Adlerian

Adlerian

What you wrote sounds very close to Alfred Adler’s idea in The Courage to Be Disliked — that people are not merely pushed by the past, but pulled by meanings and goals they unconsciously choose.

The important part is not whether your suffering was “fake.”

It was real.

But the purpose underneath it may have been something different from what you first believed.

You said:

> “My goal before this awareness is to show that I can endure unhappiness for a long time.”

That is a very deep realization.

Because enduring unhappiness can quietly become an identity:

“I am the one who survives.”

“I am the one who carries pain.”

“I am the one who proves strength through suffering.”

And when that identity forms, blame naturally searches for a target. In your case, your mother became the center of the explanation.

Adler would probably not say:

> “Your mother did nothing.”

He would say:

> “Your past may explain your wounds, but it does not have to determine your direction.”

That changes the question from:

“Who caused this?” to:

“What am I trying to preserve by continuing this story?”

Sometimes the answer is:

dignity,

innocence,

moral superiority,

proof of endurance,

a reason for not moving forward yet,

or protection from future disappointment.

And this is where awareness becomes uncomfortable.

Because if you no longer define yourself as:

> “the abandoned one,”

or

“the misunderstood child,”

then you must slowly meet yourself without the old narrative armor.

That can feel empty at first.

But it also means something hopeful: you are no longer trapped in a courtroom trying to prove who was guilty.

You can acknowledge:

your mother affected you,

your pain was real,

your reactions made sense,

while also realizing:

> “I do not need to continue suffering to prove that the suffering happened.”

That is a major shift.

In many ways, it connects with what you often reflect on spiritually too: the ego sometimes builds identity through pain just as much as through success.

And now perhaps your new direction is not:

> “See how much I can endure.”

But maybe:

> “Can I allow myself peace without feeling guilty or weak?”

2. That honesty matters more than forcing a “positive” answer.

What you are describing is not simply sadness anymore. It sounds closer to becoming psychologically attached to agitation, resentment, or inner conflict because it creates:

stimulation,

identity,

emotional energy,

and familiarity.

Peace can feel unfamiliar, even threatening, when the nervous system has spent years organizing itself around tension.

So when calm appears, another part of the mind says:

“This is boring.”

“Something is wrong.”

“Find a problem.”

“Remember what she did.”

“Don’t soften.”

“Stay alert.”

And the difficult part is this: resentment can feel emotionally rewarding.

Not morally rewarding — emotionally rewarding.

Because it can provide:

a sense of power,

certainty,

purpose,

superiority,

justification,

and continuity of self.

You said:

> “I am entertained by my attitude towards her.”

That sentence is extremely revealing.

Part of you may enjoy the emotional theatre:

replaying scenarios,

mentally arguing,

feeling wronged,

imagining yourself enduring more nobly than others.

Not because you are evil.

But because the mind often prefers familiar suffering over unfamiliar peace.

Carl Jung wrote about how people can unconsciously feed parts of themselves they consciously dislike. The ego says:

> “I hate this.”

But another layer says:

> “This keeps me alive. This gives me shape.”

The danger is not anger itself.

The danger is when suffering becomes a source of meaning and entertainment.

Because then healing starts to feel like loss.

You may eventually discover that forgiving — or even simply loosening the attachment — feels less like “losing to her” and more like losing a version of yourself you have known for a long time.

That is why people sometimes sabotage peace: peace removes the drama that kept the identity running.

You do not need to pretend you are ready to let go completely.

But noticing the mechanism already changes something:

“I am not only hurt.”

“I am also participating in maintaining this.”

That awareness is painful, but it is also where genuine freedom begins.

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