Fearing Abandonment

On my mother's side, the values of hard work and strong family ties run deeply. My great-grandparents were dedicated farmers, nurturing their land and raising nine children amidst constant activity. Their farm became the heart of our family legacy. I cherished the annual family reunions in the expansive 40-acre woods behind our home, affectionately known as the "timber picnic." These gatherings brimmed with laughter, warmth, and a profound sense of togetherness. From hayrides and bonfires to pumpkin carving and storytelling, each moment was steeped in the spirit of family. These reunions not only created lasting memories but also instilled in me a deep appreciation for the significance of family and community. Through shared joy and experiences, I came to understand how vital strong familial ties are. They serve as anchors during life’s storms, offering support, love, and an irreplaceable sense of belonging. These gatherings taught me that regardless of life's changes, family remains a consistent source of strength and joy—a treasure to be nurtured through generations.

Growing up as a twin felt like having a built-in best friend. My brother and I shared countless adventures, from backyard explorations to creating imaginary worlds in our living room. We were inseparable, always engaged in friendly competition. Despite being just a few minutes apart, our personalities couldn’t have been more contrasting. This dynamic made us a powerful duo. He was a foot taller, often playfully hiding behind me from strangers, a quirk that became a cherished memory. I acted as his spokesperson, effortlessly voicing his quieter thoughts. Our bond was so profound that we even created our own secret language, a code that only we understood. This twin connection characterized my childhood, filled with laughter, sports, and the unwavering love of our seemingly perfect family. My father coached my soccer and tee-ball teams, making me feel like a star. With seemingly flawless parents and grandparents who showered us with unconditional love, I believed I belonged to an ideal family—until everything changed.

The tender memories captured in countless hours of film now seem like relics of a distant past. My parents' divorce when I was about seven shattered the perfect image of our family. My father’s betrayal and subsequent departure to begin a new life with another family left an irreplaceable void in our hearts. My mother, our unsung hero, took on both parental roles, raising my brother and me with steadfast love and resilience. Yet, the absence of my father left an unmistakable impact on my life. I watched as he transformed from the loving dad in those home videos to a mere shadow of his former self—consumed by alcohol and indifference. Over time, the chasm between my father and us widened, marked by his apparent disregard for our existence. Despite starting a new family, he made no effort to include us in his life, leaving us as strangers in his eyes. Family occasions came and went without acknowledgment from him, as if we were forgotten remnants of his past. The pain deepened as we witnessed him creating new memories while we remained mere afterthoughts. His promises of inclusion, of a room in his new home, turned out to be hollow echoes of a father who had long forsaken his responsibilities. Communication dwindled to almost nothing, with his calls becoming as rare as shooting stars. He forgot to call us on our birthdays and neglected to share family news. We were adrift in a sea of unanswered questions, wondering what had become of the man who once held our world in his hands. The silence was deafening, a stark reminder of his absence and our longing for a father who had long ceased to exist.

Growing up in such an environment, the fear of abandonment became a constant presence, lurking in the shadows of every interaction and relationship. For a young girl already facing the challenges of adolescence, the absence of a father figure magnified feelings of insecurity and unworthiness. Questions of self-worth inevitably arose: Am I not enough to keep him around? What did I do to make him leave? The void left by my father's absence cast deep scars, shaping not only my identity but also my perceptions of love and trust. The fear of being left behind, of never being sufficient, loomed over my relationships, infusing interactions with apprehension and uncertainty. Despite my efforts to conceal my insecurities, the fear of abandonment remained a silent specter, a constant reminder of the fragility of human connections and the pain of being left behind.

