I’m hoping I have a solid enough relationship with the kids to help mitigate some of the anger and damage. Maybe I can help them understand where she’s been coming from and how to progress on their own.
And this is where I constantly struggle. Sometimes I set the boundaries and other times I confide in them.
Maybe when there comes a time when I find validation in myself, maybe I will loose the reflex of finding that in them.
It’s not proposed as a solution, but only as a statement of fact. Some people suffer from an agoraphobia so severe that they’re unable to work, go to any public space, etc… So, doctors will state so. And agoraphobia isn’t always successfully treated, contrarily to what you seem to believe. Finally, even if it is eventually successfully treated, it doesn’t mean that meanwhile the patient is able to lead a normal life.
In the case of my ex (which is how we got on this subject), it certainly could not have been ‘so severe’ if she was able to work at a crowded public venue like the Rennaissance Festival, or hang out at the Mall of America. If there had been some hint that this was therapy to get her on her feet again, I would have bought it. But she was never interested in being able to resolve her problems or get off disability. Instead, she tried hard to convince me how broken I was and to convince me to try to get on disability to join her in this life of luxury.
I learned a valuable lesson in the marriage. She needed her burdens. Every time I solved a problem or took a burden off her shoulders, she created another to take it’s place. The only net result was that I very quickly became responsible for all her problems, the source of all misery. In my willingness to take responsibility to try to fix things, she gave me responsibility for her being broken. I inadvertently gave her the monster she needed in her life in order to not be responsible for anything she did.
Before me it was her step-father and her previous exes. After me, it became her mother and step-father again. She even tried to gain my sympathy and support because of their “seeking to destroy” her in the middle of her trying to destroy me in the divorce process. Just mind boggling that she would do all that shit to me and then think I could be played again for support WHILE she was doing it to me.
A very valuable Life Lesson that some people not only do not want to be saved, and they’ll not only happily take you down with them, but that there are even some who will destroy you if you help them. She wasn’t the drowning person who drags you down with her in blind panic, she was the drowning person who screams rape and tries to knife you because you grab her when she’s going down.
I don’t believe they are always successfully treated, only that anxiety disorders tend to have higher rates of recovery because CBT works so astonishingly well with them. My post wasn’t an attack on agoraphobics, it was attack on Chimera’s crazy ex’s therapist. While I see that there are cases in which agoraphobia may be a genuine disability, it seemed in that context to be just another way of enabling her.
I’ve written before about the various abuses which happened while I was growing up. It was the mental abuse which has had the longest affects. I’ve struggled with anxiety and the fear of making mistakes for decades after the chief abuser, my father, died.
After invoking a memory of a situation with my father, one counselor asked me to describe the current state of anxiety associated with that memory, on a scale of one to ten. I asked what the score would be if someone were holding a loaded, cocked shotgun to your chest. He said a ten, so I said that my (then) current anxiety concerning the memory was a ten.
One cause was that I grew up with the fear that in one of his out-of-control, raging storms my father would kill me. Not too long ago, my mother confirmed that she was afraid that my father would slip past that thin line from just average physical abuse and become deadly. That she remained speaks mountains for her state of mind.
It took three or four years of work with this counselor to be better at separating current anxiety from the past. There were many days I would have forty or fifty anxiety attacks in the five to seven range, and a half dozen at eight plus. (I sometimes would keep track, it’s surprising how much it adds up.)
I remember the first day that I got home from work after not having had any attacks that day. I was such a great feeling, like a huge burden had been lifted off my shoulders. Being able to buy ice cream without worrying if were the right choice or just having a quiet moment to myself felt so good.
The other side was the deep sadness, hurt and pain. Without an outlet as a child, it becomes part of your identity, and it was difficult to move past that.
Fortunately, the work with the counselor has paid off. I’ve been going through some more anxiety recently, but I’m able to use the various techniques I learned there, plus a few more I picked up on my own and can talk myself out of the VFA, or vague feelings of anxiety, as I call it.
