Where Do Bullies Come From?
I don’t write about my experiences with bullying very often. Maybe I have internalized society’s beliefs that I should have stood up for myself in middle and high school, especially when my peers were doing the bullying. Maybe the shame is more significant because this time, the abusers were my age. Maybe the messages about “asking for it” are still driving my interpretation of the situation. Sometimes it is even hard for me to believe that I could be subjected to so much cruelty by so many heartless people. I felt as though I was a magnet for abuse.
To be fair, I believe that everyone experiences some bullying. Everyone is called names. Everyone has at least one friend who talks behind their back, whether they know it or not. Most experience boundary invasions from pushing, shoving and other physical experiences that seem harmless to school children. I certainly experienced this.
Many bullies stop there. Why? The victim stands up for themselves. They say “no”. They get angry. They stop speaking to the “friend” who is mistreating them. They tell their parents or teachers. These are all perfectly acceptable answers to bullying. And most of the time, the bully moves on. It is too much trouble to target that kid. read more…
My Life is Not My Own
I was raised by narcissists. That probably doesn’t come as a surprise. As a child, my life never belonged to me. There was no autonomy. There were no choices at all. For illustrative purposes, I will cover some of the highlights of my relationship with my parents.
I lived with a mother and a father. With two parents, the abuse was easier. Even though I had a sister, they teamed up on me when I was alone. Their tactic was to keep the balance tipped in their favor.
They were prone to frequent emotional outbursts. Rage was common. Tears were only used for manipulative purposes.
They had no interest in my needs or wants. There was no ability to listen because they were talking constantly.
Their own self-interest was always the priority.
They would disrupt my sleep schedule to have their needs met.
They would disrupt my eating schedule to have their needs met.
They had no boundaries of any kind.
There was no accurate concept of right or wrong within the walls of our house.
In every sense, my life wasn’t my own. read more…
Making Truth a Priority
After writing publicly for more than a year, I received the first blog comment that attempted to deny the truth of my story. I have never received these comments because I am telling the truth and truth is easy to spot. Survivors know it. Clinicians know it. Everyone knows it. And honestly, why would I make this up. Why would I leave my entire extended family, raise my children without any familial support and write for hours each week for no pay? If I wanted attention, there are millions of more pleasant approaches I could take. I am a good writer. I could write a parenting book. And I have always wanted to work on my singing voice. I would love to win a Nobel Peace Prize too. If I wanted revenge, what would I want revenge for? Abuse?
When I first read the comment, I was a little confused. The commenter claimed to have a Ph.D, but they were making uneducated statements. And why would they care enough to take the time to write a comment denying my understanding of my abuse? Why would they care? And if they cared so much, why did they leave an email address that was fake? And why would they make up a name like Georgia England? And why do their comments sound exactly like my own family’s denial of my abuse?
Word for word …
Oh … wait …
Because it IS my family. read more…
Who Do You Want Me to Be?
Sometimes I receive emails from acquaintances I knew in my early years. They usually start by expressing their deep concern for me and what I went through. Each message like this is healing because validation and concern for my situation was something I desperately needed as a child. But their next questions are more challenging. “Should I have known?” “How did I miss the signs?” The answer has always eluded me. I really have no response.
I know I was an extremely anxious teenager and young adult. Even when my children were toddlers, I remember having panic attacks. Anyone who was paying attention would have noticed I was anxious. However, most people aren’t paying attention. That is why this work is sometimes referred to as “building awareness”. In addition, there are so many anxious people in the world. And in high school, I am sure I behaved like the average teen.
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What Do Teenagers Want?
After a childhood of severe abuse, I am a walking web of defense mechanisms. The most destructive mechanisms were developed when I was a younger child. Because of their devastating impact on my adult life, it was absolutely critical that I identify and work with these defenses. The most notable defense was the dissociative response which manifested as memory repression. From the point of repression, my unconscious past ruled my life. And it was as disastrous as it sounds.
I also learned some other helpful tips as a child. I learned to hide who I really am and what I really want. I learned to meet the needs of others while ignoring my own needs. I learned to ignore all feelings. Emotions were definitely a problem in my childhood. I numbed out. It was the safest and best response to an abusive childhood from which I had no escape.
