Rose-colored glasses

It is said that we don't get to choose our family, but we get to choose our friends. Hmmm. If we finally come to the realization that we were nothing to our family, pawns, tokens, in their lives, then are we still subject to that same notion? I think not. It's a hard realization that someone thinks or thought so little of you that they would not protect you, would not believe you when you said there was something wrong, or even when you said in no uncertain terms what was going on, could not fathom the concept that someone would abuse you?

Personally, I've had rose-colored glasses for many years. I wanted to believe that my family loved me and had they known, would have protected me. How foolish that was. I guess I needed to believe that to survive. But it is different now.

Things have gotten very out of hand and the stresses with family are more extreme. Why? Because I am saying the truth and they are saying "I didn't know" or "I don't remember". My mother is wanting me to be like her, no boundaries, let everyone else determine what happens in your life. Well, NO!

Recently, had a conversation with my mother that was one-sided (mine) and heated, because I had already been betrayed. I said in no uncertain terms that her handling of recent events took me back to childhood where she did not protect me. Her response - How was I to know? HELLO??? Who was the adult in this situation? Not me.

Anyway, I told her to leave me alone for awhile. If she loved me, she would do this. Do not call, give me time. You can write, but that is all. And I left. Hard to do to a woman who is frail because of chemotherapy and years of not taking care of herself. But, I did it. And I doubted myself later. Why? Because moms are supposed to be good, so mine must be, right?

So how did she handle this? She called and left a message on my cell that " maybe we could start over again". What???? Did I not say to leave me alone for awhile? Is this not the ultimate disrespect to me? She will never understand. And I guess I will have to figure out how much I will allow her to influence my life. I can tell you now that that level has decreased significantly.

The reality of the true actions of family during the times of abuse are very hard to handle. My rose-colored glasses have been lost. And it is very sad.

Mother's Day

Is there a way to celebrate Mother's Day for mothers who don't know how to mother. For mother's who continually need attention. Attention that requires too much from you.

For the first time in my life, I yelled at my mother. Well, actually, my spouse would say I raised my voice. But that is a lot for me. Why did I do this? Because she was defending the man in her life over me and my son. Hmmmm.... sound familiar?

She cannot handle the fact that I do not want to interact at all with her boyfriend who has gone against my husband's and my wishes and has attempted to usurp our authority. I will be visiting up north, with the primary goal of visiting family that is closer to normal, and will possibly spend time with my immediate family. My mother is upset because I will not come to her house if her boyfriend is there or go anywhere with him. She is so upset that she is telling everyone one and gaining some sympathy. I can tell because I have actually gotten a letter from my mother's sister telling me to "have it in my CHRISTIAN heart to forgive".

Obviously, neither of them get the picture. Forgiveness is not the issue. Why would I subject myself and my son to someone who only cares about themselves. My mother and her boyfriend both fit that picture. Why would I continue to expose my child to this poison?

Why after all these years, is it not surprising to me that my mother would choose to defend the man in her life. She did not choose to side with me. She chose to believe that my son was a liar and I was obviously crazy for believing that her boyfriend was the problem. When I was a child, she cose to pretend there was not problem and did not protect me. Hmmm...

Well as Bill Engvall would say "Oh, Wake up!" Even though I did not know what it was to be protected by my mother I will protect my own son! That is a guarantee. Even though I did not stand up for myself when I was younger, I will stand up now and say "enough is enough". Screw you family. I will move on and find a way to live my life.

Mother's Day....No, I did not get a call from her on Mother's Day, even though I am a mother too. Well, I didn't talk to her for almost a month. And when I did, I had a lot to say. And she continued to defend her boyfriend. Is there a future for us? I don't think so. But it sure is hard to walk away from an old woman knowing that your acts will cause her much pain. Yes, it is long overdue. But it is still hard.

Family History (and Future)

Busy again. A busy mind and a busy life. I've been working on a family history album. Not a history that includes my abuser. A history of the more healthy, normal side of the family. I've enjoyed it but I'm glad I've put a book together and put it aside for awhile. It can be very consuming.

