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Family of Origin (FOO) Support Thread Part 2
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<blockquote data-quote="BusynMember" data-source="post: 663161" data-attributes="member: 1550"><p>The names we were called are NEVER acknowledged as abuse.</p><p></p><p>Slut is a horrible name to call your own child, even if they are promiscuous and worse if they are not.</p><p></p><p>Any time a mother calls us a negative label, whatever it is, it hurts us to the quick, unless there is an apology and an acknowledgement that this was the wrong t hing for them to do...an apology from my mother just once would have been so sweet. I apologized to her over and over again for anything I may have done to hurt her. She never acknowledged that I did this either. I did it with words a nd with cards and I meant it, although, honestly, I can have a big mouth, but nothing I said to her in anger or hurt came close to what she did to me, over and over again. The rejection from childhood on up just ate me up more than her words. The labels stuck in my head and spoke to me, even after she died. Especially after she made sure I knew she did not consider me worthy from the grave. Mothers words stay with the person forever. I am 61 and have finally learned not to hear, "You are worthless" or "You are bad" (this is the biggest one) in my head in her voice. I recently have learned to be very mindful of these emotional flashback abusive phrases from her lips. It took me 61 years. Some people die with these phrases in their heads.</p><p></p><p>I did start to improve in my 40's, but it's slow going and after she died, I had a setback from her final rejection and laugh from the grave, but since then steadily moved upward, seeing my FOO for who they really were and are for the first time. That it was not me. That they define me as they do because that is what dysfunctional unloving families do to their own. There HAS to be a good guy and a bad guy. And often the entire family joins in. And most often the scapegoat is started in childhood, even infancy, because he or s he is the vulnerable one who is sensitive and more difficult and more apt to call a self-hating mother out on her stuff.</p><p></p><p>Mine started at my birth.</p><p></p><p>"When I held you in my arms, I felt nothing, absolutely nothing."</p><p></p><p>That is something she could have taken to her grave. I never needed to hear that. I never forgot it. She never bonded with me. From the grave she kicked me again. I tried to make amends. I believe in tryng. She would not accept them. I would have accepted hers, but she never made amends, never thought she did anything wrong. That destroyed any relationship I could have had with my siblings because they bought what she sold and, further, were both damaged as well. I feel I have done t he best, at least on an emtional level, as I can accept love and give unconditional love and both of t hem struggle mightily with intimate relationships, even with one another.</p><p></p><p>She damaged us all.</p><p></p><p>They tend to blame my father more and he is not blameless, but he was also abused and easily baited, like me.</p><p></p><p>He did some horrible things...he cheated once. I never defend that. Get a divorce first. However, he loved my mom and she hated hm by then. I remember her talking about his cheating to me in her rather demeaning voice. "I didn't CARE t hat he cheated. I just cared that he picked a lowlife on welfare to cheat with me on." Not her exact words, but exactly what she meant when she said it and articulated as such.</p><p></p><p>Then my grandmother, who I really loved but she had a mean streak, and my mother went on a campaign to get my mother out of the marriage. My mother did such a good sales job, all three of us s ided with her. Looking back, I think she abused him and belitted him in much the same way she did me. I feel a kinship with him. I know, as he did not, that the other two blame him. I would never tell him the horrible things the others said about him, although not to his face. And some of it was deserved, but clearly he was the "abusive" one in their eyes.</p><p></p><p>I was the oldest. We had a den built off our kitchen. I used to sit there at night and here their kitchen fights, which is where they mostly took place because the living room in our small house would have awakened my seven years younger sister and my brother. She would bait him and mock him for the choices he made. Not that he made good choices all the time...he pretty much gave away his part of a pharmacy he owned to his drug addict partner just to get out of the nuttiness of the partner's addiction. Looking back, I understand. But she never let him forget it and never stopped mocking and belittling him for being so weak.</p><p></p><p>His partner got into dangerous business with dangerous people. He was a Quaalude addict and once held a gun to his family, who fled. I think my father was partly trying to protect us, and my mother disagreed and never shut her face about it. I heard it night after night, late at night, because I was the only one old enough to still be up. I hated her for it. When she did it. I wanted her to shut up. Just like I always did when they fought.