Tough Talk Thursday: Undoing The Damage

Christmas in my house while I was growing up was not a blissfully happy time. Yes, there were gifts, meals, and gatherings. However, Christmas was often when things boiled over in my parents' strained marriage. More than once in my childhood and teen years, my dad decided to leave our family. He would stay away for several days, perhaps a week, maybe longer. He always came back, and was back for Christmas Eve, but there was that unsettled, explosive energy that permeated everything. There were heavy silences that led to volatile, angry outbursts. As a kid, I could tell what kind of day it was going to be just by my parents' footsteps in the hall in the morning. The sound of the bathroom door opening or closing could predict the mood of the day. The level of heaviness of a teacup set down upon the kitchen table told me which parent was on a tirade before it even began. It's funny, the things we remember and the tools we develop to survive. 

That unease and heaviness during Christmas follows me like a shadow. I have spent years analyzing my parents' behaviors, trying to make sense of it all. I question why it was always at Christmas that things imploded. Why was my dad unhappy during Christmas? He would willingly admit he hated Christmas and had no good memories of it as a child. Was there some old trauma or wound from his childhood of which I was unaware? Probably. As an adult, I can view things from a different perspective. Knowing what I know about his family growing up, there was something there that wounded him. I believe my parents did the best they could with their experiences and abilities. However, as a teenager, I knew I wanted more for myself and my future family.

For many years, I believed the only way to ensure I did not continue on the same path as my parents was never to marry and certainly not have children. Yes, I was in committed, long-term relationships, but I always kept that easy out clause by never committing to marriage. If I weren't married, I certainly couldn't have children, and that was fine with me. Three different therapists and endless hours of counseling gave me a lot of insight, dear reader. However, there is no wake-up call greater than the experience of becoming a parent.    

My dear husband, God love him, takes me warts and all and loves me anyhow. He put up with verbal abuse, manipulation, and the toxic environment created by my family for more than a decade. I was used to it. He, however, knew that what was happening was not healthy or normal. He stood by me and stood up for me through a lot. I'm not sure we would still be married if things had not changed drastically. Regardless, he is still here. It was The Bean's arrival that really opened my eyes to just how unhealthy our family dynamic had become. 

By this time, my dad was gone, but the volatility in our family remained, and truth be told, had increased. I dreaded the holidays—the walking on eggshells, the angry outbursts, the unknown of how the day would end. What had changed was that it was no longer just my husband and me. We now had a child who was experiencing everything I had experienced as a child. These were the memories that were being created for her. This was the environment I was exposing the most precious person in the world to, and she was absorbing it all like a little sponge. 

When The Bean was six, I made a choice—an impossible choice at the time, but a choice that had to be made for the well-being of my daughter. I tried to love from a distance, setting boundaries, doing all the healthy things my therapist assured me would work. It did not work. Instead, it exacerbated an already inflamed and strained situation. Because having a calm, mature conversation was impossible, I wrote a letter from "the I perspective", not laying blame, not pointing fingers, just outlining my feelings and thoughts. I had my therapist read the letter before I delivered it. She assured me it was a healthy form of communication. That letter was the beginning of the end. Rather than address the issues I brought to light, I was told that the letter was not read after a few lines because I was being mean and creating situations that never existed. In a matter of months, communication with my entire family had broken down, and individuals who had personal gain as their primary goal got involved where they did not belong. What should have remained between my mother and me became a family debacle. Within a few months, I was informed by the third party with everything to gain that my mother wanted to cut all ties with me, and that was the end of my relationship with my family. It was not all neat and tidy, but I don't have to expose all the ugliness. 

As I sit writing all this, my blood pressure is throbbing in my ears, my heart rate is elevated, and I have a rather sick feeling in my stomach. This situation will probably never cease being painful for me. However, now that almost a decade has passed, I can honestly say that I look forward to the holidays with my daughter, husband, and mother-in-law. It has taken more years of therapy to undo the damage than I would like to admit. However, I can confidently say that I have spent the past decade creating a healthy, loving environment filled with mostly good memories for my girl. She does not walk on eggshells. She doesn't wonder or worry what will set off a time bomb. She wakes up happy, knowing she is loved, that her parents love each other, and that her family has her back no matter the situation. She has stability, love, and acceptance. 

Undoing the damage is our responsibility. I don't blame either of my parents for anything. Instead, I accept that I cannot change anything. I can't undo their damage; they have to own that. What I can control is my reaction to the damage. I choose to undo it and not perpetuate. It's tough, dear reader, unlearning what you learned in a lifetime. It's challenging not to revert to old, familiar behaviors. It's hard to keep one's feelings in check. It's not easy to keep the shadows of childhood at bay, especially during the holidays when you feel a bit more tender and raw. 

My one motivation is my bean. Teaching her that we can do hard things even when it is uncomfortable and painful, that we can make hard choices when we need to, and that it is for the betterment of those for whom we are responsible. We can change our trajectory. We can improve ourselves through hard work, effort, forgiveness, and self-love. I want her never to feel stuck. My advice to her is that we always have a choice; there are always options. You may not like your options, but you aren't stuck. You're only stuck if you choose to be stuck. I chose not to be stuck. My choices were not ideal, but honestly, when are they?

I do not recommend family estrangement to anyone. However, sometimes, when given our options, that is the only one that keeps everyone safe and healthy. My advice, when asked, is always to exhaust all other options. Go to therapy, do the work, put in the time and effort, and do what you can. Sometimes, your only option is to love from a distance. There are many factors that go into each situation, and they must all be weighed. I know some individuals judge me for my family situation. I've learned to become okay with that as well. They weren't there, they didn't experience what I did, they heard a fraction of the story, but if you don't care to ask me about my story, I don't care what you think. You, not me, have set the precedent, and that is okay.

 At this stage, I am working on forgiveness. What no one tells you is that forgiveness isn't like a magic wand that magically takes away all the bad feelings. Forgiveness is a frequent and conscious choice. Painful memories pop up from nowhere, and anger rises when we give our mind and emotions the freedom to wander. Forgiveness is a choice. It is a choice I make more frequently than I would like to admit. I wish I had the power to utter the words, "I forgive you," and all trespasses are forgotten. However, the reality, dear reader, is that it isn't that simple-not for me. So, I frequently choose not to live an embittered, angry, or resentful life. Instead, I concentrate on my blessings. I focus on what I have, not what has been taken away, or truth be told, never was to begin with. I focus my energy on what I can control. I make the best of what I have been gifted with, and I am happy. 

I could not always truthfully utter those words, "I am happy." However, in the last several years, I have realized I am, and I am grateful for that. Despite it all, I am happy, truly, genuinely happy. Happiness, like forgiveness, stability, and peace, is a choice. You're only stuck if you let yourself be stuck—my unsolicited advice: choose not to be stuck. Choose happiness. Create peace. Choose forgiveness, not for others, but for you and those who look to you as to how things should be done. Undo the damage. 

So, dear reader, that is my Tough Talk Thursday. If my oversharing can give someone a bit of insight, ease a burden, make one feel they aren't crazy, or worse, alone, then it's worth it. Don't blame; choose. Choose stability, balance, a healthy life, love, forgiveness, and happiness. On this Tough Talk Thursday, stay safe, be smart, choose not to be stuck, undo the damage, and keep washing your hands.