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Back to the Basics
There is a problem with the human experience. We don’t have a point of reference. We have only known one reality. And that one reality may not be the best way to live a life. I am finding that despite all of my efforts to recover, and the progress I have made, I still have some habits that aren’t healthy. They aren’t conscious habits. In fact, I didn’t know they were a problem. But lately, I am starting to realize that I need to make changes … fundamental changes to the way I live.
First, I have to start breathing. I know that sounds a little crazy. I rarely think about it. I don’t think many people do. But I don’t breathe … not really anyway. I probably use about 10% of my lung capacity. I know there are several reasons for this. When I was a colicky baby, my father would suffocate me to stop my crying. I was also strangled a few times during my childhood. As a defense mechanism, I learned to take in as little air as possible. As a child, it seemed like a good way to stay alive. If I am not breathing, but still living, nobody can hurt me by taking away my ability to breathe. It seemed reasonable. read more…
The Healing Power of Sharing
When I first started recovering memories from my abusive childhood, I had no idea what to do with them. I felt like they were stuck somewhere inside of my body and that’s where they would stay. I started journaling my memories and found it to be very helpful, but I still felt like something was missing from my healing journey. I would visit my therapist, look her in the eyes, and tell her that something was very bad. But I could not say what happened. I could not verbally recount the events of the memory to another person … even a person I trusted.
It was as though a lifetime of shame was stopping my words. They were stuck in my throat and I could not get them out.
But there was something else stopping me besides the shame. I was absolutely convinced that nobody would believe me. As a child, I was told by my family that nobody would ever believe me. This wasn’t a suggestion. It was repeated thousands of times. It was brainwashing. And I had no reason to doubt it. read more…
The Failing of Single Parents
When Jared Leto won an Oscar last night, I don’t think anyone was shocked. However, his undeniably beautiful dedication to his single mother may have been surprising to some. Why? In our society, we have a habit of focusing on the damage that single-parented households are causing. Research has been published that links single mothers to juvenile delinquency and lack of education. Many articles state that single-parented households are the problem with the world today.
It is true that single parents are under-resourced. Single-parented households struggle with supporting family activities on one income. Similarly, families with a stay-at-home parent also struggle with one income. However, there is a difference. They have free childcare because someone is staying at home. Even in the case of military families, there is an income for the family even when there is a parent missing from the family. So, I get it. It is harder for a single parent. But we have to understand that the parent, who may have depleted resources, is not creating problems for us to clean up. read more…
The Mother That Never Was
I don’t write about my mother often. Of all my dysfunctional childhood relationships, my experience with my mother is the most painful. I believe that small children have a disproportionate need for the feminine nurturing energy. When it’s not available, I think the pain runs deeper. I am not suggesting that fathers are not needed. They are desperately needed. And their interactions with their children are critical to shaping that child’s future belief systems and relationships. But for me, the lack of nurturing maternal energy seemed to leave a deeper mark.
I think that some of my angst comes from my core belief that women should be protecting women. If we can’t count on each other, if we can’t come together to fight this battle against gender oppression, do we have a hope of moving society toward equality for all genders? Can we ask our male allies to do the work against gender oppression that we are not willing to do? read more…
Death Is Not The Only Choice
Photograph by Nicholas Kevin Corey (1971-2012)
February is not my favorite month … for many reasons. I don’t like the cold and snow unless I am skiing. And since I am not yet independently wealthy, I don’t ski for the entire month of February.
I don’t love Valentine’s Day. This is not because I am single. I have two mini-Valentines. I am just tired of love being defined by those who should not define it. Love was always twisted and manipulated in my family. And Valentine’s Day feels like another manipulation of what love is supposed to be.
February also happens to be the birthday month of many people from my past, most of whom I don’t want to remember. It tends to bring up the ghosts of childhood.
But there is one anniversary with more significance than the others. February is the month that my ex-husband committed suicide. So while everyone is thinking about love, I am thinking about death. I am thinking about the seemingly insurmountable pain that makes death seem less painful. I am not thinking about this because I don’t understand it. I am thinking about this because I do understand it. I understand it a little too well. I know that pain. I think all abuse and trafficking survivors know that pain. read more…