</p><p></p><p>My dad isn't' perfect. He has a terrible temper when he gets angry. He gets rageful. Although once in a while he'd throw things when provoked, he never hit her. But sometimes they would fight in front of all three of us, especially on Sunday mornings. Late nights and Sunday mornings were the only time the two of them were together as Dad wasn't home much. I don't blame him. During those Sunday morning fights, while we three huddled on the stairs, they would go at it viciously. Dad looked murderous. I wanted to scream at her to stop baiting him. I didn't want him to do anything. I was scared. I was scared of HIM when shes baited him. I knew he had a bad temper. So did she. She would get in his face and almost taunt him to hit her. He never did, but it was so scary.</p><p></p><p>She was t he one who had more c ontrol. In fact, s he baited on purpose. He was wrong too. But I kept wondering why she wouldn't just walk away from him since she knew all three of us were watching. Why did she insist on continuing the fight, that was often about each other's horrible families (their opinions) and stop it. If she was so scared of him, why did she get in his face when he was mad? I did not blame her for his temper, but I blamed her for deliberately baiting him in front of us. And I blamed her more than him. Fair? Probably not. But I knew how s he baited me. She was so GOOD at pushing buttons in the vulnerable.</p><p></p><p>Maybe I stuck up for my dad, at least in my head, because he did not favor my siblings over me. He didn't hate me. He didn't treat me as a scapegoat. So I naturally sided with him. Except for the divorce, in which I was newly married, struggling, and had her ear. But that didn't last. They SHOULD have gotten divorced, but it was not HIS fault. They were both at fault. In the end, my mother, like my sister and brother, never found a satisfactory relationship with anyone but one another. Her boyfriend wasas dysfunctional as my father. He was nicer to her, but he was also sick and needy, like my brother. She worshipped him. He cheated on her with an undocumented woman who wanted to be a U.S. citizen. He married her. She abused hiim. He dumped my mother for her, although they stayed friends.</p><p></p><p>In the end, my mother picked a dysfunctional man a second time and was hurt, as I feel she deserved. I didn't wish it for her, but I knew she hadn't changed and, like my sister, wanted a man who could not really give her anything emotionally.</p><p></p><p>I swear, I'm the only one in the family in a happy relationship that will last until one of us dies.</p><p></p><p>I am the only one who is not afraid to feel love and give it.</p><p></p><p>I am grateful I got out of the family, even if it was partly because they rejected me. Their influence was not a good one.</p><p></p><p>I have been very mindful throughout my life not to call my kids names. Even when my two more difficult ones were giving me grief, I did not call them names often and the few times I slipped up there were immediate apologies from me.</p><p></p><p>Those two difficult(er) kids have kids now.</p><p></p><p>They are both loving, amazing parents. I am especially impressed with Princess and the constant way she loves and empowers her baby daughter, who does not understand there is ugliness and anger toward her in this world. Her SO stepped up to the plate as a father. I was unsure at one time if either would grow up. They are the best young parents I know. I was not as good a parent as t hey are to my grandbaby. She is the happiness baby. They never act angry toward her.</p><p></p><p>Bart is sometimes overindulgent of his son, but he would do anything for him and is very protective of him and God help anyone who says a nasty word to his son. He has fought until he was a nervous wreck in court for his son's well being. I am proud of him.</p><p></p><p>I hope, that a part of this is because t hey were never abused themselves. I actually gave myself a pat on the back!!!!! That is not normal for me. I am more apt to tear myself down. But I'm learning, have been slowly learning from the 40's to now. Why do we have to be this old to see things clearly? That we are valuable? That we have done well in life? That we are not responsible for the problems other have? That maybe we imparted some good to our kids, even if they struggle? That it is a hard task to find and give love to a SO for a long period of time, but we are doing it? That we have good hearts, maybe better hearts than those who told us we were bad people? Why does it take so long??</p><p></p><p>Well, late is better than never.</p><p></p><p>I wish I had beautiful, thick red hair. I have very fine hair that I now dye brown, which is the natural color. But I was pretty when I was young and people still think I look good for my age. I get guessed ten years younger. The one thing my mother did NOT do was tell me I was ugly. In fact, she told me that I "had nice features" and "was pretty." These were imperative for her...to have pretty daughters (she does). Why? "Girls don't have to be smart, they just have to be beautiful." But she also harped on our weight and my sister has one whopper of an eating disorder that has never gone away, that she has never gotten help to resolve. By far, she is the prettier one, but she is also too thin, which she enjoys. "Men like anorexic women." Her words. She believes it. So did my mother.