'I'm not going to f*ck it up this time'
On learning to trust yourself and navigating the powerlessness paradox as an adult child of an alcoholic
I love a good motivational quote. But I love it even more when they don’t sound motivational. In my opinion, the most inspiring adages come from honesty. That’s why I love and relate so much to the Post-it note that art critic Jerry Saltz hangs on the bottom of his computer monitor. It displays perhaps the world’s most blunt affirmation: I’m not going to f*ck it up this time.
I laughed out loud when I first saw this sticky note during a TikTok tour of Saltz’s Greenwich Village apartment. Like him, I also stick notes to myself all over my apartment. But the affirmations I write on them are often much more flowery and lofty.
After watching the video, I immediately copied Saltz and stuck an identical reminder to the bottom of my own computer monitor.
Trusting myself — a work in progress
I’m still learning to trust myself. It doesn’t matter how many accolades I achieve, how many assignments or bylines I get commissioned or how many party or press trip invitations I receive. There’s always a Loch Ness monster of fear below the surface, stirring up my compulsion to keep achieving — or else.
Or else what?
Confronting fear, I often realize there’s never a substantial “or else” behind this threat. It’s just a big ol’ boogeyman dancing around, trying to scare me into running away from some vague notion of The Big Scary. Sometimes, I just have to interrupt these spiraling thoughts to bluntly say, “I’ve got this.”
Which is what Saltz’s Post-it note did for me.
Now of course, if you’re here, you know that the boogeyman can be very real to a child who grew up in an alcoholic home. Adult children of alcoholics (ACAs) know too well that a loving parent can become a boogeyman with just a few swigs. When they do, there’s no telling what types of conflicts might arise.
Becoming an adult means the real threat of the boogeyman may go away, while the imaginary danger still lingers in the imprint of memory. Our conditioned responses wait, lurking and listening for the trigger that will send us into an emotional regression, warning us not to become too successful or happy.
Self-esteem and why we shouldn’t fake it
Nobody talks about how hard it is to change one’s self-image after growing up in an alcoholic home. Though ACAs are often hardwired to achieve great things to escape their environments, this achievement is not the result of genuine self-esteem. Sure, we might work hard, but without self-esteem, success feels as random as winning a prize inside of a cereal box. We don’t view success as the inevitable result of our thoughtful, consistent effort, but rather some last-ditch life raft that swooped in from the sky and rescued us. Even if we hustled to find the raft, we still view ourselves as a helpless kid clinging on for dear life.
This failure to see success as the inevitable result of hard work is the definition of imposter syndrome, according to psychology researchers Leona Day and Dr. Ginette C. Blackhart. (Check out their findings on the link between adverse childhood experiences and imposter syndrome.)
Entrepreneurship and hustle culture don’t help this paradigm. They too often glorify the myth of the scrappy bootstrapper who almost loses everything before one final Hail Mary saves the day. Why do we keep pushing this narrative?
The powerlessness paradox
Everyone faces the dilemma of low self-esteem in some capacity, but ACAs experience it more specifically within the context of learned helplessness. Learned helplessness is a significant byproduct of the family disease of alcoholism. As children, we were incapable of fixing or loving the addict into recovery. However, we still tried. Slowly, this dynamic corrupted our innate, child-like trust and generosity as we learned that no matter how “good” of a child we were, we were helpless to change our caretaker's behavior.
Paradoxically, learned helplessness drives the compulsion to seek even more power and control.
As the Big Red Book puts it, some adult children “believe they are all-knowing, all-sensing, and all-flexible. They secretly feel powerful in their ability to adapt to any situation or group of people they might encounter. These adult children usually see no need to ask for help in their lives, believing they are self-sufficient and beyond such a need … They tend to manipulate others for things they want, but find out they are not happy with themselves when their wants are met by others. These adult children rarely stop to think that self-sufficiency is covering up a fear of rejection which they think could come if they ask for help.”
This describes me. In my family, I became known as the lecturer, the soapbox pontificator who told everyone how to live, even though in those early years of taking on this role, my age could still be counted on two hands. Life hadn’t revealed even half of its lessons to me — it honestly probably still hasn’t!
As a result, countless phone calls and arguments with my family ended with exasperated eye-rolls. It was quite common for me to hear, “Megan, I don’t want to be lectured right now,” from the people I loved the most. This perplexed me. All I’ve ever wanted to do was to help. But the disease of alcoholism had warped my pure offerings of love into nit-picks and holier-than-thou life coaching that, quite literally, nobody asked for. This dynamic severed my connection to my ability to express genuine love and appreciation. If you were raised in an environment where the simple phrase, “I love you,” came tumbling out of your mouth as thinly veiled sarcasm and snide remarks, maybe you relate to this, too.
While my defense mechanisms may have mimicked confidence, playing the archetype of the all-knowing ACA, the wise-beyond-her-years little girl who became a quippy sage felt like nothing but a phony colosseum built upon a bed of styrofoam — destined to downfall. Worse, it never felt like me.
All this to say: This is why I don’t believe in “boss babe-ing” one’s way to the top — especially for ACAs. Can we please put “fake it to make it” to rest? In my experience, faking it only erodes true confidence because it continues to reroute the pathway between a person’s true intentions and their self-expression, distorting how they show up in the world.
Instead, I’m interested in what recovery promises: having integrity with one’s truth, awkwardness and all. I’ll know I’m truly confident when I notice myself doing that.
Making it count: Journal prompts for ACA recovery
📓 Write your own version of Jerry Saltz's Post-it note. Jot down a list of 10 simple, clear affirmations you could say to yourself to combat self-doubt. Be loving and blunt. Then, choose one or two to hang up in your home. How can these reminders help you stop overthinking and reclaim your true instincts?
Bonus: What’s new in my world
💡 Rediscover your true self while thriving in business: Over the past three years of self-employment, I've earned multiple six-figs while carving out more space to reconnect with my true identity and flourish. Want to create this kind of balance and success for yourself? Check out my free email course.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Please remember I speak from my own experiences and admittedly biased childhood memories. I share because I believe that one person’s story holds universal meaning that can help others make sense of their own lives. I do not represent any specific program or methodology; all views are mine. Please take what serves you and leave the rest.