There have been so many good posts, sayings, and such floating around in my Facebook newsfeed lately. I'm going to share a few that especially resonated with me:
When I was going through the PFA process and had hoped for my family's support--primarily my dad's support--I was turned away. I finally told my dad on April 10, 2010 that until he can actually, TRULY, see me, hear me, and know me for who I am, he can't be in my life (*spoiler--getting to know who I am was apparently too much to ask). That conversation was also before he did and said some very horrible things that ensured he would never be in my life again--tomorrow is the 11 year anniversary of that trauma and leaving my paternal family behind (there is no maternal family--so in truth, I lost all of my family with that event). My paternal family didn't truly know me in my youth or as a teen--yet I was so often the scapegoat for the entire family (not just my brothers, but my cousins, too) and they STILL, to this day, believe I am the person that they decided I was 30+ years ago. The wretched thing? I was never that person then, either. It's seemingly always been what best fits their narrative of who they want me to be and what works to make them look better as people. A couple of examples--when I lived with my father, the middle brother would frequently do things like staying out all night--I would get grounded, not him. The reason? I was the oldest and set the bad example. He would stay out all night, no consequences--but I would get grounded for a week because of what he did--not once, not twice--regularly. In 2001, a family member left her husband for another man. Somehow the family turned it into me getting her into drugs and that was why she left her husband--not that she and her husband had marital problems--my family managed to even make things like that MY fault. The funny thing? She didn't do drugs then and neither did I, but somehow it was all still my fault. This has been my reality for 47 years, so obviously--they should all have less issues with me removed, right? At least that seems logical to me... If I am the problem, and I am removed from the equation, they should all have lovely pleasant lives now. Even though I have removed myself these past eleven years--it still gets back to me the nasty things said and apparently I am still to blame. Why would anyone want to go back into that type of relationship?
April 22, 2010 was when I discovered that the family's negative perception of me was all much deeper, much worse than I could have ever guessed--honestly, the pain of knowing what they deeply believed about me was all was too much. Even with 36 years of pain and hurt from them prior to that day--that was the grand finale of what I could handle. 2010 is when it all finally reached a head and I put my foot down and said "no more"--but that's also when my own healing started... Eleven years now, I have been without a "family". But I am so much better off without the emotional damages keeping them in my life brought. It's extremely damaging to have a family and parent that make you out to be a villain and the root of all family evils--that has been my role since birth and to this day, I have no idea why. But I am grateful that I was finally able to walk away. Obviously, deep scars still remain and probably always will, but my life is much more peaceful now and their absence from my life feels more natural and less painful these days--that's a blessing, too. I missed them terribly in the beginning; I begged them to see things from my perspective--apparently, that wasn't an option and I did finally give up trying. My entire life had been spent trying to gain their approval, their love, their understanding--simply for them to see me, hear me, and to know me for who I am--not the narrative that they had created. It's amazing how difficult (and sometimes impossible) it can be to change those family dynamics--especially when you are the only one that seems to want the dynamics to change.
The truth is, there are so many people that will hurt us deeply throughout our life--partners, friends, coworkers, even random strangers--but nothing compares to the pain that our family can cripple us with. We see other folks with loving, supportive families and we wonder why we can't have that, too. The unconditional support and love of a family is what we hear about all of our lives--but not all of us have been shown that support and love. As children especially, we internalize it and think that it is because we aren't lovable. So we try harder, we adopt hobbies that they enjoy thinking maybe they will spend time with us, we go out of our way to be the best human we can be, because at some point they may love us, accept us, or even be proud of us. Many of us become overachievers because just one more accomplishment may be what makes that love and support finally happen--but the flip side is that we can't be happy with any of our own accomplishments when we are doing them for someone else and they don't even care. It all feels hollow--we are left feeling empty--there becomes a void within us that we struggle to fill with anything (food, sex, material possessions, anything to either help us feel momentarily "full" or to blank out the emptiness and make it hurt less). This cycle can go on forever and for some folks it goes on until their dying breath. At what point is it acceptable for us to have had enough? At what point does the rest of the world understand when we finally say "enough" and walk away? At what point does the world understand that we cannot continue to function with that level of pain?
It's funny, when I was with the PFA-partner, those relationship patterns and dynamics were still playing out on another level. I gave him everything and tried so hard to make him happy--for him to love me and be happy with me. He took and took, giving out abuse in return--in my eyes, if I just tried harder it would get better--he would quit hurting me and would love me as much as I loved him. But it wasn't until he destroyed every shred of my self-esteem, my love for him, and my sanity that I walked away--and just like that, as I was leaving--he suddenly decided I had worth, he suddenly saw me as "his soulmate", he wanted me in his life more than anything--but it was too late. So very too late. Too much damage had been done and I had nothing left to give him. Sadly, I only had value in his eyes after I became unattainable. But it is funny, how similar those overall dynamics were to the dynamics within my family. I was enemy number one while I was present and in the relationship with the PFA-ex--after leaving, something was missed about me--I think it was having me as a whipping post; having something/someone to hurt was what he missed most. The love-blasting only lasted with him as long as he thought there was a chance that I would move back in with him and he would have his "cash cow" back--when he realized that the love-blasting wasn't working, I wasn't coming back, it got even uglier and that's when the PFA process was forced to begin.
