Approximate reading time: 8min

(This post is two weeks in the making….it started out with having nothing to say and then morphed into the opposite;-)

I am in a pretty good mood and very eager to write something…. however, I don’t really have much news to report. So, I am going to sit down and type, hopeful that something will arrive via ‘magical osmosis‘.

Mmmmmm…….

Well, let’s start with my dissertation.

No, it’s still not finished, and no, I still haven’t received my transcript back from the ‘volunteer’ coder.

That means they have had it now for a total of 3 months and 9 days.

(Yes, I am counting)

Their 3rd ‘hopeful completion date’ passed over a month ago.

I emailed them 3 weeks ago, requesting an update as to when I could expect it back, and my email has gone unanswered.

(Clearly, this person is VERY busy)

I write this not because I want to moan.

(Ok, fuck it…who am I trying to kid…….)

I write this not SOLELY because I want to moan.

But to hopefully carve out a valuable life lesson that I clearly still need to learn.

To say I have been consumed by anger would be a minor understatement. You know, how you always hear people complain about delays when trying to complete their dissertations, and you kinda think to yourself:

“Oh, good Grief!

Just get over it! “

Well, it’s bloody hard, people!!!

Because, frankly, I hate being ignored – on a primal level.

(I have written about this before!!)

Being ignored doesn’t feel like a small slight

– It feels personal.

It feels like the other person doesn’t care.

It feels like my feelings don’t matter.

In my organised, good girl world, where I like to be in control and always complete things ON TIME,

it makes me feel completely and utterly powerless.

The obsessive swinging between

anger and hurt

is exhausting….

even though my rational, calm, level-headed self knows absolutely NONE of the above is true.

I hit a breaking point last week after I penned a rather frustrated email to my dissertation supervisor and her ‘Switzerland’ response back, while kind and understanding, simply suggested that perhaps I should apply for a second referral. She also pointed out that this particular coder was usually very reliable, and she was sure there was a good reason for all the delays.

I will admit that after receiving her response back, I cried.

I raged.

“I DON’T WANT ANOTHER REFERRAL!

I DON’T WANT TO HEAR HOW WONDERFUL OTHER PEOPLE’S EXPERIENCES WITH THIS PERSON HAVE BEEN….”

After the meltdown was over…and I re-assembled the CALM,

I found myself asking

“So what do you want then?”

“I want to feel seen.

I want to feel like my feelings matter.

I want to feel validated, like I have the right to be upset.”

“And you need other people to do ALL this for you? “

“YES!!!!!!”

Randomly connected story:

So, I saw my old flatmate Richard last week, which is always lovely. He has become one of my biggest blog supporters. Before he even moved into our flat, 2 plus years ago, he found my blog and commented on how much he enjoyed my writing. I knew then that he was a keeper;-)

(Us writers are such a shallow bunch.)

So, anyway, he jokingly remarked that one day he might actually post a comment on my blog – to which I had to inform him, sadly, that would be impossible because I removed my comment section… about a year ago.

Now, why on earth would I do that? – you might ask….

Well, it was two-fold, really.

For starters, no one ever commented.

(It was tragic, I tell you!)

When I started my blog in 2010, I had a whole host of supporters who used to comment quite regularly. I felt like I was starting to develop a little online community, which was great.

I felt validated.

I felt seen.

(Granted, my biggest fans were my parents….but nevertheless)

Fast forward to 2022 when I started up again and ….

NADA –

Not one comment.

Ok, that’s not completely true….I had ONE comment on the 24^th July 2022!!

Please click

here

for proof!!

(I cherish her comment to this day:-)

I am not going to lie…for about a year and a half, as I poured my heart and soul into my blog, resurrecting it from its grave, the radio silence was almost unbearable. That child part of me that is so desperate to be seen and acknowledged was constantly activated. Especially when you go onto social media, and someone who posts a YouTube video called “2 hours of doing nothing” has 73 comments and 44K views!!!

I mean, for Fucks sake!

What’s a girl to do?

(You mean I could have just sat and done NOTHING?)

Trust me, many a therapy conversation was hijacked by my needy little child part, who was so desperate to be seen and validated.

(It was TRULY tragic indeed, I tell you)

Couple that with the fact that I was constantly having to delete spam messages from random bots, and I think I just reached the breaking point. The last comment I received was a disgusting, two-page-long sexual monologue that covered the entire spectrum of depravity. For the briefest of seconds I did think

“OMG, I have my very own

But no, I very soon realised that it wasn’t even directed towards me – it was just some sad, lost individual who needed to ‘cut, paste, and dump‘ their darkness into as many inboxes as humanly possible.

(The world is seriously filled with some miserable human beings )

So I deleted my comment section once and for all.

I shut down my potential source for validation, and I started to remind myself DAILY that I write for myself. Sure, I love the fact that some people enjoy reading my writing, but I have stepped away from that being the defining point for me. I mean, if you look at my blog stats, they are pretty dismal.

My bounce rate sits at a whoppingly impressive 81%

(Which roughly translates to 81% of humans that start reading my post bouncing right out of there without even finishing the first page.)

Do I care?

Nope.

Not in the least.

(I am an acquired taste;-)

I write because I love it and because somehow…. writing keeps me sane!

Lo and behold, I somehow managed to silence that needy, validation-seeking part.

I was so proud of myself.

So proud indeed.

And then….

These last 6 weeks, that pesky little validation-seeking minx

snuck up on me again – albeit, she was wearing different clothing.

And all the while this has been going on, I’ve been immersed in reading and writing about attachment theory. I understand how, as human beings, we are wired for connection. From the moment we are born, our very survival depends on someone noticing our cries, holding us, feeding us, soothing us. Being seen and responded to is not optional — it is hard-coded into our biology. I realise all too well that if our needs for connection and attunement weren’t met as children, we learn that our feelings don’t matter, that we are not truly seen. This, in turn, wires our nervous system to expect dismissal, and later on in life, being ignored feels like reliving that same dismissal all over again. I get how damaging inconsistent and unpredictable caregiving can be – making childhood confusing and creating a heightened sensitivity to any sign of disconnection.

Feeling ignored becomes unbearable because it echoes that old unpredictability.

Reverberating that very old ‘untruth’ that I don’t matter.

*********************

So,

I get it!

I get it!

I get it!

Lesson learnt.

(again)

Thank you, universe.

My feelings exist.

I do not need external validation, approval or agreement

from anybody else.

I will stop giving my power away to random people

who have no real stake in my life,

no understanding of my journey,

and NO say in my value.

(PS, could someone send me some super glue to make it stick, please!;-)