</p><p></p><p>I am rambling. I am done.</p><p></p><p>I love these early morning/late night hours where the world is quiet and peaceful.</p><p></p><p>Good wishes to you all.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="BusynMember, post: 663161, member: 1550"] The names we were called are NEVER acknowledged as abuse. Slut is a horrible name to call your own child, even if they are promiscuous and worse if they are not. Any time a mother calls us a negative label, whatever it is, it hurts us to the quick, unless there is an apology and an acknowledgement that this was the wrong t hing for them to do...an apology from my mother just once would have been so sweet. I apologized to her over and over again for anything I may have done to hurt her. She never acknowledged that I did this either. I did it with words a nd with cards and I meant it, although, honestly, I can have a big mouth, but nothing I said to her in anger or hurt came close to what she did to me, over and over again. The rejection from childhood on up just ate me up more than her words. The labels stuck in my head and spoke to me, even after she died. Especially after she made sure I knew she did not consider me worthy from the grave. Mothers words stay with the person forever. I am 61 and have finally learned not to hear, "You are worthless" or "You are bad" (this is the biggest one) in my head in her voice. I recently have learned to be very mindful of these emotional flashback abusive phrases from her lips. It took me 61 years. Some people die with these phrases in their heads. I did start to improve in my 40's, but it's slow going and after she died, I had a setback from her final rejection and laugh from the grave, but since then steadily moved upward, seeing my FOO for who they really were and are for the first time. That it was not me. That they define me as they do because that is what dysfunctional unloving families do to their own. There HAS to be a good guy and a bad guy. And often the entire family joins in. And most often the scapegoat is started in childhood, even infancy, because he or s he is the vulnerable one who is sensitive and more difficult and more apt to call a self-hating mother out on her stuff. Mine started at my birth. "When I held you in my arms, I felt nothing, absolutely nothing." That is something she could have taken to her grave. I never needed to hear that. I never forgot it. She never bonded with me. From the grave she kicked me again. I tried to make amends. I believe in tryng. She would not accept them. I would have accepted hers, but she never made amends, never thought she did anything wrong. That destroyed any relationship I could have had with my siblings because they bought what she sold and, further, were both damaged as well. I feel I have done t he best, at least on an emtional level, as I can accept love and give unconditional love and both of t hem struggle mightily with intimate relationships, even with one another. She damaged us all. They tend to blame my father more and he is not blameless, but he was also abused and easily baited, like me. He did some horrible things...he cheated once. I never defend that. Get a divorce first. However, he loved my mom and she hated hm by then. I remember her talking about his cheating to me in her rather demeaning voice. "I didn't CARE t hat he cheated. I just cared that he picked a lowlife on welfare to cheat with me on." Not her exact words, but exactly what she meant when she said it and articulated as such. Then my grandmother, who I really loved but she had a mean streak, and my mother went on a campaign to get my mother out of the marriage. My mother did such a good sales job, all three of us s ided with her. Looking back, I think she abused him and belitted him in much the same way she did me. I feel a kinship with him. I know, as he did not, that the other two blame him. I would never tell him the horrible things the others said about him, although not to his face. And some of it was deserved, but clearly he was the "abusive" one in their eyes. I was the oldest. We had a den built off our kitchen. I used to sit there at night and here their kitchen fights, which is where they mostly took place because the living room in our small house would have awakened my seven years younger sister and my brother. She would bait him and mock him for the choices he made. Not that he made good choices all the time...he pretty much gave away his part of a pharmacy he owned to his drug addict partner just to get out of the nuttiness of the partner's addiction. Looking back, I understand. But she never let him forget it and never stopped mocking and belittling him for being so weak. His partner got into dangerous business with dangerous people. He was a Quaalude addict and once held a gun to his family, who fled. I think my father was partly trying to protect us, and my mother disagreed and never shut her face about it. I heard it night after night, late at night, because I was the only one old enough to still be up. I hated her for it. When she did it. I wanted her to shut up. Just like I always did when they fought. My dad isn't' perfect. He has a terrible temper when he gets angry. He gets rageful. Although once in a while he'd throw