Writing is a spiritual thing for me. If it doesn't flow from my head to my hands and I feel myself forcing it then I know it is not what I need to be writing.
I have started writing one thing three different times. It's not flowing. It's a good story and it is one that I will tell soon enough. For now though there is a more pressing thought that keeps coming to my mind.
How do you know that you are in an abusive relationship?
I always knew as a child that my mother did not love me. I always knew that the things she did were wrong. But her abuse still affected me because I was a child. I tried to please her and I would look at her for validation. I was eager to please actually, despite her inability to reassure or love me.
When I was 11 years old I was taken to a psychologist for the first time because I had "acted out" my aggression.
I rearranged my piano teacher's house. Literally. My sister and I went to piano together and I would wait while she in class and I remember the day quite well. I wasn't angry. I actually don't remember feeling any emotion.
I took her mail and hid it underneath her hot tub. I moved all the plants to different places. I hid her calendar after coloring it. I hid her jewelry and her makeup in her spare bedrooms - underneath the mattresses and I moved her clothes from her closet to the other closets.
Crazy that I remember all of that. But I do. It was unemotional and almost funny to me.
Of course she figured out who did it and called my mom. They thought I was sociopathic :/ Nice.
The doctor we first went to was such a wuss. At least that is how I internalized who he was.
He had a swivel chair in his office. I turned it around and put my feet on the wall. He asked me ever so softly and so kindly to please take my feet off the wall and turn around. I remember hearing his inability to take control of the situation, or what I internalized as an inability to take control. I stayed right there. With my feet on the wall.
That was when I found my power.
We didn't last long at that doctor. My mom probably picked up on his wimpiness too - meaning she probably couldn't control him and make him see just how bad of a kid I really was.
The next doctor walked right into the palm of my mother's hand. I remember when he told me he knew that the reason I had acted out during my sister's piano time was because I hated her. I was actually jealous of my sister, he told me. My sister and I both got a good laugh from that.
And that was when I knew I was in a abusive relationship. Well at 11 though I internalized it as war. She was against me and I knew it. So I was not going to please her anymore. But I would eventually try to, because she wasn't consistently mean. She was and is a narcissist and I had no idea at that time what exactly that meant.
I believe my mom also had Borderline Personality Disorder. That's what a therapist would tell me anyway when I was 24. The sudden and unexpected display of anger that I was responsible for, but not really because I was a kid. My constant fear of setting off a timebomb. It was literally walking on eggshells.
Because of my mom's multiple disorders life was not just complicated it was impossible. She literally made it so we could never win. She was always the victor and we were always on the losing end being punished for everything we didn't even know we had control over.
In high school I was in a play - two plays actually but one of them we actually did well with. My mother never supported me in anything I did. Anything any of us four kids did. Instead we heard about how much of an inconvenience our activities were, how expensive they were (we paid for most of if it anyway if not all of our stuff) and how could we think we would ever be good at them.
One night after coming home to a dark house...she had this thing she would do to punish you - she would lock the front door and turn off all the lights -inside and outside - as a way of showing you that she is upset that she would even have to wait up for you to get back from where ever we were. After knocking - pounding - for several minutes she finally opened the door. She didn't even say hi because that would have been an acknowledgement of my existence, which was always far beneath her. As I walked through the entryway I noticed that she had put up congratulatory signs for me. I had gotten honorable mention for a character I was playing at this competition for plays. She didn't say anything to me though and at the time I was really confused. She made signs to say congratulations but she wouldn't even talk to me when I got home. Years later, and by years I mean 10 plus years, I realized that she had made the signs thinking I was coming home sooner than I did. And when I didn't show up on HER time table she punished me. She never once - still doesn't - even consider that maybe everything isn't personal.
When I went to therapy officially at 24 years old I didn't know to what extent I had endured abuse. In fact I don't even think I really used the words abuse or abusive. I just thought that my mother was mean, vicious even. I thought my dad was evil and I feared him.
Sometimes we get so used to what is happening in a relationship that to survive we minimize what is really happening. We call our abuser cranky, hard to live with, selfish or mean. We keep adjusting our approach only to be met with the same violent outbursts, but we just call it over reacting or freaking out.
In the cover of a book that I love, "Stop Walking On Eggshells", there are questions that you go through to determine if you are in an abusive relationship with someone. I am sure there are questionnaires on the world wide web as well. But it was upon opening that book at the suggestion of my therapist that it hit me - when I really internalized the scope of just how abusive my parents were. My mother and my father were abusive, really abusive, AND it wasn't my fault.
