My Old, “New” Family Tradition

Sixteen years ago, when I became estranged from my entire family of origin, the prospect of starting over, all alone without any family seemed very daunting.

Just as with mourning any physical death, the emotional deaths I experienced cut off from my family were overwhelming; first family vacations, birthdays, holidays – all the events that suddenly vanished with no connection to my history.

Prior to estrangement, my children had spent their weekends and summer vacations at our “family” vacation home on the lake, just as I had as a child, and as my father had before me. I was Ill- equipped to deal with the enormity of this loss in tandem with the loss of my family. We needed a new traditional get-away that would become special to my children and me. We chose the San Juan Islands as an annual destination and began building new memories before we even had a chance to mourn the old.

For the first few years, I just went through the motions of doing something new. My heart was not in the task before me, nor with the new environment surrounding me. A number of years passed before I realized that we had developed a new tradition that was less stressful than my prior experience. Although I never stopped mourning the lake, our vacations became a time of fun and excitement.

For the past 14 years, my daughters and I have reminisced about our prior summers on the island while we continue to create new memories. We look forward to the same traditional activities, good food, exercise, enjoying one another’s company, and teasing each other with the same “inside” family vacation jokes.

We leave tomorrow for our fifteenth annual “new” family tradition. Be back next week!

Triggers

Sometimes, while reading, playing with my kids, working, laughing with a friend, or talking with my guy, a sudden gesture, word, memory, or even a smell transported me back to a frightening time. I found myself stuck between two worlds; the one I inhabited as a child – which at least for the moment inhabited me – and the present. At that instant, it was difficult to discern which one was real.

As I surf many survivor blogs, I am struck by the number of times I read the word **triggers**. In fact, the trigger warning seems to be rather common place today. Sadly, common means many.

It’s good to know that we are not alone; it is sad to know that so many have endured similar pain.

It’s good to see so many breaking their silence and healing; it’s sad to see that so many need to heal.

It’s good to know my experience doesn’t separate me from humanity like I thought for so long, but rather connects me to humanity in so many ways.

After suffering from terrifying triggers for decades, I can’t remember the last time I felt triggered. I do still have memories, but they feel in the past rather than the present. Sometimes, I get sad and mourn for the little girl of long ago. I feel compassion for myself and empathy for others. And sometimes, I even get angry. But, for the first time in my life, I feel safe.

There is hope!

Analogies

I like analogies. Often during my healing process, analogies have helped me wrap my head around concepts by making them clearer. Yesterday, I heard Dr. Robin Smith use an analogy on Oprah and Friends radio that I found interesting. Her analogy was called “Taking an air-conditioner into hell.”

She said that we all find ourselves in circumstances that are slowly killing us either, physically, emotionally, or spiritually and we stay in hell while we try to mitigate the damage in order to endure our situation. She said this was like, “Taking an air-conditioner into hell, rather than leaving hell and beginning to heal.”

Prior to adequate healing and understanding my patterns of behavior, a number of stressful or damaging relationships affected my life. These failures manifested themselves from my old programming – misplaced trust and inappropriate responses. I responded to feelings of betrayal out of fear, focusing on the other individual rather than resolutely safeguarding my own well-being.

Some of these relationships were so toxic that I needed to move on. For others, it was a matter of learning to exercise clear, respectful boundaries in order to leave my own personal hell behind and let the healing begin.

Who Wants to be the Bad Guy?

The answer is – Nobody!

This certainly holds true for family estrangement.

I can’t count on my fingers the number of times I’ve heard estrangee’s say that family member(s) refused to see them and then those same estrangers were maneuvering to make it look as if the family estrangement was the estrangee’s fault.

They questioned how to respond so they didn’t come off as the bad guy to extended family members and friends.

The truth is – when you are on the “other” side of any family estrangement – you are perceived to be the bad guy; it is the nature of estrangement. So, make decisions that are best for you, rather than trying to attain an unattainable outcome.

Our experiences are OUR experiences and quite often they do not align with those of our "loved ones.” Regardless of how other people view our circumstances, we need to stand firmly and confidently in our own truth and make choices for ourselves accordingly.

I haven't met anyone yet (including myself) who has said, "I am estranged from so and so, and it is all MY fault." We tend to say, "I am estranged and it is THEIR fault; listen to what happened - this is my experience."

Currently, after moving through the reconciliation process with my mother, I have a new vantage point. She has her experience and I have mine. They are quite different; yet, to me it doesn't matter.

Sixteen years ago, I estranged myself from my mother. I don't regret my decision to estrange. As painful as it was - it afforded me the opportunity to heal from my abuse and find some peace in my life.

In the beginning of our estrangement, I looked at our conflicts and considered myself right. I needed to do this to build a foundation for healing - to honor the depth of my injuries, to release my anger and to mourn my losses. It was the first layer of a necessary process.

Later, I understood that we were both "right" about our own experiences. Even though I could "hold" both of our experiences I still kept proper boundaries and didn't see her because I didn't feel safe. It was a major step for me to be able to have compassion for her without acting on that compassion vs. only seeing my side.

It seems clear that everyone has a right to protect themselves from severe abuse. My experience was that the estrangement was necessary for my very survival. At some point during our estrangement, I realized that whether I liked it or not, Mom and I had different experiences. Mom's experience was that I kept causing turmoil in her life by "complaining" about the abuse in the family. As skewed as this may seem to me, I do agree that this WAS her experience. My complaints DID cause turmoil in her life.

