September 23, 2009
Can You Fathom A Family?
Update: This post was written as a submission to this month's Family-Themed Edition of the Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse. It is up now over at Paul's blog, Mind Parts. If you haven't already visited, please do. And won't you please leave supportive comments for these brave bloggers participating? Thanks!
***
Whenever I speak of my "family" of origin, that's what I do: I put the word family in quotation marks. I don't consider myself as a person who had a family growing up.
Whenever there was some strife or "upset" at a holiday gathering or the "family" dinner table (which inevitably there almost always was), my mother liked to lament, "Can't we just be a family?" So surprised you have the nerve to even ask that question, dear old mom. But it's a good one. I don't know. Can we be a family? What makes for a family anyway?
What Is a Family? by Marj aka Thriver on Polyvore.com
Let's see. Do you make a family by getting Grandma to buy frilly, fancy clothes for your children and then parading them around to the homes of relatives to sit still and proper, with their mouths shut and their hands folded in their laps? Hhmmmm...I think that's called "keeping up appearances." No, that doesn't quite seem to be enough to cut it to me.
Maybe you make a strong family by neglecting to get proper medical treatment for your children when they are deathly ill or have been severely injured. Nope. Don't think that's it, either. How 'bout calling your child "bad, dirty and evil" after you allow their father to have sex with them? Nah! Don't think so. Prostituting your daughters out to other men? That definitely doesn't work. I know! Claiming a child as a dependent on your taxes after they've been working to earn their own money since they were 11 years old and completely on their own (so they can't file their own income tax)! No, that doesn't define a family either.
Do I sound angry? I hope so! You may have noticed--if you've been reading my blog for a while--that I was able to sneak in a new detail there that is quite heinous. It's something I've been working my butt off on in therapy lately. I'm quite motivated to resolve this hideous, new area of retrieved memories so that maybe, some day, I can relax during the fall months and not freak out in dissociative dysfunction every year. Yeah, I deserve to feel my feelings of anger. I never deserved to be treated this way as a helpless, innocent child.
Do I sound sad? Probably so. I am doing a lot of necessary grieving. I certainly grieve over the childhood and the family I never had.
But, I am also happy and rather proud that I have the chance--and I am taking it--to break the multi-generational cycle of abuse. I can end the legacy I was born into. I've been able to create my own family with my husband and my beloved son.
I am not like my own parents who, at best, saw children as a bother and a burden. I can remember it like it was, literally, yesterday: The day I brought my tiny bundle of joy home from the hospital was one of the happiest days of my life. I don't remember being any more elated on any day before or since that time. It was a time of pure joy that I was able to claim because of my commitment to break the cycle of child abuse.
Has it been easy--trying to fathom a family and forming one--with no positive role models of my own to follow? No, it hasn't been easy. I would be lying to you if I said it was. All three of the members of this family are in therapy. I don't think there's any other way, when the person in the mother role has a severe dissociative disorder.
But, we are facing our issues and challenges, not just keeping up appearances. We love each other and we strive every day to show it and to keep our family communication open. My son will be 13 on his next birthday. But, he still asks me for hugs. The insightful bugger even said to me, just the other day: "You've made great progress on your disability. I'm proud of you, Mom." My heart swells. Yes, we are a family. I get to say that because of the commitment I made even before my child was conceived. We get to claim that because of the love we share, the words we use, and the action we take to be a family.
***
Whenever I speak of my "family" of origin, that's what I do: I put the word family in quotation marks. I don't consider myself as a person who had a family growing up.
Whenever there was some strife or "upset" at a holiday gathering or the "family" dinner table (which inevitably there almost always was), my mother liked to lament, "Can't we just be a family?" So surprised you have the nerve to even ask that question, dear old mom. But it's a good one. I don't know. Can we be a family? What makes for a family anyway?
What Is a Family? by Marj aka Thriver on Polyvore.com
Let's see. Do you make a family by getting Grandma to buy frilly, fancy clothes for your children and then parading them around to the homes of relatives to sit still and proper, with their mouths shut and their hands folded in their laps? Hhmmmm...I think that's called "keeping up appearances." No, that doesn't quite seem to be enough to cut it to me.
Maybe you make a strong family by neglecting to get proper medical treatment for your children when they are deathly ill or have been severely injured. Nope. Don't think that's it, either. How 'bout calling your child "bad, dirty and evil" after you allow their father to have sex with them? Nah! Don't think so. Prostituting your daughters out to other men? That definitely doesn't work. I know! Claiming a child as a dependent on your taxes after they've been working to earn their own money since they were 11 years old and completely on their own (so they can't file their own income tax)! No, that doesn't define a family either.
