Every entrepreneur, on some level, fears that they might pour their heart and soul into their work, and it might not pay off. This fear can be helpful if we are over-reaching. It can remind us to create attainable goals and be careful not to hurt ourselves or someone else in our quest for success. But I’m not talking about that fear. Instead, I’m talking about the under-the-surface fear that twists and sabotages possibilities and opportunities.
My fear voice whispered in my ear, “what might happen if they find out you aren’t sure, you are afraid to commit, you make mistakes, you change your mind, that you feel trapped by your history.” But, of course, the most pervasive fear is that I won’t amount to anything, that I won’t be successful.
It’s a typical Sunday night, and I’m preparing for the week ahead. I begin to write out my to-do list and I’m overwhelmed with sadness.
Daniela F. Sieff says that “entering a trauma-world does not happen as a result of a conscious decision; it is what human brains and bodies have evolved to do in the face of overwhelming pain or fear.” She says that a trauma-world is hidden in the biological systems (muscles, hormones, nervous system, and brain structure), which underlie our feelings and ways of perceiving and engaging with the world.
I couldn’t locate when or where this “helpless to help” feeling started precisely, but it was in my early years. Money was tight, we lived in relative poverty, and only once for a brief time in Mississippi, my mom took an outside job. She was a baker at a restaurant and made pies. My dad tried to provide, but he was involved in an early multi-level marketing thing that did not work out. Eventually, we moved back to his hometown in Montana, and life began to even out.
I remember how much I wanted to contribute. Even as a child, I wanted to help others, especially my mom. I knew how to make her laugh and that made me feel valuable.
My mother today barely resembles the woman I knew as a child. Growing up, she was my world. She did so many things for me, surprising me with the exact right gift. Once our life stabilized and my dad was running the family business in Montana, money was no longer a problem. We took vacations every summer, traveling to various cities. One year we went to New Orleans and stayed in a beautiful historic hotel with a rooftop pool. I was in heaven! We went on tours of the area, ate great food, and did a lot of shopping. On one of these shopping days, I found a puppet that I loved and wanted, but my parents said no.
I didn’t know that my mom snuck back into the store while my dad took me to get some ice cream, and she bought that puppet and saved it to give to me on my birthday. She did that a lot. She also surprised me with a new bedroom set, including a beautiful french provincial canopy bed. I came home to find the room transformed. So I have these great memories of my mom, and so for most of my adult life, I’ve been trying to get in touch with why we became disconnected.
Things got weird with her when I was a teenager; my friends were her friends. She would wear my clothes, and when I left for college, she had another child. I guess our disconnected relationship isn’t a mystery when I spell it out. Our relationship never matured into a reciprocal relationship. I needed support in growing up, but it wasn’t there.
I wanted my mom to be proud of me and didn’t understand why she wasn’t. She disapproved of everything I did and didn’t want to hear about my work or successes. She didn’t understand how vital autonomy was for me, how important it is for maturity.
In an interview with Daniela F. Sieff, Ph.D., and Jungian analyst Marion Woodman, I understood what was driving this “always out-of-reach” feeling. Marion Woodman describes the pain of rejection from the one we love the most, our Mother, as devastating. As trauma. The hurt becomes internalized into the belief that something is fundamentally wrong with us. “So we take up the habit of repeatedly leaving ourselves behind, especially when we most need support in going forward.”
The truth was that when I left for college, I was inadequate, I did not have the help I needed, and that became internalized into shame. I should be more. I should be better. I’m not enough. There was a double bind where the expectation was to “not need” my parents’ help and then criticism when I tried to take care of myself and failed.
“There’s something wrong with me” is a belief influencing how we see ourselves and our capacities. Something as small as writing a to-do list can trigger trauma. If we don’t imagine, if we don’t publish, if we don’t tell our story we might not draw criticism. We can avoid retraumatizing ourselves by not risking anything. But at a cost.
I’m sitting here at the table writing this essay, and I remember that little girl sitting in the shadows at school. She is watching the others play, and she doesn’t know that there will be people in her life that will come alongside her one day to help. All she knows is that she is alone and invisible to the people around her.
There’s a saying that time heals all wounds, but that isn’t exactly true. We need new experiences constructed over time, experiences that hold the healing potential. I came across this resource, a podcast from Jungian Life that can offer more insight on the Negative Mother Complex.
For me, the Mother Wound is a teacher of the heart asking me to brave the wilderness and to write even when I’m unsure of the reception. To keep working even when I’m unsure of success and relieve my mother of the impossible burden I put on her.
“And never forget, no matter how overwhelming life’s challenges and problems seem to be, that one person can make a difference in the world. In fact, it is always because of one person that all the changes that matter in the world come about. So be that one person. ” Buckminster Fuller