Although I’ve struggled for many years, I keep working. I’m to the point I feel comfortable raising children, which is good since Beta-chan in on the way. I know that there are no perfect parents, but I’ll do better than my father.
I’m also fortunate that I found a wonderful person to share my life with. We love each other deeply. She naturally good natured, and has been a really stabilizing influence.
Other siblings have had mixed results. My oldest brother had had a stable job, but cut everyone out of his life. When I confronted him a few years back, he wouldn’t take responsibility for raping me, so I don’t know if he’s made peace with the situation.
My oldest sister is doing well, homeschooling her two kids. Second sister is a complete mess and I’ve written about my mentally ill younger brother. The later two seem to feel that they don’t need to support themselves and should receive handouts from my mother.
I know the fear of which you speak.
I wasn’t beaten, I was just bullied, shoved into walls, held down and smacked around, no fists–the objects in my bedroom got the worst of the abuse–but a few times she hurt me on accident–once gouged a big old bleeding scratch across my face while she was trying to hold me down and slap me, for instance–and so I’ve always known, deep in my heart, she was out of control.
One of my most heart-stopping moments was the gun day. Things had been escalating-- fifteen minutes or so of her throwing and breaking shit and chasing me around – when she suddenly screamed, ‘‘Do you want me to go into your father’s bedroom and get his gun and shoot you?!! Is that what I have to do to get you to shut the fuck up?!!’’
Now, she didn’t have the gun in her hands, but it wasn’t more than 10 feet away, completely in her reach, and I had no doubt that she would hesitate to use it. I remember closing my mouth and staying absolutely still. I didn’t move a muscle. For possibly like 20 minutes, long after she’d left the room, I didn’t move, because I truly believed that if I did I was going to get shot.
I agonize over that day on occasion, I’ll bring it up to my husband – ‘‘Do you think she really would have killed me if I’d made her angry enough?’’
His answer: ‘‘Whether she really would have or not is irrelevant to how it’s affected you and whether or not it is completely inexcusable abusive behavior. It’s never even crossed my mind that the answer to your question changes anything at all.’’
Once you live in an environment in which you believe that you’re capable of making your parent angry enough to kill you, that physiology sort of stays with you long into adulthood. As an adult, I started having panic attacks associated with catastrophic world devastation fears – literally that the world was about to end. I was convinced the world was about to end at least 20 times a day. A plane flying overhead was actually a nuclear bomb or a meteor about to smash into the earth. I also worried about random Columbine-esque gun violence. Though I’m mostly over it, I still get nervous in a movie theater whenever someone comes in late. I assume, naturally, that they are coming to shoot me.
First, I’m really sorry to hear your story. That really is sad. It is tragic to have to grow up thinking that no matter how “badly” you behave, that you would in any part be responsible for that level of abuse. Unfortunately, I’ve internalized that as well, and it’s taking many years to shake that out.
Abuse is insidious because the mind makes connections which aren’t there. Your sense of danger works overtime. My father would come unglued, almost at random, so there wasn’t any safety ground to know where to retreat. From that, I grew up terrified of making the slightest error, or being extremely defensive of mistakes. It’s like I would still be expecting something terrible, even though I had grown up and the person wasn’t my father.
That’s exactly what I came here to say.
And now when I see “normal” people, it freaks me out. To me, normal means that their messed-upness is closer to the surface.
This thread has really been enlightening. Thank you so much for sharing what must be so personal and painful.
My mother was abused physically, verbally, and sexually (through shame, not molestation) by her mother, and while she is an upstanding member of society and never abused me or my brother, she still has a lot of lingering issues. TokyoPlayer, this –
– sounds just like what my mother has said. I sometimes get frustrated with her when she tells me about coworkers or friends whom she needs to confront but to whom she’s too afraid to say anything, out of fear that they’ll flip out on her. My thinking is that these are rational people who are highly unlikely to start screaming or throwing things, but reading what you’ve said, it seems that this fear is kind of hardwired in her brain due to her childhood.
