When a parent won't admit they're wrong, finality is a constant threat.
I am going to work through something by writing about the insight it brought me; trying hard not to make this sound too journal-y for /r/CPTSDNextSteps.
I withstood some difficult news today from a medical caregiver for my spouse, who is denying a treatment we obviously need because of their own hesitation and severe emotional response (it's near the end of a long, difficult saga). They just can't handle the possibility that this last thing might not work.
They called me and explained a position that simply isn't rational. Going into detail would take paragraphs; suffice to say that they would not hear plain reason. They don't want it, because it's the emotions in the background they can't handle.
The result is that I've been dragged straight back to arguing with my mother. She is a never-wrong, always-good rationalizer and denier, and she will argue for hours to keep what in her mind is the high ground. I felt this trigger flare maximally while talking to this doctor. I kept my cool remarkably well throughout the conversation (10 years of recovery work will do that!!, but I've had a very tough time getting back to a level head afterwards, and an important piece fell into place that makes this difficulty make sense.
When your parent is a denial specialist, every conclusion is the final one, no matter how wrong or right. The moment the information aligns in a way that soothes them, they will declare victory and never waver. It's not just that they'll gaslight you or minimize you or what have you; it's that whatever idea they concoct is permanent.
I have always known that my mother is why I deliver news so carefully, and why I explain things in a very particular order that keeps the other person from getting the wrong idea and getting upset. I could've easily told you that I was just afraid she'd get mad at me. But the real fear I'm having today isn't about the doctor I talked to; it's a visceral, full-body fear that my wife will never get the care she needs, and that our family will be stuck like this. I'm not just afraid to "poke the bear". I'm afraid of a judge's decision to convict and sentence. It's one decision with unending negative consequences.
That "unending" element is especially telling because it's a sign of arrested development. It's all-or-nothing thinking, characteristic of many of my traumatized parts. That medical care I feel gated from, we're actually just shortly delayed in receiving; there will be ways around this. But to the child-parts of me still working through what it was like to live with my mother, it's a permanent state of being, an unending prison I will never escape, no matter how much I argue. That has thrown my nervous system into overdrive.
Further, if I can turn a little more compassion their way, I can see that what's happening here is that this doctor has reached the end of their strength. You can't argue someone into being stronger than they are. That's a hopeless endeavor, as it was when pleading with my mother to be rational all those years ago.
I was relieved to realize all of this. Like physically, at first, but after some time I'm also feeling intellectually relieved that I know this about myself, that these conversations will be easier in the future. Now I can distinguish a life sentence from a pause. So that's something.
Thanks for reading.