Page 206 of Tell Me I'm Enough

Even Mason.

The most trauma I knew growing up was…what, not having my dad hug me or tell me he loves me enough?

Doesn’t really seem comparable.

My mom was the one who ran the house. She was very strict with me, and I was a pretty sheltered kid because of that. She never wanted me to go through some of the things she experienced growing up.

So I guess that’s why I never really got put in any situations to experience the trauma others have gone through.

But I still understand pain. I think that’s universal. My empathy has always been pretty high for others. I just want to fiercely protect the people I love.

Our professor clicks to the next slide on her laptop before going back to standing at the center of the room.

“Something that we see repeatedly in family systems,” she says, pacing slowly at the front of the lecture hall, “is what we call the role adoption theory. Children—especially emotionally attuned ones—often step into roles they were never meant to be in at their age, specifically in their adolescent years.”

I go from mindlessly writing down notes to actually paying attention now.

“They are forced to become caretakers, mediators between adults or other family members, the peacekeepers in the family, the emotionally mature ones, or the anchor for people who should betheiranchor.”

My pen hovers over the page, taking it all in.

“These roles don’t disappear in adulthood,” she continues. “They evolve. And if they’re never examined, they can become patterns we repeat without realizing why. Typically, in very unhealthy ways. You would think these skills learned early in life are beneficial in adulthood, but it’s actually the opposite. When a child is forced into roles they aren’t emotionally or mentally ready for at their age, it will almost always backfire into self-destructive patterns. They take on these roles at their own detriment throughout life.”

The professor gestures toward the screen where a diagram shows overlapping circles labeled Attachment, Trauma, and Reinforcement.

“People who grow up in relatively stable environments are sometimes drawn to partners or friends who didn’t,” she says. “Not because they’re broken—but because familiarity doesn’t always mean similarity. Sometimes it means complementarity.”

I glance sideways at Lydia, who’s scribbling something in the margins of her notebook, brow furrowed in concentration. She’s listening hard. Always does. Like she’s afraid that if she misses something, it’ll cost her not just in class but in life.

“These individuals often believe—consciously or not—that love looks likefixing. That care means sacrifice. That staying is proof.”

I never understood when Lydia would say she felt like the class was talking directly to her…but I do now.

I still don’t understand it, though. Why do I keep loving people so deeply who are already bleeding?

It’s always a heartache when I can’t fix all the holes they have. And then that just makes me feel like I’m useless, as if I’m responsible for them getting better.

If they don’t, it’s on me—it means I didn’t do enough, that I’m to blame.

Mason’s face flashes in my mind without warning. The way his eyes always go distant when he thinks no one’s watching. The way he laughs too loudly, drinks too much, and hurts so quietly.

I see Lydia—the way I’ve tried to drag her through every phase of life and pain she’s had to go through.

I think about Camilla and how Lydia probably took on so much guilt for her sister’s death, even when it wasn’t hers to take.

Even my dad, in a way. Loving him always felt like waiting to get something he didn’t know how to give.

What does that all say about me?

The professor pauses, letting the room sit with it.

“Sometimes,” she says gently, “people who haven’t experienced overt trauma feel guilt for their relative safety. They seek pain externally, because they don’t understand why they feel so deeply when they shouldn’t.”

I swallow, connecting with that a little too closely.

Maybe I didn’t have enough fucked up shit happen to me growing up.

Maybe that’s the problem.