This was the cycle I would go through over and over. An acknowledgement that my parents were abusive and that it wasn't my fault.
The thing about being in an abusive relationship is you are made to believe that your actions or inactions are directly responsible for another person's actions and words. Because we are not perfect we see the truth in it. We weren't patient. We didn't communicate well. We of course did something that we could improve on. Except that even with that improvement you are still wrong. That is abuse, that is walking on eggshells, that is being manipulated.
In a healthy relationship there is honest and open communication. Not accusatory one sided it's all your fault communication. There is a willingness from both parties to be objective and to give up something for the betterment of both individuals. For example:
"I'm sorry I am so late. I could have been more forthright about how long it would really take me to get home."
"I'm sorry I was so rude about it. I could have been more patient about the fact that you didn't get home when you said you would, and I could have waited for your explanation."
Sometimes apologies are one sided, but in a healthy relationship you are not held hostage for that one mistake. It is resolved and never brought again as ammunition in a fight.
If you even wonder if you are in an abusive unhealthy relationship begin now to look into it. Seriously, go online - research signs and symptoms of abuse. Do your homework. Because if you even wonder then you probably are. If you know you are in an abusive unhealthy relationship run don't walk to a therapist. I would encourage to see a clinical psychologist. They have the skill set necessary to help you. Finding a good one is like finding a good pair of jeans. It isn't easy but well worth the effort. And yes mental health is expensive, but you are worth it. Also go to the library and start seeking out books that can help you.
Some of my favorites are:
How To Hug A Porcupine
Stop Walking On Eggshells
The Road Less Traveled by M. Scott Peck
I Hate You Don't Leave Me
Healing The Shame That Binds You
I Don't Have To Make Everything All Better
There are so many great books out there. These were the ones I read almost 17 years ago when I started therapy.
Your life won't change on it's own. Happiness doesn't just happen, we create it and we find it. It takes time to figure out which way is up. It takes time to learn how to set boundaries and to find your self confidence again.
To You - You are important. Your feelings matter. You are worth the time and the effort necessary to for your emotional health. No one will do it for you. Borrow on my belief in you and know that you have what it takes to break the chains of abuse and dysfunction.
GO. FIGHT. WIN.
I have started writing one thing three different times. It's not flowing. It's a good story and it is one that I will tell soon enough. For now though there is a more pressing thought that keeps coming to my mind.
How do you know that you are in an abusive relationship?
I always knew as a child that my mother did not love me. I always knew that the things she did were wrong. But her abuse still affected me because I was a child. I tried to please her and I would look at her for validation. I was eager to please actually, despite her inability to reassure or love me.
When I was 11 years old I was taken to a psychologist for the first time because I had "acted out" my aggression.
I rearranged my piano teacher's house. Literally. My sister and I went to piano together and I would wait while she in class and I remember the day quite well. I wasn't angry. I actually don't remember feeling any emotion.
I took her mail and hid it underneath her hot tub. I moved all the plants to different places. I hid her calendar after coloring it. I hid her jewelry and her makeup in her spare bedrooms - underneath the mattresses and I moved her clothes from her closet to the other closets.
Crazy that I remember all of that. But I do. It was unemotional and almost funny to me.
Of course she figured out who did it and called my mom. They thought I was sociopathic :/ Nice.
The doctor we first went to was such a wuss. At least that is how I internalized who he was.
He had a swivel chair in his office. I turned it around and put my feet on the wall. He asked me ever so softly and so kindly to please take my feet off the wall and turn around. I remember hearing his inability to take control of the situation, or what I internalized as an inability to take control. I stayed right there. With my feet on the wall.
That was when I found my power.
We didn't last long at that doctor. My mom probably picked up on his wimpiness too - meaning she probably couldn't control him and make him see just how bad of a kid I really was.
The next doctor walked right into the palm of my mother's hand. I remember when he told me he knew that the reason I had acted out during my sister's piano time was because I hated her. I was actually jealous of my sister, he told me. My sister and I both got a good laugh from that.
And that was when I knew I was in a abusive relationship. Well at 11 though I internalized it as war. She was against me and I knew it. So I was not going to please her anymore. But I would eventually try to, because she wasn't consistently mean. She was and is a narcissist and I had no idea at that time what exactly that meant.
