How conditional love leads to a need for perfection

Part of a series on Conditional Love

If my writings are for you, know this:

* You aren't crazy, the world is.
* You aren't bad, you're deeply wounded.
* You're not stuck or lazy, you're injured so severely you can't move.
* Much of the shame and guilt you feel is grief.
* You may have never felt real, healthy, love.
* You are not alone, God cannot be taken from you.

One of my first memories was coming home with a report card of straight As and having that be treated as 'meh'. Learning my best friend had gotten a single A, and a video game console for it, then asking my dad for a different console, and being told "Why would I reward you doing what you're supposed to do? Straight As are expected. The bare minimum." This is the textbook example of so-called 'conditional love'. What it taught me was that perfection was the bare minimum? I mean, how do you do better than straight As?

I asked about after-school activities. Sports, clubs, etc. I was always told no. We weren't poor, but we had to budget. In high school, that changed a bit. There was a single club I was allowed to participate in. It had very minimal costs, and my dad had a better job with more income. Even when I got straight As and was in that club, there was no reaction. No amount of trying harder would make me 'more perfect'. I learned that no amount of effort would ever make me worthy of praise.

This created a child who, at church, saw any sin as making you unworthy of calling yourself a Christian. Yes, I was that kid. Yes, I was aware that applied to me, and it took me a LONG time to accept I could be saved. I might even argue I was not saved until my late 30s, when I really had a true breakthrough on what it really meant to be forgiven, and loved. But that's for another post. So, those people in your life who are super judgemental? It may be a defense mechanism pointed outward. They view perfection as the bare minimum for acceptance, and they cannot understand how anyone, or anything, is 'worthy' unless it's perfect. And that wound goes so deep into their soul that it feels like dying when they make any little mistake. Getting a parking ticket? Feels like dying. Walking out of the store without all their groceries? As embarrassing as walking outside naked. Losing at a game while learning? They are an utter failure and incapable of basic tasks. Etc, etc.

The important thing to understand is the person's mindset. If they are trying to heal, trying to admit fault, trying to do better, then embrace that, and explain to them what is wrong, and why. Give them a space where they can fail, over and over if needed, and you are still there, consistent, patient, and kind. In their mind (and in mine) their sole value to the world is their ability to be useful. Let them sit on a couch next to you and just exist. Love them simply being present, even when they perform no useful or valuable tasks. Make it ok for them to come over, eat dinner, and never pay, not have to contribute to the conversation, not have to buy groceries. You want them there for them. Embrace their attempts to show love and be useful, but never make it a requirement. With YEARS of consistency, you can start to crack the walls around their heart.

But the person who never admits fault. Never admits anything is wrong. Never shows a concern for others? That person is not yet ready to heal. Tell them a honest appraisal, that their wounds may be in their past, but that they have to admit there's a problem before any steps forward can be taken. It will wound them, but, well, Chernobyl (the miniseries) said it best: "When the truth offends, we lie and lie until we can no longer remember it is even there, but it is still there." and "What is the cost of lies? It’s not that we’ll mistake them for the truth. The real danger is that if we hear enough lies, then we no longer recognize the truth at all."

There was also a mental re-framing technique that actually helped. Instead of feeling shame that I walked out without all my groceries, admit that what I really felt was grief that I couldn't allow myself to find, and fix, a mistake without intense self-flagellation. Grief, that I had been so badly and consistently hurt that simple mistakes were taken as life-threatening danger. Grief that nobody had ever seen who I truly was. Grief that I had so much farther to go. Grief can be processed, it can be used to mourn, and eventually heal. Shame and guilt? Those are mortal wounds, which do not lead to healing.