With my family, there was no "love-blasting" after I left--they took it as confirmation that I was all the bad things that they had believed all along with me. "See? See how horrible she is? Look at what she is doing to her own family!" It was actually my youngest brother that started with me not existing within the family. For the next year, my youngest brother withheld my nephews from me, but he did invite my PFA-ex to family events instead. If I was present, my youngest brother actually pretended that I wasn't there--if I spoke, he ignored me--if I looked at him, he looked elsewhere--as far as he was concerned, I did not exist. He also said and did some pretty terrible things during that time that cut me to the bone. As for my father, he refused to talk to me about what had happened--he refused to hear how any of it felt for me--he chose to tell me instead that he was the hero of the story and it's too bad I couldn't see that, too. What choice did they leave me? A person can only try for so long. It's pretty simple:
My father says that I am bitter, vindictive, and other lovely things--those are the reasons that he seems to believe that I stay away. They still don't see how the years of hurts, harsh words, and false accusations were too much. They can't see how the events and the way that they treated me through 2010 and 2011 were the "enough" that I needed to finally walk away from the pain. Again, they can't see me, hear me, or know me for who I am. My absence is the only sane option that I can see at this point--it's a matter of self-preservation. There is no accountability on their end--just me being "too sensitive", "bullshit" being the answer when I have tried to explain how and why I was hurt, or other reasons why my feelings were invalid or wrong. Throughout my life, attempts to explain my feelings or show them who I am have been met with such resistance that it's really surprising that I even tried for the 36 years that I did. People don't get to hurt you and then also tell you that you aren't allowed to be hurt by what they did--what reality does that come from? When they hurt you and then try to tell you that you shouldn't be hurt, it adds another layer of pain--after so long, the layers become too deep and the only choice is to walk away from them and the pain they repeatedly cause you. I understand that we all need to be the hero in the story, but when we destroy other people to become that hero, we can't be upset when they leave us without looking back.
But this is all another reason that I am so grateful for the others like me out there, the ones that share their story, too--the ones that share the quotes in this post. Knowing that I am not alone and that there are others out there that "get it" and don't treat me poorly for walking away from my family are a huge blessing. It gets so exhausting when well-meaning people say "But they are your family, they love you, you have to forgive them, you have to spend time with them..." Those folks haven't walked in my shoes, they have no idea what any of this has felt like from my perspective, they just don't know. They weren't around for the tears, the heartbreak, they don't hear or see me, either. To me, the friends that understand and support me in what I had to do are invaluable. I may not have been able to find the love and support I needed in my birth family, but I have found it in other folks like myself. And I walk so many of my clients and friends through similar challenges--I have always tried to use my own hurts to help others--it's the only way to turn darkness into light. I hope they are able to eventually find inner-peace and love, too. And these days, my accomplishments are for me--nobody else and I no longer keep people that hurt me, no matter who they are. Until then, I have a new goal, myself:
My youngest brother and I do speak now, but it is still rare. I think we have mostly moved beyond the events from 2010-2011, but I am not sure that we can ever return to where we were before that. He was my best friend and I looked at him more like my own child than a brother and his children were my world--now? We still have some good conversations; I think he sees those events more clearly now--he has even apologized on some levels for his parts in it, but he also still struggles with feeling stuck in the middle of the family rift. These days he lives 1000 miles away, so chances to repair the relationship are much more difficult, as well. I have never even met his 4 1/2 year old daughter; I haven't seen my nephews since January 2014--we have all grown, changed, and are separated on most levels.
As for my dad, he has four kids and four grandchildren, these days. I live twenty miles away, but it could be on the other side of the planet, at this point. He did send me a Christmas card in 2020 that was nicer--no lectures, no nastiness--just a simple "Merry Christmas"--I do see that as progress on his part. He has a son with three grandchildren 1000 miles away; another son 600+ miles away; plus another daughter 350 miles away, but he didn't even acknowledge her when she lived 10 miles away from him--so their nonexistent relationship now is no surprise. He still sees two of us as an extension of himself, but he does seem to be proud of them now; as for the other two of us, one doesn't exist in his eyes at all and I gave up trying eleven years ago. Again, what were the other options? He stated so many times while we were growing up that if we were fish he would flush us down the toilet, so I guess it is no surprise that we are all so far away physically, emotionally, and in most manners. While I accept that he may have tried his best to be a father--he reminded us repeatedly that he would have preferred to not try at all. Maybe sometimes those types of wishes do get answered...
