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Family of Origin
When parents still abuse their adult children:
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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 675097" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>I am thinking about the family dinner and my version of it. If I have one.</p><p></p><p>I will use maze imagery here. When I rushed to help my mother, I circumvented the maze and I went directly to the center, cutting through the hedges that I had constructed to protect myself. What were those hedges? The lies and half-lies I had told myself for all of my adult life.</p><p></p><p>I was indifferent to my mother.</p><p>I was afraid of my sister.</p><p>My role in the family was peripheral. I was marginalized, by choice.</p><p></p><p>In one fell swoop I defied these beliefs. My maze. And I cut through them, as if they did not exist.</p><p></p><p>So on the face of it, Cedar, it looks like I did the opposite of you.</p><p></p><p>To save myself I left. I had holiday dinner with my son at the zoo. Or McDonalds, with the play structure, I sitting on the side. I had no illusion that I belonged anywhere, with anybody, preferring banishment to belonging. I embraced the idea of being alone. Having no one. Being nobody except who I decided I would be.</p><p></p><p>I used the imagery of the hero on a quest. In far off lands. Alone. Away from his people. Perhaps discredited. He was banished. To return, strong and brave. Perhaps.</p><p></p><p>And when my people needed me. I returned. I claimed my place. I fought for it.</p><p></p><p>I cared for my mother. I sacrificed myself. Because the person that came back to her people had never healed the wounds. By my intentions and honor I did it. At the cost of all of the defenses I had built all my life. I cut through them, destroying all of my security. Looking back, that is what I think I did.</p><p></p><p>Maybe I have spent these two years plus in rebuilding them. Or better, yet. Maybe I have built a bridge to the heart of the maze. I hope so.</p><p></p><p>So how does this correlate to your family dinner?</p><p></p><p>I believe you are a hero Cedar. I believe that you, a small girl, threw a gauntlet down and decided that you too would have that family dinner the table set with crystal and Limoges and the best sterling flatware, after the mother of your friend, you emulated. You decided that would be you. That you would construct a persona and a life with that ideal. And a family, too.</p><p></p><p>So, where I left, and abdicated, you believed you could do it and you did do it. At a cost. Every thing that did not conform to the picture, you tried to deny.</p><p></p><p>I knew why I left: my sister was mean and my mother did not love me in the way I needed. I was left to live with a different reality. Alone.</p><p></p><p>But the problem was not just I was alone, but I bought the idea that I was unlovable. That what I wanted, belonging, inclusion was unattainable. Because something was wrong with me. It seems like while I thought I was leaving, because I wanted more and to get more, really, I was accepting that I was unlovable, that they could not love me.</p><p></p><p>Each of us was wrong and hurt ourselves very much. You cut yourself down to size, every time your mother or sister betrayed you, believing it was your fault.</p><p></p><p>I lived a life alone, because in my heart I must have believed it was all my fault that my family was mean to me and did not love me enough.</p><p></p><p>The truth you have written over and over again: We were jewels in cesspools, Cedar. But because we were always touched by the decay, we declared ourselves to be the smelly ones.</p><p></p><p>The family dinner exists, Cedar. You are it. The letting go has to be of the illusion, the idea, that your family members can be invited. They will always spit in the champagne, and throw the stemware onto the floor. Their only motivation to show up is to wreck the table to show you up as a fraud, your dreams beyond you. Like Cinderella. Their motivation is to spoil your dreams, Cedar. </p><p></p><p>You are the family dinner. They have never belonged.</p><p></p><p>So what is my story? I do not know. My return was to protect my mother. But maybe in doing so I saved myself. Maybe I needed to return to the kingdom to own my power and my realm. To my self.</p><p></p><p>That could well be so, if I look at how my sister reacted. She surely acted as if I had come back to claim my mother, my mother's love, and what she had thought was hers. I have to accept that as a possibility. She sees me as making my mother choose between us, and herself as losing. She sees me as a victor, that I have claimed the throne.</p><p></p><p>And that is why I have for so long closeted myself in my self-made dungeon. Because I have felt I was either ill-suited, unprepared or inadequate to step into a role of power in my own life. That must be because I am protecting my sister, not myself. Or maybe, my mother too, still. Blaming myself for every single thing. Every time.. Maintaining myself still, the impostor, in my own life.</p><p></p><p>So I am doing the same thing, or I have been. A variation of what you do.</p><p></p><p>You maintain the illusion of the perfect family dinner. When something goes wrong, you blame yourself. Instead of facing what you already know: Your mother has spit into the shrimp mousse and your sister is dancing on the table, naked. It is right there in front of you: her nakedness. But you blame yourself.