Family Illusions

You're so stupid!  You're so ghetto!  You're a bad mother!  You're bipolar!  You're crazy!  You're still poor!  You're evil!  You're so filthy and dirty!  Every time you come around you bring your problems and your drama!  You're always right!  You don't listen to anybody! 

I wish I could say that I'm in this situation, or was a victim, because I grew up in a violent home, that I was molested or physically abused by a family member, that I came from a single parent home, that I grew up on welfare, and that I have no education. I wish I could show everyone that I match the statistics that lie in their afterthoughts, or whatever they think about women that have been in domestic violence.

The truth is, I grew up in an average sized family. My parents were and are hard-working middle class Americans. They provided every material thing I could ever need. I grew up in the suburbs and went to excellent schools. We traveled all across the United States. I got a piano for Christmas. We lived the American dream unlike the former lives of my parents, who did grow up in poverty.

Only now, looking back, do I completely acknowledge that my family was dysfunctional in another sense. Communication and emotion. My mother was very strong and my father seemed rather passive. I knew if I wanted something, I'd ask my dad. But if he asked me to ask my mom, the answer would be no. They would toss me back and forth like this.

There were no displays of affection between them, and thus none between them and me as I grew older. I was the firstborn child and they were the scared parents, so we lived most of my teenage life in a constant battle for trust and freedom. Neither of which I ever received. Therefore, I took my freedom, and continuously lost their trust.

Nothing I would do was right, or good enough--good behavior, good grades, school activities, awards...And although I wasn't an approval-seeking child, my parents never approved of anything I did, or wanted to do. In hindsight, this was an emotionally and psychologically abusive household. And I left it as soon as I could--headed straight for disaster.

I've been back in the family house for almost a year now. Nothing has changed. I know, without a doubt, why I "escaped" before, and I feel like running again now. Living here has been one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life.

The sentences at the beginning of this entry, were things that my mother "allowed" my sister say to me last night during an argument which was bound to erupt due to the tension in the household. I say allowed because my mother did not defend me, nor ask my sister to correctly cite her accusations. Even if the statements are true, what gives anyone the right to be so judgmental, especially when they have not seen the things that I have seen or been through even the remotest of my life's events?

I refuse to defend myself against my own family. My energies are diverted elsewhere and this is the first time in my life that I have felt so focused and empowered.

“We can never judge the lives of others, because each person knows only their own pain and renunciation. It's one thing to feel that you are on the right path, but it's another to think that yours is the only path.”~Paulo Coelho

0 advocates for peace: