Released: Conversations on the Eve of Freedom

by Gypsy-Rose Blanchard

Faith is having a feeling that you are safe. And that what is making you safe has the power to see you through anything. It’s kind of like you are in the palm of God’s hand. You can go through a hurricane, you can go through a tornado—any kind of storm—but God has you in the palm of his hand and he won’t let anything happen to you. You are safe. That is faith to me.

I feel like I have been put through a lot of storms, and yet I am still not broken. I am not a broken person. I am worthy of being loved; I never had that self-worth before. I am not damaged; I am safe.

it’s a process to let go of the grudge and negativity that can weigh you down. It’s hard.

I try to exercise that self-compassion, remembering how far I’ve come, how much work I have done to get to this place where I know I am flawed but not broken.

I have this mental image of an idealistic version of myself—successful, kind, independent—but I know I can’t get there immediately. And nobody can do anything without help,

I consider myself a work of art in progress. I have the vision for the final masterpiece, but I’m...

Am I even an actual person, or am I just a character?

Melissa: This is the thing about boundaries . . . Gypsy: Yeah, don’t set them too late.

Living the life I had with my mother, my only prayer was to have a normal, average life.

It was always my fault. I got blamed for everything, even my father leaving my mother. I got blamed for her sisters not favoring her, which made it hard for me to form a relationship with them. My mother uniquely positioned a wall between me and her family, the Pitres, which is one of the reasons I didn’t call them for help. Any failures in my mother’s life were because of me.

I learned that my attachment to my mother was an insecure one, so I made it my mission to please her on the off chance I could turn some of her other personalities in my favor. My self-worth was dictated by what my mother thought of me, how she reacted to my performances, and the big one: whether or not she’d withhold her love. Love was a dangling carrot that made me jump higher to please her, even if it meant going against what felt right.

My mother used love as reward and punishment, withdrawing it on demand.

I’d cry, “I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time. Just love me.” She did this thing where she’d just ignore me; she’d give attention and love to the cat instead. She’d baby talk to the cat as if having a private conversation and pretend I wasn’t sitting right there, like I didn’t exist—I was invisible and nonexistent to her. If she did acknowledge me, she’d snarl at me and turn back to kissing the cat. That was the worst.

When you’re groomed to believe you’re not worthy of love or even of “like,” you tend to lose yourself to people-pleasing. Narcissists prey on insecure people. Validation and love become mechanisms for control, and later, as with most childhood grooming, validation- and love-seeking patterns learned from childhood seep into adult relationships, and not just romantic ones.

I added my love for animals and being outside—even though my time in nature was contained to being in my backyard, marveling at butterflies and slugs.

he’d threaten to pull that love away. I was familiar with the carrot-and-stick game. My mother loved me when I was sick and took her love back when I wasn’t. In order to be accepted and loved, I needed to meet the expectations of others.

As a human being, I know who I am. I would like to think I have a good idea, but the idea that I am enough is hard for even a person who had the perfect upbringing. Self-worth is hard to develop for a lot of us, which makes me feel, I guess, a little normal, if that makes sense.

Being a people-pleaser requires you to submit a part of yourself to the person you aim to please. You give up your own needs and desires, and put the person’s interests in front of your own. In return you expect a payment in the form of validation and acceptance. This kind of currency is dangerous because the cost is you.

and for far too long remained one-dimensional.

So, freedom to me is never having to feel like I have to conform myself to the demands of others to feel loved and seen. All of my life I have had to conform to fit what others wanted me to be.

My mother wanted an eternal child.