It was also somewhat sad as well. I have often felt disconnected from family. Mostly I believe because I was disconnected from myself. Now I am much more in touch with me and I guess not sure about connecting with this extended family. I have been watching from afar most of my life I think.

Let me tell you a bit about them. My birth father died when I was a baby. He had five sisters - three older and two younger. All of these women have been career women with college degrees, several with at least two degrees. They have been achievers. They have been strong women. They have been independent women who were also deeply connected to each other and their own families and friends. And spiritual women, though maybe not in the same way I think of spirituality. The oldest was very involved in my life during my childhood and young adult life when I lived in the same area as her. She was always encouraging me to go to college, to achieve. The next two sisters lived out of state so I did not see much of them. I do know that one was a PE teacher back when that was uncommon for women and cheerleading coach. The next younger sister became a social worker and is now a Licensed Mental Health Counselor. The youngest was an elementary teacher, then HS teacher and now teaches at a Community College.

They are fine examples for me. This is not the example set by my own mother. Like many of you, my sisters, your mother was weak and helpless and you suffered for it. It's difficult to be strong when this is your example in life. So, I am very thankful that I have others to look up to and follow after. I have done that successfully.

When I started doing the family history, I told myself it was because I wanted to update what my oldest aunt had done back in the 70's and 80's. While that is true, I feel like I have learned so much about the family. I have gotten in touch with an aunt I haven't seen since I was a child and talked to a cousin I haven't seen since then as well. I've spoken more often to the two younger aunts than I have in years. It has been a great experience. For part of the family history book, I asked the surviving sisters, the youngest 3, to write memories of the family that had passed on. The stories about my own father brought tears to my eyes. They still do. The youngest two remember their big brother very fondly and both stated the family was never the same after his death. I admit it did cause me to grieve a bit about what I never had, the father I never got to know.

Everyone I gave a copy of the book I created was pleased. Some overwhelmed with emotion. My aunts have connected with my husband and are planning a big girl's get together this summer. They wanted to fly me up there, but he said he would and they could plan a trip to the City. So that will be coming up in June. I look forward to it, but am anxious as well. How will I handle it? I'm hoping I will be able to open up and let them in. And let some healing occur. Let some bonds become more firm.
Time will tell. I've got to get my mind set. What wonderful experiences are waiting for me?

Vacation?

I used to love the TV show "The Waltons". And for that matter, even "The Brady Bunch" or "The Partridge Family". These were great escapes for someone who knew her family was sick or at least knew there was something better out there.

So this summer I returned to NJ to visit my family. And they are nothing like John Boy and Mary Ellen. I haven't been back in a few years. Why did I bother? Mom's aging, getting sicker, may be the last visit...take your pick. So, I embarked on a journey with my son to visit the childhood home area. We stayed with mom, that in itself was a challenge. From chain smoking boyfriend who can't be trusted to a mother who cares more for placating people than standing up for the truth, .... well it was challenging everyday for sure.

However, in spite of these challenges I was able to make some great strides. I was more able to be in touch with me and not be the doormat I was trained to be as a child. I was able to talk with my brothers briefly about the abuse....at least enough to tell them about the threats, the intensity and duration of the abuse....to talk to them about how it had destroyed the whole family and our relationships. They were both rather quiet, not knowing what to say or how to react. At least they didn't react negatively or just tell me to get on with my life. I did realize later through comments from both of their wives made that they had been affected and were saddened by the abuse I suffered. At least a little bit.

I also attempted conversation with my mother. I learned a bit more about her and understood a bit more how weak she is as a person. I understood how she had been touched sexually by a brother-in-law at a time when you could not speak up about such things. So much so that as a senior adult, when her sister passed, she still feared being in the same room with this man. I feel pity for her, as I see her just being swallowed up by life's experiences. In the face of recent illness, she seems to be giving up.

