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Family of Origin
Did I give birth to an unicorn? Or three easy steps to become a guru
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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 664725" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>It has helped us Suzir, to learn to see ~ to fight to see, really, our abusers abusing us through our own eyes. It's a question of perspective, and it changes everything to be able to do that. Before we went through the traumatic things I have posted happened to me, I saw the event ~ the beating of myself or, even worse, of a sibling ~ through the self-justifying eyes of the abuser. I was a small thing, a shamed and shame-filled thing; a non-entity, utterly powerless.</p><p></p><p>Yet, I needed to love my abusive, outrageously wrong mother. And I needed to hate her too, for what she was doing, for who she was instead of who I needed her to be.</p><p></p><p>I was just a little girl. I could not have made that intuitive leap required to heal, then. I had no frame of reference, no way at all to know that what was happening to all of us was wrong. Until I went back, until I could feel outrage for the child I was at what was done to her, in her innocence and in her puzzled attempt to make sense of things, I could see the abusive incidents only through that child's eyes. </p><p></p><p>And that child believed her mother had been right, to do those terrible things she did.</p><p></p><p>All of it, everything that happened, things I can remember and things I cannot, all of it, covered in such a thick layer of shame that even to approach it could, and did, leave me feeling physically ill <em>to this day.</em></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Well, here is what I have to say about that. Every parent here on this site is here for children who are in deep, deep trouble. And we love them. And we see their struggles and would do anything at all to help them. And, until we learn how it is that to enable hurts all of us, and until we finally, finally learn to stop blaming ourselves, we do blame ourselves.</p><p></p><p>Abusive parents fault the kids; never themselves, ever.</p><p></p><p>I think this could be true: Parents who hurt, who are explicitly mean to their own children, however they justify it...they mean to do the harm they do. In my case, when I began to look beyond the specific traumatic events I could never forget, not in all of my life, I found trauma in all its shades and colors, all of it having to do with rejection, and with the threat of abandonment; all of it, every bit of it, having to do with power-over mentality on the part of the parent, to the point that the parent sabotages relationship among the siblings even after the parent's death.</p><p></p><p>And, at least in my case, the the abusive parent's efforts escalate after the death of the father. Or, and Serenity or Copa could post in on this maybe, after the dissolution of the parents' marriage. </p><p></p><p>That is what I see in my family of origin. For now, that is what I see, there.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Good. I am glad you have done that.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>My mom loves me too I think, SuZir. It's just that the nature of her loving is hurtful.</p><p></p><p>And when I took a close look at all of it, the whole thing fell apart.</p><p></p><p>And when I broadened the scope of my inquiry, I saw those same patterns for my mother in all her relationships that I am aware of.</p><p></p><p>It was never me, personally, me.</p><p></p><p>It was that I had been brought up in a family where everything just rings wrong.</p><p></p><p>Before I could see and grieve it, I needed to imagine what it would have meant for me to have been raised differently. Then, I could see what I ~ how to provide, for myself, what I had never been given. It wasn't just a question of naming the traumatic things. It was even more a matter of knowing what it was I should legitimately have been surrounded with, as I grew. </p><p></p><p>I found compassion for that little girl I had been. And with that, I could love and accept and fight for her. It was a hard thing, to claim that right from the mother I carried around in my head. That mother, that internal parent, believes to this day that my mother knows, and is correct, absolutely correct, in how she sees who I am.</p><p></p><p>My real mother believes to this day.</p><p></p><p>That is why she could draw back her arm and pretend she would strike me when I came to visit her with my granddaughters. My mother was enforcing her reality.</p><p></p><p>My mother was around eighty years old when she did that.</p><p></p><p>I was around sixty years old.</p><p></p><p>Isn't that something.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I have posted about the time when my father betrayed me to support my mother's decision to ~ I don't know what she was doing. The upshot was that we did not speak for five years. Never before had I felt from my father anything but steady; reliable, funny, bright. Wise, very wise.</p><p></p><p>My mother runs hot and cold.</p><p></p><p>It is who she is. To me now, this is a very sharp weapon in her repertoire. Very sharp. It is like when we are training a new puppy. If we reinforce what we want and never blow hot and cold regarding his training, our puppy will know what is expected and happily comply. If we sporadically reinforce changing expectations, he won't know what it is we want.</p><p></p><p>Then, we say he is a bad little puppy.</p><p></p><p>He thinks so, too.</p><p></p><p>But he never quite knows why.</p><p></p><p>And for me, in my case only, that is why my mom does that.</p><p></p><p>And she does it to this very day.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>This is true.</p><p></p><p>To see what they do does not mean we don't love them. It is simply that we open our own eyes and not see anymore, through theirs.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>He does love you, then. Maybe for you then, the task is to separate out those parts that leave you questioning his reasoning and ask him how he sees what he has done. It could be that he is forgetting the power a father holds in how a daughter, whatever her age, feels about herself.