things when provoked, he never hit her. But sometimes they would fight in front of all three of us, especially on Sunday mornings. Late nights and Sunday mornings were the only time the two of them were together as Dad wasn't home much. I don't blame him. During those Sunday morning fights, while we three huddled on the stairs, they would go at it viciously. Dad looked murderous. I wanted to scream at her to stop baiting him. I didn't want him to do anything. I was scared. I was scared of HIM when shes baited him. I knew he had a bad temper. So did she. She would get in his face and almost taunt him to hit her. He never did, but it was so scary. She was t he one who had more c ontrol. In fact, s he baited on purpose. He was wrong too. But I kept wondering why she wouldn't just walk away from him since she knew all three of us were watching. Why did she insist on continuing the fight, that was often about each other's horrible families (their opinions) and stop it. If she was so scared of him, why did she get in his face when he was mad? I did not blame her for his temper, but I blamed her for deliberately baiting him in front of us. And I blamed her more than him. Fair? Probably not. But I knew how s he baited me. She was so GOOD at pushing buttons in the vulnerable. Maybe I stuck up for my dad, at least in my head, because he did not favor my siblings over me. He didn't hate me. He didn't treat me as a scapegoat. So I naturally sided with him. Except for the divorce, in which I was newly married, struggling, and had her ear. But that didn't last. They SHOULD have gotten divorced, but it was not HIS fault. They were both at fault. In the end, my mother, like my sister and brother, never found a satisfactory relationship with anyone but one another. Her boyfriend wasas dysfunctional as my father. He was nicer to her, but he was also sick and needy, like my brother. She worshipped him. He cheated on her with an undocumented woman who wanted to be a U.S. citizen. He married her. She abused hiim. He dumped my mother for her, although they stayed friends. In the end, my mother picked a dysfunctional man a second time and was hurt, as I feel she deserved. I didn't wish it for her, but I knew she hadn't changed and, like my sister, wanted a man who could not really give her anything emotionally. I swear, I'm the only one in the family in a happy relationship that will last until one of us dies. I am the only one who is not afraid to feel love and give it. I am grateful I got out of the family, even if it was partly because they rejected me. Their influence was not a good one. I have been very mindful throughout my life not to call my kids names. Even when my two more difficult ones were giving me grief, I did not call them names often and the few times I slipped up there were immediate apologies from me. Those two difficult(er) kids have kids now. They are both loving, amazing parents. I am especially impressed with Princess and the constant way she loves and empowers her baby daughter, who does not understand there is ugliness and anger toward her in this world. Her SO stepped up to the plate as a father. I was unsure at one time if either would grow up. They are the best young parents I know. I was not as good a parent as t hey are to my grandbaby. She is the happiness baby. They never act angry toward her. Bart is sometimes overindulgent of his son, but he would do anything for him and is very protective of him and God help anyone who says a nasty word to his son. He has fought until he was a nervous wreck in court for his son's well being. I am proud of him. I hope, that a part of this is because t hey were never abused themselves. I actually gave myself a pat on the back!!!!! That is not normal for me. I am more apt to tear myself down. But I'm learning, have been slowly learning from the 40's to now. Why do we have to be this old to see things clearly? That we are valuable? That we have done well in life? That we are not responsible for the problems other have? That maybe we imparted some good to our kids, even if they struggle? That it is a hard task to find and give love to a SO for a long period of time, but we are doing it? That we have good hearts, maybe better hearts than those who told us we were bad people? Why does it take so long?? Well, late is better than never. I wish I had beautiful, thick red hair. I have very fine hair that I now dye brown, which is the natural color. But I was pretty when I was young and people still think I look good for my age. I get guessed ten years younger. The one thing my mother did NOT do was tell me I was ugly. In fact, she told me that I "had nice features" and "was pretty." These were imperative for her...to have pretty daughters (she does). Why? "Girls don't have to be smart, they just have to be beautiful." But she also harped on our weight and my sister has one whopper of an eating disorder that has never gone away, that she has never gotten help to resolve. By far, she is the prettier one, but she is also too thin, which she enjoys. "Men like anorexic women." Her words. She believes it. So did my mother. I am rambling. I am done. I love these early morning/late night hours where the world is quiet and peaceful. Good wishes to you all. [/QUOTE]
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