Do I sound angry? I hope so! You may have noticed--if you've been reading my blog for a while--that I was able to sneak in a new detail there that is quite heinous. It's something I've been working my butt off on in therapy lately. I'm quite motivated to resolve this hideous, new area of retrieved memories so that maybe, some day, I can relax during the fall months and not freak out in dissociative dysfunction every year. Yeah, I deserve to feel my feelings of anger. I never deserved to be treated this way as a helpless, innocent child.
Do I sound sad? Probably so. I am doing a lot of necessary grieving. I certainly grieve over the childhood and the family I never had.
But, I am also happy and rather proud that I have the chance--and I am taking it--to break the multi-generational cycle of abuse. I can end the legacy I was born into. I've been able to create my own family with my husband and my beloved son.
I am not like my own parents who, at best, saw children as a bother and a burden. I can remember it like it was, literally, yesterday: The day I brought my tiny bundle of joy home from the hospital was one of the happiest days of my life. I don't remember being any more elated on any day before or since that time. It was a time of pure joy that I was able to claim because of my commitment to break the cycle of child abuse.
Has it been easy--trying to fathom a family and forming one--with no positive role models of my own to follow? No, it hasn't been easy. I would be lying to you if I said it was. All three of the members of this family are in therapy. I don't think there's any other way, when the person in the mother role has a severe dissociative disorder.
But, we are facing our issues and challenges, not just keeping up appearances. We love each other and we strive every day to show it and to keep our family communication open. My son will be 13 on his next birthday. But, he still asks me for hugs. The insightful bugger even said to me, just the other day: "You've made great progress on your disability. I'm proud of you, Mom." My heart swells. Yes, we are a family. I get to say that because of the commitment I made even before my child was conceived. We get to claim that because of the love we share, the words we use, and the action we take to be a family.
Labels: aftermath, anger, Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse, breaking the cycle, child abuse, dissociation, family of origin, grieving, memory work, therapy
February 10, 2009
Diggin' In The Dirt
Dealing with a lot of mucky guck these days. You know, I don't go looking for this crap--it usually sneaks up and bites me in the butt--but, I'm glad I now have my therapy shovel to help dig myself out when I need to.
I mentioned the Coach Creative Space ning/network a couple of posts back, right? Well there's a pretty active group of people writing poetry on there. There's even a group that writes haiku. I've only dabbled in this form of poetry. Since I'm a nature nut, it's a good fit for me. And the short form can be very powerful.
I wrote a poem a few days ago about digging dirt. You can take it either way: It's a poem about connecting to the earth through gardening; and/or It's a poem about "digging up" memories, etc. in the process of healing. I guess I'm still in the throes of the "both/and" of life.
Digging Dirt
I am digging dirt
the earth, it does connect me
scent of remembrance
Copyright 2009 Marj McCabe~All rights reserved.
I hadn't thought about it in a long while. But, this poem reminded me of a Peter Gabriel song. Back when I really started dealing with my child abuse--and my inner child--in therapy, I couldn't connect with any feelings I had about my abuse and about that little girl I used to be. I think her pain just scared me too much at first.
My therapist at the time wanted me to do some anger work. Me, angry? No way! I don't have feelings, right? Well, one of the ways I finally got in touch with some anger is to listen to music, especially music that had lyrics that spoke to me. I remember listening to lot of Sarah McLachlan at the time. And I would listen to Peter Gabriel's "Digging in the Dirt" over and over until I got in touch with that anger. I like the lyrics, "Digging in the dirt. To find the places we got hurt." Yeah.
I mentioned the Coach Creative Space ning/network a couple of posts back, right? Well there's a pretty active group of people writing poetry on there. There's even a group that writes haiku. I've only dabbled in this form of poetry. Since I'm a nature nut, it's a good fit for me. And the short form can be very powerful.
I wrote a poem a few days ago about digging dirt. You can take it either way: It's a poem about connecting to the earth through gardening; and/or It's a poem about "digging up" memories, etc. in the process of healing. I guess I'm still in the throes of the "both/and" of life.
Digging Dirt
I am digging dirt
the earth, it does connect me
scent of remembrance
Copyright 2009 Marj McCabe~All rights reserved.
I hadn't thought about it in a long while. But, this poem reminded me of a Peter Gabriel song. Back when I really started dealing with my child abuse--and my inner child--in therapy, I couldn't connect with any feelings I had about my abuse and about that little girl I used to be. I think her pain just scared me too much at first.
My therapist at the time wanted me to do some anger work. Me, angry? No way! I don't have feelings, right? Well, one of the ways I finally got in touch with some anger is to listen to music, especially music that had lyrics that spoke to me. I remember listening to lot of Sarah McLachlan at the time. And I would listen to Peter Gabriel's "Digging in the Dirt" over and over until I got in touch with that anger. I like the lyrics, "Digging in the dirt. To find the places we got hurt." Yeah.
Labels: anger, feelings, haiku, poem, Poetry, song lyrics, therapy
