March 18, 2011
Finally...The Final Blog Post
I thought about a few different things I would write for this post. Then, I had a little get together with a group of my friends that we sometimes call the "going deeper" group. It's a group of people that tend to have very little tolerance for idle chit chat and bullshit. We like to talk about "deep things." During our last get together, we drank wine and read each other our own obituaries that we had written for ourselves. Here is what mine said:
"The major accomplishment in the life of Marj McCabe was breaking the cycle of abuse. It was a cycle of child abuse--sometimes insidious, always heinous--that she was forced to inherit and had gone on for generations on both sides of her family of origin. Although this accomplishment took the excruciating work of therapy for much of her adult life, she never could have done it without the patience and love of her amazingly supportive husband. She never would have embarked on the perilous journey in the first place, had it not been for the immense love she felt for her own offspring. And while it never received the fanfare or recognition of other achievements having such great potential for positive impact on future generations, Marj could grasp its significance. And for her, it was enough."
Since writing that "obituary," I've thought a lot about just what is enough for me. One of the main reasons I started writing a blog is to find meaning for the abuse I suffered as a child. I'm not sure I've done that, but I have done a lot.
It was a very different world just five short years ago. Blogging was fairly new. When I first conducted a Google search with key words like"survivor," "thriver," "thrive," etc., I found very little out there. Most of the mentions about "survivor" were for the popular network television show of that name. Most of the results for "thrive" were for the insurance company who uses that word as a slogan in it's advertising campaigns. There was absolutely nothing when I looked up "thriver."
So, I got to take that name. I became Thriver. I used it on message boards and in forums, and I was the only one using that name when I first joined Twitter.
In the last five years, many more blogs and websites have started up about surviving and even thriving after child abuse, sexual abuse, sexual assault and rape, domestic violence, etc. Many books have been written on these important subjects. Many of us have been out there raising awareness and acting as advocates. There are some great advocates linked on Twitter, if you care to follow them as I do.
Now, when you google "survivor" or "survivors," you get results in the millions. The same is true for a search for "thrive." I'm happy to say that "survivors can thrive" brings back hundreds of thousands of result listings and even "thriver" will give you tens of thousands of results.
Another thing I've accomplished over the last five years was founding and growing The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse. In June of this year, it will also be celebrating a five-year anniversary. I feel really good about that. Although I no longer maintain the carnival, it is going strong. You can follow it by clicking on the many links on the handy blog carnival widget you see on my sidebar.
So, what I'm doing now (in addition to the ongoing, ever-present therapy work) is taking classes and working on my certificate in botanical illustration. You can read about this dream of mine which is coming true in these posts here and here.
Yes, I'm finally following a dream of mine that I first had when I was an art major in college, 30 years ago. And, yes, I'm moving on with my life.
I guess it finally doesn't matter whether or not I find some "hidden meaning" for my abuse. I guess I've decided that finding meaning in my LIFE is enough. Going on with my life (after evil people tried to break me) is enough. Living a full life is enough. Enjoying a life of meaning and fulfillment is enough. All these things are more than enough for me. And I'm okay with that.
Labels: abuse, advocacy, anniversary, awareness, Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse, breaking the cycle, child abuse, domestic violence, family of origin, healing, journey, survivors, therapy, thrive, Twitter
September 23, 2009
Can You Fathom 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
May 20, 2007
The Trauma Twins
When my sister first arrived from the deep south where she lives, it was surreal with my parts. There were Little Ones who were cheering, "Yay! Sissy is coming. We want to see Sissy!" When she actually showed up, their tune changed to, "Who's that lady? Where's Sissy?' I think they truly expected to see a cute little girl with blond pony tails at my door.
Then I had to deal with an older part who really hates my sister. She is slow to forgive the many times I covered up for my twin and often took the fall for her during her rebellious years. I thought I had dealt with this in therapy, but apparently this part still resents the years of being enmeshed and enabling with my sis. She's also jealous as hell that my twin had rebellious years during a time when I was still falling all over my selves trying to please my mother and gain her never-to-be-obtained approval.
I haven't seen my sis much for over ten years. A lot of old baggage has to be checked with this visit. I get annoyed when people say stuff like, "Stop living in the past. You have to be in the present." It's so obvious to me now that, for my parts, the past is the present. It's going to take quite a lot of time, patience and therapy to bring them all up to date.
One thing that has been encouraging, I guess, is that I have parts that feel safe enough to switch out (if that's what you call it) in front of my sister. I've done this many times in front of my husband, but I still try to hide it. With my sister, I not only allow it to happen, I also allow all the fears and tears to come tumbling out at the same time.