</p><p></p><p>He may think you are very strong; frightening, in a way. That could explain what is happening. Your writing reflects strength and clarity. You have held your ground without question here on the site more than once. It could be that you intimidate your father just a little.</p><p></p><p>Do you think that could be the energy swirling through the heart of this?</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 664725, member: 17461"] It has helped us Suzir, to learn to see ~ to fight to see, really, our abusers abusing us through our own eyes. It's a question of perspective, and it changes everything to be able to do that. Before we went through the traumatic things I have posted happened to me, I saw the event ~ the beating of myself or, even worse, of a sibling ~ through the self-justifying eyes of the abuser. I was a small thing, a shamed and shame-filled thing; a non-entity, utterly powerless. Yet, I needed to love my abusive, outrageously wrong mother. And I needed to hate her too, for what she was doing, for who she was instead of who I needed her to be. I was just a little girl. I could not have made that intuitive leap required to heal, then. I had no frame of reference, no way at all to know that what was happening to all of us was wrong. Until I went back, until I could feel outrage for the child I was at what was done to her, in her innocence and in her puzzled attempt to make sense of things, I could see the abusive incidents only through that child's eyes. And that child believed her mother had been right, to do those terrible things she did. All of it, everything that happened, things I can remember and things I cannot, all of it, covered in such a thick layer of shame that even to approach it could, and did, leave me feeling physically ill [I]to this day.[/I] Well, here is what I have to say about that. Every parent here on this site is here for children who are in deep, deep trouble. And we love them. And we see their struggles and would do anything at all to help them. And, until we learn how it is that to enable hurts all of us, and until we finally, finally learn to stop blaming ourselves, we do blame ourselves. Abusive parents fault the kids; never themselves, ever. I think this could be true: Parents who hurt, who are explicitly mean to their own children, however they justify it...they mean to do the harm they do. In my case, when I began to look beyond the specific traumatic events I could never forget, not in all of my life, I found trauma in all its shades and colors, all of it having to do with rejection, and with the threat of abandonment; all of it, every bit of it, having to do with power-over mentality on the part of the parent, to the point that the parent sabotages relationship among the siblings even after the parent's death. And, at least in my case, the the abusive parent's efforts escalate after the death of the father. Or, and Serenity or Copa could post in on this maybe, after the dissolution of the parents' marriage. That is what I see in my family of origin. For now, that is what I see, there. Good. I am glad you have done that. My mom loves me too I think, SuZir. It's just that the nature of her loving is hurtful. And when I took a close look at all of it, the whole thing fell apart. And when I broadened the scope of my inquiry, I saw those same patterns for my mother in all her relationships that I am aware of. It was never me, personally, me. It was that I had been brought up in a family where everything just rings wrong. Before I could see and grieve it, I needed to imagine what it would have meant for me to have been raised differently. Then, I could see what I ~ how to provide, for myself, what I had never been given. It wasn't just a question of naming the traumatic things. It was even more a matter of knowing what it was I should legitimately have been surrounded with, as I grew. I found compassion for that little girl I had been. And with that, I could love and accept and fight for her. It was a hard thing, to claim that right from the mother I carried around in my head. That mother, that internal parent, believes to this day that my mother knows, and is correct, absolutely correct, in how she sees who I am. My real mother believes to this day. That is why she could draw back her arm and pretend she would strike me when I came to visit her with my granddaughters. My mother was enforcing her reality. My mother was around eighty years old when she did that. I was around sixty years old. Isn't that something. I have posted about the time when my father betrayed me to support my mother's decision to ~ I don't know what she was doing. The upshot was that we did not speak for five years. Never before had I felt from my father anything but steady; reliable, funny, bright. Wise, very wise. My mother runs hot and cold. It is who she is. To me now, this is a very sharp weapon in her repertoire. Very sharp. It is like when we are training a new puppy. If we reinforce what we want and never blow hot and cold regarding his training, our puppy will know what is expected and happily comply. If we sporadically reinforce changing expectations, he won't know what it is we want. Then, we say he is a bad little puppy. He thinks so, too. But he never quite knows why. And for me, in my case only, that is why my mom does that. And she does it to this very day. This is true. To see what they do does not mean we don't love them. It is simply that we open our own eyes and not see anymore, through theirs. He does love you, then. Maybe for you then, the task is to separate out those parts that leave you questioning his reasoning and ask him how he sees what he has done. It could be that he is forgetting the power a father holds in how a daughter, whatever her age, feels about herself. He may think you are very strong; frightening, in a way. That could explain what is happening. Your writing reflects strength and clarity. You have held your ground without question here on the site more than once. It could be that you intimidate your father just a little. Do you think that could be the energy swirling through the heart of this? Cedar [/QUOTE]
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