I Don't Deserve to Be His Mom
On childhood trauma and impostor syndrome
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“2023 is not my year.”
I’ve been casually saying that here and there—to my husband, to my therapist, to my closest friends—for the past couple of months. And every time I say that, it comes with the caveat, “but things are getting better!”
But are they really?
Why 2023 Has Sucked For Me
Earlier this year, I was laid off from a job that I truly thought would “get my career back on track” as a journalist working for a major publication. It’s what I have always dreamed of but thought I could no longer have after I left New York City in 2016 because I couldn’t both live in the city that forever has my heart and stay sober after entering recovery from alcohol use disorder in 2015.
That was a huge blow to my ego, to say the least.
Later on, I didn’t get another job that I was extremely qualified for and worked my ass off to get. And that’s just scratching the surface of what’s gone wrong for me in 2023.
In May, I launched this publication—Raising Gen Alpha—with so much excitement in my body that I thought I’d explode. It was SO COOL to finally be doing something like this, writing for myself instead of for everyone else, and hopefully making money doing so. I’ve been a journalist for 18 years, after all, so I thought all of this would come naturally.
And then it didn’t.
Why? Well, I think a lot of it had to do with some medication switches that led me into a depressive episode that I keep saying I am crawling out from, but I’ve been saying that since early August and it doesn’t really feel like anything is that different.
There’s also burnout from all the things and career/financial stress and probably a couple dozen other things that are heavily weighing on my mind this year, and have rendered me a pretty useless blob of flesh—aka I’m not working much so my family is under financial strain that’s getting worse and my mental health is so fucked and up/down constantly that I’m not showing up for my family the way I want to be.
Which leads me to today’s topic: I don’t deserve to be my son’s mom.
I don’t mean that I am going to abandon him or that I plan to unalive myself (far from it!) but what I mean is that lately I’m feeling as if the more layers of my psyche that I pull apart, the more fucked up I truly am.
You see, I found a new therapist at the start of March and it has truly been the most wonderful experience of my life.
Finally, a Therapist Just For Me
I first started seeing a therapist when I entered rehab for alcohol abuse in July 2015, and have continued to see someone since. To be honest, I’ve gone through eight therapists in the past eight years—and this is the first time that I feel like I am actually getting therapy.
I’ve realized recently that, in the past, the therapists I had were content to just talk to me about the daily, surface-level shit and rarely dig into the nitty gritty of what’s really going on or why the surface-level shit is impacting me so much. With my current therapist, I walk away from every single therapy session (roughly 35 weekly sessions so far!) feeling like I’ve just unearthed something deep within me that has helped me in some way or opened my eyes to something. It’s been very healing, but I have a long ways to go.
In a weird way, I am excited for the journey ahead.
For my continued healing, for a deeper understanding of myself, for actually feeling good about myself without always faking it. That sounds pretty great, doesn’t it?
Well, on this journey, we have been exploring shadow work lately and did a visualization exercise that got down to my deepest core belief about myself: That I am not worthy (of success). Because I don’t deserve a happy life.
Not to get too deep into it (for now) but it stems from childhood trauma.
I know, I know. I hate to be that girl, blaming all of my ills on my parents, but… Well, maybe it’s kinda true in this case.
Growing Up with Narcissistic Abuse
I want to start this by saying: I am not a mental health professional. I cannot conduct a diagnosis on anyone, nor should I. But it is my sincere belief that I grew up in a household with a narcissistic parent and a co-narcissist parent. I’ve talked about this on my Instagram in the past, but it’s really hitting me hard now that I’m doing deep work on healing the inner me.
Yesterday, my therapist told me that I for sure have childhood trauma.
I kind of chuckled, both because I was a tiny bit surprised that they said this but mostly because it’s like, oh duh, of course I do, how did I never actually put those words together for myself?!
We talked a bit about what this means (hello, C-PTSD!) and how we’ll be addressing more of this in the future, but today I’m circling back on this idea because I decided to journal and accidentally-maybe-on-purpose got down to something even deeper:
I have (severe) impostor syndrome due to childhood trauma.
Through journaling and some research, I realized that the impostor syndrome that has kept me from doing more writing here and elsewhere all year is not just based on bad feelings about myself. It’s based on deeply ingrained beliefs that were ingrained in me by my narcissist parents; the belief that I am never going to be good enough.
I think (and I’ll hopefully find out for sure through continued therapy and exploration of my shadow self) that the belief that I am never going to be good enough—aka my childhood trauma-based impostor syndrome—came from never being praised as a child, and in fact told that I could never be as good as my dad or my brother, and having the family label of “black sheep.” Fun, huh?
My Impostor Syndrome & My Child
I know that feeling like an impostor in an area of life is not unusual for most adult humans. I’m not unique in this way by any means, but I find it fascinating that even though we’re more open to talking about this difficult feeling, there’s just not much information about the deeper link between impostor syndrome and past trauma.
And how that all might impact your life today. Or at least, my life today as a human and as a parent to a little human.
There are many things that make me proud to be the mom of a rambunctious 3.5-year-old. Not the least of which is that I am raising my child to be aware of and understanding of his feelings with the goal of him having decent mental health growing up. Or at least knowing when his mental health isn’t great so that he doesn’t almost drink himself to death the way I did.
But that’s also why, right now, I am feeling like I don’t deserve to be his mom.
I’ve been doing a lot of work on myself ever since that first day in rehab. Not only do I no longer drink alcohol (and haven’t for over eight years!) but I am constantly trying to better my mental health so that I can be a kinder human to others. And to myself.
After all, my first therapist left me with these parting words: Be kind to yourself.
Um, yes, right… I am! I swear I totally am! Except when I’m not. Which is a great chunk of the time, especially when I am all in my head about my career, my work, my value as a human (which is tied to my career, thanks dad!), and then it spirals into my value as a human when it comes to being a mother and wife.
Right now, I am very much feeling like… How can I possibly raise a child to be mentally healthy when I am even more fucked up than I ever knew?
It’s honestly really freaking difficult to be someone who is working on themselves so that they can be better present with their loved ones while also still having to be present with their loved ones every day, no matter what. It’s exhausting.
Sometimes, I feel like I just need a month or a year to crawl into a cave and just work on myself so that I can emerge A SUPER HEALTHY HUMAN and be THE BEST MOM EVER. But that’s not how reality works.
Instead, I find myself sobbing onto my journal pages as I write down something I read about the childhood trauma-based impostor syndrome I’m only now realizing I have:
“The thoughts shift and I can shift with them; they’re only thoughts, and I don’t have to act on them or even believe them.”
I guess now I have to really work on being compassionate with myself, huh?
If you’ve ever felt like an impostor when it comes to your own parenting, what words of wisdom would you share with someone going through it right now?
Talk soon,
Irina (she/her) - raising a March 2020 Gen Alpha kid
As always, I adore you.