Mostly, since being home with my own, I feel thankful that I have been blessed. God has given me strength to survive and overcome years of abuse. He has blessed me in an unbelievable measure. I am able to share freely about my childhood without fear, well maybe a little anxiety still :o) I am able to begin to help others to heal. I believe the strength God has given me is not just for me, but for me to help others. My experiences, though awful and rather extensive, pale in comparison to those of some of my sisters. I'm referring of course to Sisters who have been abused. If I do little else in my life that the world may recognize as successful, if I help another Sister to heal, to move toward wholeness and peace, then I have done well.

God Bless. Peace to you. And thanks for listening.

Family

What does one do with family? As a child, you assume every family is like yours. You may assume as I did that your parents love you and would protect you no matter what. Brothers too would care and protect you. But i learned very early on that I would not be protected. So, my mom was still my mom. Confusion arose, of course, but she was my mom. So when the abuse continued and the threats made to maintain silence increased in intensity, I protected my mom. Because that is what family is supposed to do. Or so I thought.

So now I'm older. I've been through counseling and much healing has occured. But in my family, I am still viewed as the same. Still the one to dump on, use for your own purposes, pretend I exist for your needs. I don't really exixt within the context of my family. Not the real me anyway.

Someday I will confront my brothers. Tell them the truth. But, I don't know if that will change anything as far as our relationship. But, I will no longer be there to dump on and I will take no grief.

My mother....what can I say. She knows some of the truth and can't handle the rest. She is still my mother, but by genetics and name only. There is no real mother daughter relationship. And I don't think there ever will be. Because in order to have that type of relationship you have to have trust. And she has betrayed me over and over again. So, I will keep my distance. And grieve for what could have been.

The Doormat

I don't remember when it began. I was quite young. But I do remember the night that I knew I was on my own, that no one would protect me. I think I was six.

What happens to a child when they know that a monster is after them and wants to harm them and no one will help them. They try to hide but cannot. So they hide inside themselves.

I don't know when I began to do this. But trying to hide the pain and keeping the secret were all consuming. I began to feel like keeping the family happy was my responsibility. My burden. The threats that I receiving from stepdad also helped burden me with unbearable responsibility. "If you tell, then mom will be mad at me" or "She'll divorce me and it will be your fault" and the motherlode "I'll kill myself and everyone will be unhappy and it will be your fault." Much, much more than I could bear. Than I should have been made to bear for I was only a child.

So, I learned my place in my family. I was the doormat, my feelings, my reality, my entire being not worthy of mention and certainly not worthy of the family's attention. Meant to be used, abused and forgotten. And so it was...

The Doormat

Treads come undone,
No repair is made.
Torn, tattered and ignored.
Cleaned up superficially,
So to be seen by the world.
Outside presentable.
Bring no attention or disgrace.
Foundation not lain.
Empty inside.
No strength to protect,
But always there to be used.
Value unknown.
Not cared for by most,
Ignored by the rest.
Walked on, used, abused and
Thrown away.

Some things in childhood stick with you for life. These things are such a part of you that zometimes you don't even know where they came from. It's that way with childhood abuse. You have to adapt to survive. You lose sight of yourself for awhile. For some it may be forever. You add on these characteristics, these appendages of sorts, and act the way others expect you to act. The secret makes that necessary. You have to pretend everything is all right. So, hiding your true self becomes easy. Your inner self can get lost under all those years of survival and adaptation.

Then, as an adult you continue to run the game the way you have been. Funny, that even though you have long been out of the abuse situation and may even be far from family, you still act the way you programmed yourself to act. If and when you are around family, you definitely continue to act that way because that is who you were around them and that is what they expect.

At some time, as you begin to heal, you realize that your're not happy with that. You realize you don't even really know yourself. Maybe it's that empty feeling inside that keeps gnawing away at you. You know that you want something different and you begin to tear off layers and layers of these appendages you've added. You begin to discover yourself. And part of that is discovering who you were, what your identity was in your family.

As you try to make changes in yourself, you may find, as I did, that others don't want you to change. They like things the way they always have been. But, change anyway. You owe it to yourself to be you. But don't be surprised when your family and maybe even friends don't adapt with you.

"Taking off the old and putting on the new" requires guts. Be patient with yourself. You have to try it on for size. It takes practice. But you can do it. You are worth every ounce of energy it takes. TTFN