Yet, life continued, and despite the pain, I resolved not to let my father's actions define me. I was determined to become a better person than he could ever aspire to be. With unwavering support from my grandparents and my mother, I embarked on a journey of self-discovery and resilience. My mother, a true fighter, understood our turmoil and became our anchor during the storm. She filled our days with activities, school, and sports, deliberately distracting us from the harsh realities of adulthood. I couldn’t have asked for a better mom—she made me feel loved, valued, and cherished, filling the void left by my father's absence without ever speaking ill of him. Her strength and unconditional love became my guiding light, illuminating the path toward healing and forgiveness. Through her example, I learned that love transcends the deepest wounds, and true strength lies in choosing kindness and compassion amidst adversity.

Abandonment also appeared in the form of losing my grandpa to health issues. Though he didn't pass away, he was forever changed. He had always been a wonderful grandpa, even though he wasn’t blood-related. He spoiled us and was always there to drive us to our games and practices. I remember the joy in his eyes as he cheered us on from the sidelines. His love for my grandma was evident to everyone, and they tied the knot in a beautiful ceremony in Orlando, FL, when I was just a kid, although I sported a rather funky haircut in the photos—I had tried to trim my hair right before the trip, much to everyone’s amusement. However, everything shifted in 2013 when he suffered a stroke that altered his life dramatically. My grandma, who had been his loving wife, suddenly found herself as his caretaker. Even with her nursing background, the transition was undoubtedly challenging as she watched the man she loved struggle to reclaim his health. Yet, she remained steadfast, honoring her vows and caring for him throughout his recovery. Though he made some progress, he was never the same; the stroke had stolen a part of him, leaving behind a shadow of the man he once was.

Witnessing my grandpa's health struggles intensified my fear of abandonment. Observing someone I loved and admired undergo such a significant change instilled in me a sense of vulnerability. It served as a stark reminder that even those closest to us can be taken away or transformed in an instant, forcing us to confront feelings of loss and abandonment. Yet, through it all, my grandma's unwavering commitment to my grandpa taught me invaluable lessons about loyalty and dedication, showing me that love endures even amidst adversity.

About a year ago, on February 17th, I lost my grandma unexpectedly. She was more than just a grandmother; she was a guiding light in my life, stepping in to help my mom fill the void left by my father when I was so young. Losing her shattered my world, leaving me feeling lost and alone in a sea of grief. None of us—my mom, my brother, or I—had ever imagined how to navigate life without her. She was our cornerstone, the glue holding our family together through thick and thin. Her laughter could chase away the darkest clouds, and her presence was a beacon of strength in even the fiercest storms. Losing her felt like losing a piece of ourselves, a pain more profound than we could have anticipated. One moment she was there, and in the next, she was gone, leaving us to gather the shattered pieces of our hearts in her absence. In the aftermath of her passing, we found ourselves thrust into a new reality—one where we had to shoulder her responsibilities alongside our own grief. Caring for my grandpa, her husband, and our “adopted grandkids,” in addition to making funeral arrangements, suddenly fell upon us without warning. It was a heavy burden, made more difficult by the gaping hole her absence left. She wore many hats in our lives, and facing each day without her seemed unfathomable. Yet, as we struggled to come to terms with her loss, I couldn’t shake the sting of abandonment once more. Losing her reinforced the fragility of life and the painful truth that even those we love most can be taken from us in an instant.

The unexpected loss of my grandma only deepened the wounds of abandonment. Her absence left an impossible void, a gaping hole in our family’s fabric. As we navigated the complexities of grief and loss, the sting of abandonment returned. Yet, amid the pain, I found solace in our shared memories and the bonds that transcend time and space. The legacy of abandonment may linger, but so too does the resilience of the human spirit—a testament to the enduring power of love and family.

The fear of abandonment can have profound effects, often resulting in harmful behaviors and coping mechanisms. For me, this fear manifested as an eating disorder that consumed my life. Food became both a source of comfort and a battleground, a paradox of solace and shame. Each meal turned into a struggle as I battled conflicting emotions of hunger and guilt. The thought of eating triggered overwhelming anxiety, leading to restrictive eating patterns and unhealthy weight loss. The control I exerted over my food intake offered a fleeting illusion of stability in an uncertain world. Yet, beneath the surface, the fear of abandonment loomed large, driving me to desperate measures in a misguided attempt to fill the void left by my father's absence. It wasn’t until I confronted the underlying issues that I began to heal from the deep-seated wounds of abandonment and regain control over my relationship with food.

