she’d be aggressive and awful to my mum, asking why she wants to know, why would she care, etc. It was clear by the sound of her voice that she’d been drinking even more than she did usually at home. I was simultaneously relieved that she had come back and ashamed that she’d come back only to be horrid to my mother, knowing that it was my fault she’d gotten into this mood in the first place. 

So I learned from these experiences that I could never feel secure, never feel like my home or my family life was safe, because one day even if I swore blind that I didn’t want her to leave she might; and when your other parent discovered that it was your fault that their partner had left, they would finally see you for how you really are and realise that you aren’t worth loving.

And I’ve been trying so hard ever since then to be as vigilant as possible to make sure that no one in my life could ever have a reason to doubt that I want them and need them and value them and that I deserve them and their love and their presence. And at the same time been terrified that even if I make all that effort, it won’t matter because people can just not believe you and one day they might just not come home. 

I want to believe that people are in my life because they want to be but there’s always that doubt: they just haven’t realised yet that I’m not really who or what they think I am, I’m really some kind of sub-entity masquerading as a human being who has worth and value. And not only will they not love me when they realise that, but they will also be angry that I have accepted love and affection and time and everything else from them selfishly and deceptively, when I knew I didn’t deserve it.