So when I got to therapy at the age of 20 I had no real sense of self and it was pretty underdeveloped due to childhood trauma. At that time when I got to therapy I wouldn't have known to name my major problems that I had going on as not having a sense of self—that knowledge definitely came later in the course of therapy. Therapy was extremely helpful to me in getting my sense of self back, and actually it was therapy with others in group therapy that I was doing that I'll talk more in depth about later.
At that time in my life, to give you a picture of what not having a sense of self looks like, for me it looked like this: I couldn't bring myself to disagree with people. I was extremely flexible, if not malleable, with other people. Making decisions was excruciating and I would continuously put them off because I could not make a decision to save my life. I hid things that I liked or that I was passionate about for fear of how people would think about that—things like books, ideas, bands, whatever. I would also put up with a lot of off behavior from friends and partners for fear of losing connection.
Not having a sense of self is really a security issue. Related to that, I didn't have the skills to bring something up or even know that bringing something up during conflict was an option without blowing up on somebody or having that come out of nowhere, which is a trauma symptom. Being in a relationship for me made me feel okay and secure rather than having an inner sense of security and foundation. I was really lost without having a person in my life. Being in a relationship to me felt like a life vest.
I also had no sense of having any personal power or choice. I would only get out of situations due to last straws. I didn't know that I could leave a job when I wanted to or leave a relationship when I wanted to. It always had to be in the worst circumstances that I could bring myself to leave something. My value was based upon performance. My worth was not internal, rather it was dependent on how I did—things like performances or what I provided.
I was also a chameleon in groups of people, not really knowing where I landed socially. I talk about that in a video called "11 Oddly Specific Childhood Trauma Issues." And lastly, probably the most important part here is that I felt like I was a fraud as a person. I saw others being able to assert themselves and their needs or embrace their choices and live from a place of authenticity without really worrying about what others would think or say. All of that really baffled me, even though I wanted to be like that. This felt like impostor syndrome—not that I couldn't manage Excel or something like that, but that I felt like I was a fraud as a person.
Instead of having a strong inner healthy sense of self, like most childhood trauma survivors I had to come up with something like a good enough substitute, which is the false sense of self. We all need something to come up with when we don't grow up in healthy attachment and safety.
Related to that: at age 11 I started playing drums. Weirdly enough, I chose them to make myself stand out from the other kids who were good at sports. It was a strategy—but I didn't do it from having an inherent interest in playing the drums. I just did it to kind of be somebody. Fortunately I fell in love with playing drums and it really helped me through some terrible years. In my late teens I played in indie bands and clubs, and being pretty good at it, I thought that was my identity—"Hi, I'm Patrick, I play drums."
Playing drums for me and getting attention from it felt like having a life vest in a sea of anxiety and doubt about feeling like a fraud at life otherwise. It was the one thing that gave me value in my mind. It made me okay. Only value and ability is kind of transactional as a human in the world, and pretty egoic, but I'm grateful for having that ability to play music because it kept me buoyant. Without internal resources, if I had a great night at a show then I had value. If I made a mistake at a show then I would get super neurotic or needy about it and I lost any sense of goodness—which is the theme of this video.
Many childhood trauma survivors find that same kind of life vest of value in things like sex, appearance, work, being an artist, being a rebel, or being super achieving. We find something, but it's not fully who we are. It's just a part. Valuing ourselves based on what we do solely always ends up empty. Our worth becomes conditional and fluid. Goodness doesn't really stick in those conditions. Only good performances count, and even those are fleeting.
Not having a strong sense of self doesn't mean you're totally vacant or empty—there is enough there to build upon. It's important not to confuse numbness with not having any self at all.
Let's define a sense of self. Many childhood trauma survivors struggle with identity, personality, and sense of self, because there's overlap between those three. Identity is what we identify with—values, politics, music. Personality is what we're born with and how it's nurtured by healthy attachment. Sense of self, which is our focus here, is a foundational awareness of identity, personality, inherent goodness, and power that comes from self-love and acceptance.
Goodness means worth, integrity, dignity—the opposite of shame. When children are told they're bad or unlovable, their goodness is gone, which can feel like a life-or-death experience. That loss of goodness and safety is what trauma survivors carry into adulthood. Shame tells us we don't deserve a seat at the table. A healthy sense of self is the opposite: it's the assumption we belong at the table.
A healthy sense of self looks like:
the ability to include oneself socially and belong,
the ability to disagree without huge inner turmoil,
knowing who we are in a good-enough way,
not absorbing feedback as shame,
sticking to convictions,
being comfortable being alone,
making and changing decisions without shame,
having personhood and sovereignty,
being able to advocate for oneself,
being able to push back.
Having a sense of self doesn't mean it's easy—it means you have the ability.
How do we lose it? Unhealthy parenting. Healthy parents allow differences, unhealthy parents assign roles. Healthy parents support choices, unhealthy parents conflate needs as selfish. Healthy parents model boundaries and authenticity, unhealthy parents are shut down, manipulative, or grandiose. Healthy parents allow emotional struggles, unhealthy parents demand suppression. Healthy parents provide unconditional love; unhealthy parents make children feel like they are the problem.
The unhealthy messages are: to have a self means to manipulate, to be someone means to burden others, voice and personhood are not options, the process of building self is skipped, and it's not that you're a child, it's that you're a problem.
So how do we rebuild a sense of self?
First, identify what's missing. Things like: can't say no, can't take risks, can't disagree, can't make decisions, can't be single, hiding likes, never pushing back, never asking for clarification, never considering ourselves. Write concrete examples of when this harmed you. Then, start inner child work: active conversations with the undeveloped self, giving it love and mirroring.
Second, look at feelings. Feelings are fuel for self. Self is action. Feelings are things like inspiration, boundaries, sadness, joy. Self is decisions, assertion, choices, aspirations, inevitability, power. Where they overlap is authenticity. Journal about your childhood feelings. What did you feel about the stepparent? About being treated differently than siblings? About wanting your parent to be happier? About shame? Those were your feelings—they fuel self. Imagine what would have happened if a healthy adult had validated you.
Third, social practice. We need others to mirror and validate us. Join therapy groups, 12-step programs, or safe communities. It's scary but it's healing. Groups let us practice being authentic and being seen.
My turning point came in group therapy at 20, when after a conflict another member simply said, "You're a good person." That lifted me out of a 15-year depression. Hearing that changed my life, because I had unconsciously assumed I wasn't a good person.
Not having a sense of self makes us dependent on performance or approval. That's why abusive relationships are so dangerous—approval gives us a fleeting sense of self. But your self is already there, in your feelings, in what you felt was right or wrong as a kid, in what you wanted to become.
We just need help to green-light that self. When safe people reflect back things like "you're creative, funny, deep, carefree," and it surprises you, it means you're not yet in tune with yourself. But you can get there.
I hope this was helpful to you. I would love to hear your thoughts.