The sad thing about her is that she has taken on a victim status, and she clings so tightly to that image that I think the idea of going to therapy and healing herself seems like a new kind of trauma (like her pain has made her who she is, and letting go of that would mean losing herself). She’s the second of seven children, and for some reason (too complicated to go into here), she, her elder brother, and her next younger brother were the only ones to get the brunt of my grandmother’s anger. And now (well, really, since adulthood), only her elder brother will acknowledge that their mother was abusive. I try to remind myself that her Victim Act™ is rooted in a desire to get her family to acknowledge the truth of what happened to her.
My father comes from a background of severe poverty and neglect (physical and emotional), and while he was not outright abused, his childhood has left him with some very deep and very noticeable effects. (Think of those little monkeys who were made to think wire mannequins were their mothers, and that’s kind of what my father went through.) My mother would seem like a very “normal,” happy person to you if you were to meet her, but it’s immediately evident that my father is a little strange, probably because he never developed any real attachment to anyone until he was an adult (and that “anyone” was my mother). When my brother and I were children, he made no effort to communicate with us, and my mother eventually divorced him because he didn’t really pay any attention to her, either. He and I developed a relationship after their divorce, after he let some of those monstrously thick walls down, and he’s only starting (in his 60s!) to have friends now. (It’s actually kind of cute – he’ll call me up and tell me what he and his friends did over the weekend, and it’s really nice to hear him connecting to people.)
So I guess in answer to the OP’s question, from my experience, it seems that if you are severely abused and don’t actively try to find healing, you will not just “get over it”. I’d like to banish that phrase from our collective vocabulary.
Unfortunately, where there has been sever abuse, therapy just isn’t a detached chitchat. The receiving end of abuse is emotional painful, and most people have had to suppress the emotions as a survival mechanism.
To some degree, and I’m not a therapist so I only talk from the my experience and that of others I talked to or read about, it’s necessary to revisit some of the pain in order to become free from it.
I remember some sessions which were emotionally exhausting, as it I had run an emotional marathon during the 45 minutes. Revisiting the pain, the fears and the memories in order to understand them and remove their power over you.
I guess it’s possible for people to come to peace and overcome the “bad connections” on their own, but for sever abuse, healthy defenses which other people have learned along the way often are missing or unlearned. This is one of the best benefits of CBT, and was tremendously useful for me.
It can be too painful for many people, and unfortunately too many people do identify with their pain.
My mother grew up in a really screwed up family, and she still wont face many of her demons. She loses out in the self-proclaimed victim department to a younger sister, who at almost 70 still keeps tight hold to her misfortunes, seemingly as a way of avoiding personal responsibility.
It’s easy to be a victim. Terrible things happened to you. It hurts. The problem is when people do not take the necessary steps to release the hurt and break the connections between the fears from the past and the present activities and emotions.
These people see themselves as Victims and act as if they don’t have the ability to change their circumstances or self. In doing so, they shift their burden on those around, depending on friends or family to “protect” them. Not a few rely on guilt and other manipulative, controlling behavior to continuously receive the special treatment.
This shifting of the burden is what gives Victims their bad reputation.
Worse are those who also use their supposed inability to change to directly hurt others, becoming abusers themselves. Certainly my father and brother fall in this category, both of whom blamed their pasts for their lack of control.
The good news, though, is as my counselor would remind me, is the resilience of the human soul. It is possible to have been abused but to choose not to harm others.
Excellent post. I can tell you’re going to be such a great father. 
There have been times I’ve struggled rather significantly from the stuff in my past, and a lot of it had to do with not being willing to take personal responsibility for my relationships and actions in the present–that’s not an easy lesson to learn. But even in my darkest hour, I remained committed not to hurt other people, even when I was really suffering at least I had the victory of not becoming bitter and angry and abusive myself.