During our estrangement, I sought and received validation from others that it wasn't okay to abuse me. And Mom sought and received validation from others that I was a trouble-maker and shouldn't have cut her out of my life for any reason.

Nobody wants to feel like the bad guy. Finding the balance between confidence and compassion comes from within.

Why?

Like many survivors, once I moved passed my denial and accepted the reality of my abuse, I questioned: “Why?”

“Why was/is my mother so cruel to me?”

“How could my own mother _______(reject, betray, torture, abandon) me?”

I think it is human to question why. We long to make sense of it all. As if the answers will magically give us a handle on what happened.

In time, I realized that my questions were fruitless and that they kept me stuck in an unhealthy emotional place. The important thing was to move forward with my own healing, and so I did.

Yet, people continued to ask me, “What was your mother’s childhood like? What happened to her that caused her reactions to life and to you?”

I do appreciate why they asked me this question. They wanted some relief from their discomfort.

I understand wanting some relief. I remember watching the move “Sybil” many years ago. I was horrified for Sybil throughout the movie and kept asking myself, “How could a mother do such things?”

Finally, towards the end of the movie, it was divulged that Sybil’s mother was schizophrenic. I felt a sense of “relief” when I heard this, because the diagnosis offered an “explanation.” Surely, no “normal” mother would “mutilate” her daughter’s internal reproductive organs with a knife.

I “walked” away from the movie less disturbed, and that really horrified me!!!

The diagnosis didn’t change Sybil’s trauma, or experiences; it didn’t serve to lesson the impact on her life. I felt ashamed that I let her mother’s diagnosis mollify me.

In my books, I deliberately avoided any theoretical discussion as to the root causes of my abuse. I know this leaves the reader more “disturbed” about the abuse, but it more closely aligns with the survivor’s experience. As children, we did not have the benefit of understanding “root causes,” or our parent’s history. We didn’t know we were taking on our parents issues. For instance, all I knew was that my mother told me I was “bad,” and I believed her.

As children, we didn’t get the relief so many people want when they hear our stories. In my opinion, we should feel disturbed when we see, hear, or read about abuse, rather than mollified.

It is my hope the day will come we when are able to take the emphasis off of the perpetrator and our own discomfort in order to “share the burden of pain” with the victim/survivor and make an effective shift in our collective humanity.

Weddings and Funerals

People experiencing family estrangements often agonize over what to do about weddings and funerals. To go, or not to go? Often, neither option feels good.

The answer is different for everyone depending on the circumstances and whichever decision brings us the most peace.

During my fourteen year family estrangement, I had to deal with this issue a number of times. The most difficult was my grandmother’s funeral six years into our estrangement. Although I loved her deeply, I simply did not feel safe enough to attend. Grandma had refused to see me right up until her death. At that point in my abuse recovery, I still wasn’t capable of facing what I believed would be a continued wall of angry abuse, blame, and rejection. The soul-crushing isolation caused by not attending her service left me devastated. I stayed home and cried all day. Yet, I never regretted my decision.

Two years later, I found an invitation to my brother Brandon’s wedding in my mailbox. Recalling the angry words he wrote to me in a letter eight years earlier gave me pause. Nonetheless, I regarded his invitation at face value, even though I didn’t feel safe enough to attend the wedding.

I immediately sent Brandon and his fiancé a gift along with a letter revealing how honored I was to be invited to their wedding. I told him that I regarded the invitation as a wonderful gesture of love, wished Brandon and his bride-to-be every happiness, and expressed my desire to meet with them after the wedding.

Fourteen years into our family estrangement, I did attend a family funeral. It was important to me to go. I wanted to say good-bye to my cousin and to honor what was a good part of my family history. Although the thought of facing my family felt very challenging, I believed I had healed enough to face the challenge. I am so glad I went.

My gentleman friend went with me for support. We arrived just in time for the service, sat towards the back, and felt touched by the sweet and faithful service.

After the service, we mingled a little to say "hello" to some of my extended relatives, and left. I was prepared to be cordial and go about my way if I had unavoidable contact with my mother or brothers; however, I didn't have any contact with them, nor did they attempt to have any contact with me.

Overall, it was an emotional day, but it couldn't have gone better.

Each of these situations presented their own set of challenges. Nonetheless, to this day, I am satisfied that I did the right thing for me at each point in my estrangement and recovery.

The Underlying Gift in my Estrangement

When we hurt, sometimes it is difficult to see anything other than our pain. For me, estrangement seemed like drawing the “short stick" - a matter of survival - but not emotional prosperity.

After the loss of my childhood to physical and emotional abuse, I was determined to construct a healthy life for my daughters and me.

As painful as my estrangement was, I used the time to grow in ways that would not have been possible while having a relationship with my family members. My greatest emotional growth occurred as a result of my separation from my mother. Our parting was essential for me to have the time to heal in an environment free from re-injury. It forced me to develop my own sense of self, separate from my family and shook me free from my denial. Estrangement gave me the space necessary to learn to set boundaries within the safety of a protective cocoon.

Of course, during the bulk of the time I was cut off from my family, I saw only the down side of estrangement – feeling rejected and disconnected. I wanted to heal from my abuse, be safe, and have relationships with my family. It wasn’t until after we reconciled that I saw the underlying gift in our estrangement. I am who I am today as a result of all the hard work, self-nurturing, and support I received from other individuals in my life that would not have been possible if I remained “enmeshed” in an unhealthy family dynamic.