I believe my mom also had Borderline Personality Disorder. That's what a therapist would tell me anyway when I was 24. The sudden and unexpected display of anger that I was responsible for, but not really because I was a kid. My constant fear of setting off a timebomb. It was literally walking on eggshells.
Because of my mom's multiple disorders life was not just complicated it was impossible. She literally made it so we could never win. She was always the victor and we were always on the losing end being punished for everything we didn't even know we had control over.
In high school I was in a play - two plays actually but one of them we actually did well with. My mother never supported me in anything I did. Anything any of us four kids did. Instead we heard about how much of an inconvenience our activities were, how expensive they were (we paid for most of if it anyway if not all of our stuff) and how could we think we would ever be good at them.
One night after coming home to a dark house...she had this thing she would do to punish you - she would lock the front door and turn off all the lights -inside and outside - as a way of showing you that she is upset that she would even have to wait up for you to get back from where ever we were. After knocking - pounding - for several minutes she finally opened the door. She didn't even say hi because that would have been an acknowledgement of my existence, which was always far beneath her. As I walked through the entryway I noticed that she had put up congratulatory signs for me. I had gotten honorable mention for a character I was playing at this competition for plays. She didn't say anything to me though and at the time I was really confused. She made signs to say congratulations but she wouldn't even talk to me when I got home. Years later, and by years I mean 10 plus years, I realized that she had made the signs thinking I was coming home sooner than I did. And when I didn't show up on HER time table she punished me. She never once - still doesn't - even consider that maybe everything isn't personal.
When I went to therapy officially at 24 years old I didn't know to what extent I had endured abuse. In fact I don't even think I really used the words abuse or abusive. I just thought that my mother was mean, vicious even. I thought my dad was evil and I feared him.
Sometimes we get so used to what is happening in a relationship that to survive we minimize what is really happening. We call our abuser cranky, hard to live with, selfish or mean. We keep adjusting our approach only to be met with the same violent outbursts, but we just call it over reacting or freaking out.
In the cover of a book that I love, "Stop Walking On Eggshells", there are questions that you go through to determine if you are in an abusive relationship with someone. I am sure there are questionnaires on the world wide web as well. But it was upon opening that book at the suggestion of my therapist that it hit me - when I really internalized the scope of just how abusive my parents were. My mother and my father were abusive, really abusive, AND it wasn't my fault.
This was the cycle I would go through over and over. An acknowledgement that my parents were abusive and that it wasn't my fault.
The thing about being in an abusive relationship is you are made to believe that your actions or inactions are directly responsible for another person's actions and words. Because we are not perfect we see the truth in it. We weren't patient. We didn't communicate well. We of course did something that we could improve on. Except that even with that improvement you are still wrong. That is abuse, that is walking on eggshells, that is being manipulated.
In a healthy relationship there is honest and open communication. Not accusatory one sided it's all your fault communication. There is a willingness from both parties to be objective and to give up something for the betterment of both individuals. For example:
"I'm sorry I am so late. I could have been more forthright about how long it would really take me to get home."
"I'm sorry I was so rude about it. I could have been more patient about the fact that you didn't get home when you said you would, and I could have waited for your explanation."
Sometimes apologies are one sided, but in a healthy relationship you are not held hostage for that one mistake. It is resolved and never brought again as ammunition in a fight.
If you even wonder if you are in an abusive unhealthy relationship begin now to look into it. Seriously, go online - research signs and symptoms of abuse. Do your homework. Because if you even wonder then you probably are. If you know you are in an abusive unhealthy relationship run don't walk to a therapist. I would encourage to see a clinical psychologist. They have the skill set necessary to help you. Finding a good one is like finding a good pair of jeans. It isn't easy but well worth the effort. And yes mental health is expensive, but you are worth it. Also go to the library and start seeking out books that can help you.
Some of my favorites are:
How To Hug A Porcupine
Stop Walking On Eggshells
The Road Less Traveled by M. Scott Peck
I Hate You Don't Leave Me
Healing The Shame That Binds You
I Don't Have To Make Everything All Better
There are so many great books out there. These were the ones I read almost 17 years ago when I started therapy.
Your life won't change on it's own. Happiness doesn't just happen, we create it and we find it. It takes time to figure out which way is up. It takes time to learn how to set boundaries and to find your self confidence again.
To You - You are important. Your feelings matter. You are worth the time and the effort necessary to for your emotional health. No one will do it for you. Borrow on my belief in you and know that you have what it takes to break the chains of abuse and dysfunction.
GO. FIGHT. WIN.
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