</p><p></p><p>I will send this post and think about what I did.</p><p></p><p>COPA</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 675097, member: 18958"] I am thinking about the family dinner and my version of it. If I have one. I will use maze imagery here. When I rushed to help my mother, I circumvented the maze and I went directly to the center, cutting through the hedges that I had constructed to protect myself. What were those hedges? The lies and half-lies I had told myself for all of my adult life. I was indifferent to my mother. I was afraid of my sister. My role in the family was peripheral. I was marginalized, by choice. In one fell swoop I defied these beliefs. My maze. And I cut through them, as if they did not exist. So on the face of it, Cedar, it looks like I did the opposite of you. To save myself I left. I had holiday dinner with my son at the zoo. Or McDonalds, with the play structure, I sitting on the side. I had no illusion that I belonged anywhere, with anybody, preferring banishment to belonging. I embraced the idea of being alone. Having no one. Being nobody except who I decided I would be. I used the imagery of the hero on a quest. In far off lands. Alone. Away from his people. Perhaps discredited. He was banished. To return, strong and brave. Perhaps. And when my people needed me. I returned. I claimed my place. I fought for it. I cared for my mother. I sacrificed myself. Because the person that came back to her people had never healed the wounds. By my intentions and honor I did it. At the cost of all of the defenses I had built all my life. I cut through them, destroying all of my security. Looking back, that is what I think I did. Maybe I have spent these two years plus in rebuilding them. Or better, yet. Maybe I have built a bridge to the heart of the maze. I hope so. So how does this correlate to your family dinner? I believe you are a hero Cedar. I believe that you, a small girl, threw a gauntlet down and decided that you too would have that family dinner the table set with crystal and Limoges and the best sterling flatware, after the mother of your friend, you emulated. You decided that would be you. That you would construct a persona and a life with that ideal. And a family, too. So, where I left, and abdicated, you believed you could do it and you did do it. At a cost. Every thing that did not conform to the picture, you tried to deny. I knew why I left: my sister was mean and my mother did not love me in the way I needed. I was left to live with a different reality. Alone. But the problem was not just I was alone, but I bought the idea that I was unlovable. That what I wanted, belonging, inclusion was unattainable. Because something was wrong with me. It seems like while I thought I was leaving, because I wanted more and to get more, really, I was accepting that I was unlovable, that they could not love me. Each of us was wrong and hurt ourselves very much. You cut yourself down to size, every time your mother or sister betrayed you, believing it was your fault. I lived a life alone, because in my heart I must have believed it was all my fault that my family was mean to me and did not love me enough. The truth you have written over and over again: We were jewels in cesspools, Cedar. But because we were always touched by the decay, we declared ourselves to be the smelly ones. The family dinner exists, Cedar. You are it. The letting go has to be of the illusion, the idea, that your family members can be invited. They will always spit in the champagne, and throw the stemware onto the floor. Their only motivation to show up is to wreck the table to show you up as a fraud, your dreams beyond you. Like Cinderella. Their motivation is to spoil your dreams, Cedar. You are the family dinner. They have never belonged. So what is my story? I do not know. My return was to protect my mother. But maybe in doing so I saved myself. Maybe I needed to return to the kingdom to own my power and my realm. To my self. That could well be so, if I look at how my sister reacted. She surely acted as if I had come back to claim my mother, my mother's love, and what she had thought was hers. I have to accept that as a possibility. She sees me as making my mother choose between us, and herself as losing. She sees me as a victor, that I have claimed the throne. And that is why I have for so long closeted myself in my self-made dungeon. Because I have felt I was either ill-suited, unprepared or inadequate to step into a role of power in my own life. That must be because I am protecting my sister, not myself. Or maybe, my mother too, still. Blaming myself for every single thing. Every time.. Maintaining myself still, the impostor, in my own life. So I am doing the same thing, or I have been. A variation of what you do. You maintain the illusion of the perfect family dinner. When something goes wrong, you blame yourself. Instead of facing what you already know: Your mother has spit into the shrimp mousse and your sister is dancing on the table, naked. It is right there in front of you: her nakedness. But you blame yourself. I will send this post and think about what I did. COPA [/QUOTE]
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When parents still abuse their adult children:
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