Do you really want to win the dysfunctional family contest?
Is anyone raising their hand for this one?
Yet how many of us have told countless stories of our crappy childhoods and how it has affected our lives.
I'm sure we all earned “points” on the dysfunctional scoreboard.
What is important now is to let it all go.
What purpose does holding onto your dysfunctional past serve?
Are you using it as an excuse to explain why and who you are today?
Did you catch that key word? "excuse"...
Yes our childhood does define part of who we are, but do we need to cling to the bad parts?
If you feel you need to, than can you explain why?
Go ahead, make a list.
Did it take much effort to write it down, how did putting it on paper make you feel?
Did it validate your anger, your guilt, did you enjoy reliving the personal, emotional and physical pain?
Can you see and feel that by holding onto all the negative feelings of the past, and probably the present, how much power it has over you.
It is time to let go of the hurt and angst. Really, just let it go, piece by piece.
And as you release the dark past look at the light ahead.
How did those experiences make you stronger, that is how to find the positive in a negative situation.
I’ll give a brief rundown of my childhood, it wasn’t pretty but it was not the worse that could have happened to a child, I am after all still alive to tell my tale.
It is not my intent for anyone to think "poor Susan", that is not what I want from you.
I want you to see that we can all rise up from our own personal abyss.
As I mentioned in a prior blog, there is no doubt that I was born into the wrong family, by my choice of course, to learn several lessons. The main lesson of course being to love myself, as well as patience, humor, humility, self preservation, hmmm I could go on and on.
My parents were both German immigrants, they both experienced World War II as children.
Ironically they met each other in New York City at a German festival/Schutzenfest. It gets kind of sketchy
but my guess is I was conceived on St. Patrick’s Day, they married in May and I was born 7 months later. No need to do the math. I think that alone was the majority of the anger my father carried with him, he was trapped into marrying my mother. I was born in Germany, my father was in the Air Force and stationed in Germany, so my mother went home and stayed with her parents. At around 1 ½ we were back in the USA and my brother was born shortly after. Somewhere around the time I was in 1st or 2nd grade my half sister came from Germany to live with us. Needless to say that was a shock, I had an older, by 5 yrs, half sister. Based on pictures I had met my sister before but was too young to remember her. That would be another story to tell.
That sums my family circle, with that brief early history out of the way, I'll move on…...
It was not easy living in the USA with American ideals and immigrant parents.
Great example: Saturdays were for chores not H.S football games and playing with friends.
My father was an alcoholic, he was a mean, ugly drunk. My mother was a teetotaler. I vividly remember my parents fighting all the time, mother and us kids being kicked out of the apartment in the middle of the night. Hiding in the scary basement and me being the one to go upstairs to ask if we could please come up and my being knocked down the stairs. I was beaten more times than I could ever count, belts, wooden spoons, tree branches, bare hand or whatever was handy. I seemed to be the main target but that was okay because I knew I could take it both physically and mentally.
I was and still am an avid reader. I taught myself to read and went right into first grade, skipping ktgn.
My father would actually yell at me for reading too much.
When my father was angry, which was 90% of the time, I would do my best to make him laugh, sometimes it worked, most times it backfired.
We did take summer vacations. While we were on the road I would look in other cars and daydream about one of those families adopting me to save me from my own family.
At 5, I was molested by a neighbor in the apartment building, he just touched me. I do remember my father being very angry and confronting him but no one ever talked to me about it.
At around age seven I almost drowned, my father had to jump into the pool to save me. I remember drowning, I also remember my father complaining about getting his clothes and wallet wet as he hung them all up to dry. I don’t remember anyone being happy that I was okay.
I’ll jump forward to age 13 or this would turn into a novel, this point in my life was key to how I moved through life for the next 30 years. At age 13, I was raped, it was a planned attack by people who I thought were friends. It was done in front of a group of people, they had burned my underwear with a candle, I was totally humiliated. Afterwards, I gathered my clothes and walked home. When I got home I told my mother what had happened, her questions were “did I lose my virginity and was it my fault?” She called the primary abuser the next day and he of course denied it. Granted they were not the right kind of people for me to be hanging around at age 13 but that did not give them the right to hurt me. And who those “friends” were was not a valid excuse for my parents to use for what happened to me.
So it turned from my being raped, clothes burnt etc ,to being my fault and to top it off my father beat the crap out of me. That was the last straw with the beatings, I told him if he ever hit me again I would turn him in. I had bruises all over my body and there was no hiding them. As for my mother, my hatred for her took over all reasoning. I was emotionally lost.
I turned my pain inward and started cutting myself, it was the only relief I had for years.
I propelled myself forward by holding onto what I loved and was good at, I loved animals, I was a pretty good artist ,a very good athlete and student. When I graduated from high school I picked a college seven hours and two states away. There was no looking back, I was free from the physical bond.
I knew from early on that I was special and I hung onto that with all my being.
Fast forward 30 plus years and here I am at age 51. I am a very well adjusted, self confident, compassionate woman. I also consider myself a great parent. I love my children, have supported them in all they do and tell them I love them every chance I get.
I have a passion for animals, I have 8 pets, I volunteer Sundays at a sanctuary and I am still a pretty good athlete.
I have learned my lessons in this life the hard way. Knowing that I chose this life to learn those lessons
has made it easier for me to accept and to let go.
By the way, when I left for college my father apologized to me and I forgave him for everything.
It was not an easy thing for him to do but with my leaving and going so far away, he realized it was something he needed to do whether he understood the reason or not.
My mother has yet to ever say anything to me, and I have learned to accept her for who she is because she will never change, it would take a miracle (and another lifetime).
To let go I was able to release the hate I felt for her, it no longer ruled my life and that was an awesome step forward.
So, by telling a part of my life I am hoping that you, the reader can understand that it can be done.
You can release the negative experiences. It won’t happen overnight, but a baby step forward is still a step forward. I wish you much love and light and a big hug on your journey.
You can do it, believe in yourself and you can accomplish anything.