I’m not saying I never get angry – of course that’s natural – but when you live out your anger on a daily basis and never let go of it, you become defined by it. It watched it happen to my parents and I didn’t want it to happen to me. What an amazing opportunity, to know suffering and be able to use it to have compassion for others going through the same thing, to have compassion for all suffering of all kinds and recognize it for the universal phenomena that it is.
Personally, in the therapist’s office I can report the circumstances and events of my life without feeling much at all. I only once ever cried in therapy, and it was the day I was admitted to the hospital.
It’s weird when the emotion chooses to come out. After participating in this thread I sat down with my husband to talk about it, and he practically had to pull the words out of me. To be frank, I was ashamed to tell him that those experiences were painful.
But afterward I felt better. And I hugged him and I said, with more joy than I can put into words, ‘‘I am SO grateful that we have this sacred space, that we have the opportunity to build a family that’s healthy and loving.’’ It just seemed like this amazing thing, to realize that wherever I was growing up, I’m not there anymore–that I am the one in control now, that I and my husband are the ones who shape the events in our lives, and our household will be safe as long as we remain committed to the love and compassion and willingness to change unhealthy behaviors and always improve. That’s just so wonderful.
And I’m so glad your kid is going to be safe and loved. What a great victory for you and for all of us.
Fear. Wow.
TMI alert – do not read if you don’t want to know things about me.
I have no fear anymore. I’m not afraid of dying, I’m not afraid of doing the wrong thing. I envy those of you who have that fear. Fear is healthy. Fear would have kept me out of a lot of things I did in my past.
I even remember the night I lost my fear. My mother had decided it would be funny to let me wear her lingerie. It was silky and pretty and I was 5, so I loved it. My father found it to be exceedingly offensive. He told me to take it off, and as any 5 year old with permission, I tried to argue with him. He threw me across the room, and I hit my head. I started crying and was told by my mother to “just shut up, you deserved that.” My father decided he’d just had it with me and put a pillow over my face to shut me up, while my mother laughed. I remember thinking “at least when I am dead <child molester> can’t touch me anymore” as I lost consciousness. I never had fear after I woke up from that. Although I will admit that the worst way to die (in my opinion) would be suffocation – the panic is hard to break through.
TMI over.
I think you’ll understand what I mean by this (most who grew up with semi-normal parents don’t get it) but in a weird way I am so glad my abuse was more along the seductive lines (well as seductive as you can be with a 2 yr old). I had none of that fear, none of that kind of horror. I was treated as the wife even at that age, and in all ways.
And so from a distance (because you might not want one), I offer a hug.
Thanks. See, the funny thing is, when I say I am past my childhood, I mean it. I still have some lingering issues (lack of fear being one) but those are a part of who/what I am, and do not affect me or keep me from being “normal.”
I don’t talk about the things that happened to me because I loathe the whole “oh my gosh, you poor thing” reaction that people have. It’s a gut-reaction thing. I have it too when I read about kids who undergo severe abuses. It is sickening to realise that there are people who do those kinds of things to other people, but it happens. I just don’t like being a “victim,” so information about the various abuses (and mine ran the gamut) inflicted on me is doled out on a need-to-know basis – if it is relevant to the conversation/situation at hand, then I might mention it, otherwise not.
Of course, another part of why I keep the majority of the information to myself is (and those others who lived through abuse will understand this part) people tend to disbelieve you. For example – when my mother blinded me, I knew it was a bad injury, and I was done with lying and covering for her. When my teacher asked me what happened to my eye, why it was bloody and bruised, I told her “my mother punched me for not washing the dishes a specific way.” She just gave me that look and walked away. What good does it do to tell people the truth when they don’t want to hear it?
Word. My school counselor basically told me, ‘‘Please don’t tell me anything I have to report to social services.’’ And that reception was positively warm and embracing compared to the way my family reacted. I used to have serious boundary issues about my experiences and would tell anyone who would listen… possibly out of desperation since the people who should have listened, didn’t. I now have a whole slew of new friends who have no idea about my past, and I like it just fine that way. The thing that sucks the most is the stigma. The underlying implication is that you must be exaggerating or you must have done something to deserve it. I guess it’s just hard to comprehend the way abuse happens.
And I’ve said it before, but it’s not a black and white issue. My mother was an overwhelmed single parent who had been betrayed and survived multiple traumas. I always felt like I had to protect her. I’ve always understood exactly why she does the things she does. I know her heart. She did the best she could. She just didn’t know how to change.
Yep, I almost never mention my past because first of all it’s over, and second I am most definitely not a victim. I was when it happened but I am no longer.
And again, yes exactly this. Even my own mother–who was not married to my father when most things occurred and who had no problems believing the neglect my brother suffered at our father’s hands–did not believe me. Her exact words were “I believe you believe something happened.” :rolleyes: Um ok yes I guess I do have a future in fiction writing!
I also tended to normalize everything in that I assumed ALL families were like that. I didn’t realize otherwise until years later when I was telling what I thought was an amusing story from my childhood to my best friend–only she was in tears because it wasn’t funny, it was horrific. I just didn’t know.
What’s carried over into adulthood for me is low self-esteem, constantly second guessing myself, difficulty trusting people and an absolute terror of making mistakes. I’m learning to let go of those things, but it’s not easy.
A few people have had a huge impact on my life over the last few years and have, whether knowingly or not, helped me start to get over some of these things. The first time I realized that people like being around me and don’t just tolerate me was about two years ago. I was 36 then.
The lack of trust and low self-esteem did a lot of damage in my marriage. My husband had serious anger issues for many years, which prompted me to leave when the perception shift started (“I deserve better. I deserve to be happy. I’m not stupid and incompetent.”). He’s put a lot of effort into changing and I’m back with him now. And where I felt guilty at one time about all the changes he’s made, I finally figured out that he’s doing it because he loves me and wants to make me as happy as I deserve to be. And (see above) he enjoys being with me.
The fear of making mistakes is the hardest to overcome. I work in a creative industry and I’m a business owner, so I end up putting enormous amounts of pressure on myself. My business partner is constantly reminding me to ease up on myself and not try to be perfect at all times. It’s OK to get the wrong answer, he says, it’s all part of the process.
So it’s an ongoing thing, but I’ve started to see my worth as a person and find my voice. I don’t let people do hurtful things anymore without speaking up about it. And even though the automatic reaction is to think that people don’t like me, I remind myself that it’s not true and dive into whatever social situation I was avoiding.
Normal? Definitely not. But I can function, I’ve found happiness and I no longer think of myself as worthless. Or even as a victim.
I agree that each case is unique. Certainly there are cases with extreme abuse leading to a fairly normal adulthood and also cases where a perfectly normal childhood results in a totally fucked up adult. You’ve already written the “sequel” but if you hadn’t already you’d have several competing options:
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write a messed up story because let’s face it for whatever reason negative outcomes seem more “realistic”
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write a story of redemption showing that one can overcome the abuse - maybe the person will start out in a bad situation like drug or spousal abuse but learn to overcome this - maybe less realistic seeming, but it’s a worthy goal of some stories to create hope and uplift the reader
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some people just get over it or block it out effectively, you may find this idea intriguing and want to explore it
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whatever plot you have in mind may have it’s own driving forces such that servicing that story will take precedence over and decide the outcome of the survivor of abuse
What I found interesting a few years ago when reading about people overcoming tragedy of various kinds, including Holocaust survivors was the new debate in the psychology community about whether it’s ultimately more helpful to the survivor in the long term to have them confront their experience and try to work through it, or to give them the skills to compartmentalize it and distance themselves from it and just move on to the next stage of their life. There’s probably been some research done in the meantime, but I’m not sure where things stand now on that debate.