Alongside my struggle with an eating disorder, anxiety became a constant companion, tightening its grip with each passing day. The fear of being abandoned by those I loved fueled a relentless cycle of worry and apprehension, leaving me paralyzed by irrational fears. Every missed call or unanswered message sent my mind spiraling into a frenzy of worst-case scenarios, convinced that I was being left behind or forgotten. My constant need for reassurance strained my relationships as I grappled with trusting the stability of my connections. Despite my best efforts to rationalize these fears, the fear of abandonment gnawed at my mind—a persistent reminder of the fragility of human connections.

In relationships, the fear of abandonment cast a shadow over every interaction, leaving me paralyzed by insecurity and self-doubt. Every disagreement felt like a precursor to abandonment, triggering waves of panic. The dread of being left or replaced haunted me, compelling me to cling desperately to those I loved in a misguided effort to prevent abandonment. Yet, despite my efforts, I found myself caught in a paradox—I yearned for love and connection but simultaneously feared the inevitable rejection I believed would follow. Convinced of my own worthlessness, I often sabotaged potential relationships before they could blossom, believing I was protecting myself from pain. This cycle of self-sabotage only reinforced my belief in my unworthiness, perpetuating fear and mistrust in my relationships. It wasn’t until I began challenging these ingrained beliefs and fostering self-worth that I started breaking free from the chains of abandonment and forging healthier, more fulfilling connections.

Through my journey of grappling with the fear of abandonment and its extensive effects, I’ve learned that healing begins with self-compassion and awareness. By confronting the underlying wounds of abandonment, we can start unraveling the tangled web of insecurities and fears that hold us captive. Seeking support from trusted loved ones or professionals can offer invaluable guidance as we navigate our emotions. Practicing mindfulness and self-care can help ground us in the present moment, fostering inner peace and resilience. Ultimately, healing from the fear of abandonment is a journey requiring patience, courage, and vulnerability. It’s about acknowledging our worthiness of love, even amid past hurts. By embracing our vulnerabilities and learning to trust in the resilience of the human spirit, we can transcend the pain of abandonment and forge deeper connections with ourselves and others. Through compassion and a commitment to self-growth, we can rewrite our narratives and create a future filled with love and emotional freedom.

In the depths of my struggles with fear of abandonment, I discovered solace in the timeless wisdom of Scripture. The words of Psalm 27:10 reassured me, “Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me.” This verse reminded me that even in moments of earthly abandonment, God’s love remains steadfast. In Isaiah 41:10, the Lord declares, “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” These words became a beacon of hope, reminding me that I am never alone. As I learned to release my fears to Him, I found peace in Philippians 4:6–7: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” With these verses guiding me, I learned to trust in God’s unwavering love, knowing He will never abandon me. Matthew 6:34 encouraged me to take life one day at a time: “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

Additionally, I found comfort in the melodies of country, rock, and folk music. Each genre provided a unique lens to explore and express the complex emotions weighing heavily on my heart. From the raw honesty of country ballads to the primal energy of rock anthems and the tender strains of folk melodies, music became a sanctuary where I confronted my pain, found solace in shared experiences, and began my healing journey.

Artists like Zach Bryan, Noah Kahan, Turnpike Troubadors, Treaty Oak Revival, Josh Meloy, and Whsujwy Myers resonate deeply with me. I love asking new acquaintances for their music recommendations, as it reveals much about their perspectives. Notable suggestions include "Brown Haired Blue Eyed Baby" by JD Clayton and "Springtime Red Tulips" by Bo Staloch.

I plan to further explore the topics discussed above, but it was essential to share a part of my story with the world. Speaking about my experiences is challenging because they are so close to my heart.