When you’re a child, you desire the acceptance and approval from your parents, because of the biological connection the pair hold. The needs and desires of my 6-year-old self is a frequent topic that mentioned by my psychologist. No one is perfect, and I believe parents know that, but still feel that their children are excellent, which doesn’t hold many repercussions. However, when a child knows through the verbal communication from a parent that they aren’t good enough, that child’s request to be approved isn’t met.
My needs as a child weren’t met by a parent, and it wasn’t until my discussions with my psychologist that I began to understand why that aspect of my life is still affecting me now. Even though the trauma I went through as a child, I still want that approval. Not as a 20-year-old I don’t, cause I don’t need that type of support from someone venomous, but the little 6-year-old inside of me that is yet to feel confident. I have no self-esteem, as I wasn’t reassured as a child buy that one significant individual in my life encouraging me.
That is where a large part of my anxiety strings from, and it is hard to write about it. I’m still coming around to terms with the whole idea that little me is still crying out for love and attention. However present-day me isn’t interested in that aspect anymore. I’m more concentrated on my well-being and mental health, then again the two concepts steam from the same issue.
This post is part of a series where I will be reflecting back to my younger self, and how my mental illness developed. Next week I will be speaking of how my younger childhood affects me and my relationship with men.