Let me give you an example: We were driving back from this nifty little mountain town toy store that I knew both our kid parts would love. We had a wonderful morning together, but I started to notice some physical symptoms sneaking in around lunch time. I had a headache (seems to happen with switching), my guts were rumbling and I had a return of the damn knot in my throat that strangles me and won't let food pass. We were driving back toward my home, taking a very familiar route along the interstate. I began to tell my twin about this pattern I've been noticing. The first part of the pattern is a few days when I act perfectly "normal." Me have parts? No way! Then--as if some parts are attempting to batten down the hatches--I have a day or two where I get physically sick and/or start to have some of the symptoms I just mentioned. Then: POW! All hell--and at least a couple of terrified, devastated and/or pissed off parts--breaks loose. It's a fun way to navigate through life, let me tell ya. Anybody else notice "parts patterns" like this?
Anyway, I'm just getting into telling Sissy about this pattern I've noticed when I discover that I've blown past my exit off the interstate. No problem, I think. I'll jut get off at the next exit. The only problem was I thought the "next exit" was an exit that is, in reality, miles and miles up the highway. Suddenly, nothing looked familiar at all. I tried to read exit signs, but recognized none of the street names. This scared me a lot and I began to panic and sob uncontrollably. Luckily, we were in a slow construction zone and I didn't crash the car. I still remembered how to drive as well, thank God.
Having a difficult morning. Too many nights of not sleeping well and my IBS is flared up worse than it's been in years. I think I'll finish this "twin visit" post later. Thinking of all of you and hoping to get more cauht up in the blogosphere soon.
Labels: dissociation, family of origin, trauma
December 06, 2006
An Inner Child's Grief and Loss
Right now, I'm between therapists and trying to continue, on my own, some of the trauma work that I learned about when I was down at the Ross Trauma Program in Dallas. They were big on writing letters down there. So far, I've found the letter exercises quite helpful, even if they are, usually, excruciatingly painful.
Right now, I'm in the middle of working on a handout called, "Grief and Loss Letter to Myself." I don't know where the Dallas folks got this handout, so I apologize for the lack of credit for this. Here are the sentence starters, or prompts, they gave us:
- I never understood why my parents...
- I needed someone to understand...
- If my tears could have talked they would have said...
- If my anger could have spoken it would have said...
- What I needed the most and never got was...
- What I need to hear now to feel loved is...
So far, I've worked on numbers one through three. Below is what I've got so far. Please be careful when reading this, there may be some triggers and, in the beginning, there is some swearing.
I never understood why my parents thought their kids were such a pain in the ass and a burden. I never understood why my parents treated me like I was no good and a piece of shit. I never understood why my parents even had children...just to have free servants? I never understood why my parents never showed any interest in or support for things I was good at and showed interest in. I never understood why my parents couldn't see my precious innocence, beauty, light, adorable cuteness, sweetness...or how hard I tried to be a good girl. I never understood why my parents couldn't tell how much I loved them. I never understood why my parents never thought anything I did was ever good enough, why I wasn't good enough. (I would love to have a kid like me!) I never understood why my parents always had to humiliate me. I never understood why my parents tried to break me. Why did they want me broken? Why would they want a broken daughter? I never understood why my parents couldn't see me for who I really was, separate from my twin.
I needed someone to understand that I was more than just a twin. I needed someone to understand how hard I was trying. I needed someone to understand how scared I was. I needed someone to understand how much pain I was in. I needed someone to understand that I had feelings and I needed to express them. I needed someone to understand that I was just a child and I needed love and protection. I needed someone to understand that I was innocent and it wasn't my fault. I needed someone to understand that I was just a kid and I needed time and space to be safe and just play and explore and be a kid. Just because I was good at taking care of everyone else didn't mean it was right. I needed someone to understand that I had lots of light and love in my heart and it shouldn't have been abused and destroyed. I needed someone to understand that I was really smart, but my self-esteem was low and I needed someone to believe in me and encourage me and support me instead of just squashing me down more and more.
If my tears could have talked they would have said, "I love you. Please don't hurt me." If my tears could have talked they would have said, "I'm a good girl. Quit treating me like I'm bad, dirty and evil." If my tears could have talked they would have said, "I hurt so bad I want to die. You're killing me!" If my tears could have talked they would have said, "I'm your daughter, quit breaking my heart and my spirit more and more every day." If my tears could have talked they would have said, "Mommy, Daddy, I'm your precious little Marji. I'm your hope for the future and your angel sent from heaven. Don't you remember? Don't you recognize me?" If my tears could have talked they would have said, "I'm a precious, adorable child. Don't you just want to hug me, caress my soft cheeks and cherish me? Why not?" If my tears could have talked they would have said, "I'm a divine, light-filled spirit, I came here so we could love each other and be one. Why are you trying to murder my soul?"
As you might imagine, the first three parts of this letter took a lot out of me. Next, I get to go on to ANGER! Yeah!
Labels: abandonment, bonding, broken, child abuse, dissociation, family of origin, grieving, inner child, therapy
