I want my blog to take a turn a bit here. I want it to be more about the present, and less about the past. I feel like I've dwelt on the past plenty, and moving forward to today will be a healthy step for me. To that end....
One of the effects of an abusive childhood, I've learned, is that I'm more prone to bouts of depression. Depression that is fueled by patterns of negative thinking. I still haven't figured out why, but it seems that old memories and hurts seem to trigger a negative thought pattern, when new stressful events happen upon us is everyday life.
Like this past two weeks for me. It has been a rough two weeks for me. First, My girlfriend and I ended a 6 month relationship, and then, there were layoffs at my workplace and I came the closest to being laid off that I have ever been. My boss and a co-worker were let go, and myself and two other co-corkers were transfered into different departments. A very dramatic change in life, and I see that I do NOT like change.
So in the last two weeks or so, my life has changed dramatically, and I won't give myself permission to feel lousy about that. My perfectionism is driving me to try to feel fine about all of this. Well, I don't feel fine. I feel lousy and depressed. And I feel over-whelmed by everything... Like I just wanna stay in bed and avoid everything. And the depression is deepened by the idealistic belief that, even in times of turmoil and trouble, I have to keep it all together... That I can't fall apart. Bah... So, I'm depressed about being depressed!!!
And, I've recently reduced the anti-depression/anti-anxiety medication I've been on for the last 6 months... so that doesn't help either.
A lesson to be learned here? That I will do my best to give this to God. I surrender to it. Just like when I have the flu, or a cold... Do I beat myself up for having a cold or the flu, and tell myself that I shouldn't have a cold or the flu, and that I should just get over it? Heck no... I go slow, and take it easy, and know that I'm not as capable as I normally am... I lower my expectations of myself. That's what I need to realize in times of depression... that it is an illness, just like a cold or flu, and my body and soul need recovery time. That I need to dramatically lower my expectations of myself. Give myself a break.. I am not feeling well, no matter what the cause. And wishing it away does not work.
- Steve
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Friday, December 7, 2007
I realize that I didn't post many details about the abuse I suffered. It is such a long story, and some of the memories are fresh, others are fuzzy. So much of it feels like it happened yesterday, it is right there, and has always been right there... just below the surface, for my entire life.
Warning--- Possible trigger. Story of physical abuse. If you're not in a safe place, and stories of abuse may trigger you emotionally, don't continue.
Well, the physical abuse was rampant throughout my middle and late childhood. Both of my parents were my abusers, and later in my childhood, my oldest brother became my abuser. I have 3 brothers and 1 sister, and we were all physically abused, mostly by my father. My earliest memories of the physical abuse are at about age 9 or 10. This was about the time that my family moved to a larger, but less comfortable house. We all had to switch schools, and there was a great deal of tension and anxiety in our family, due to this transistion.
My father started drinking more, and the economy was really bad (~1978), and my parents were horribly stressed. But their reaction to that stress was to abuse and lash out at each other, and their children. The worst memories are of my fathers abuse. He would come home after work (and then working on my grandmothers farm) at about 7 or 8PM. He was tired and just wanted to sit in peace and quiet. But there were 5 kids in the house, so there isn't a lot of peace and quiet. He insisted on quiet, and as high energy little kids, with little to do in our small town, we were not silent. This would set him off. Our very presence was enough to agitate him to the point where he would chase us upstairs where he wouldn't have to hear us. Trouble was, what do 5 kids who've been chased to bed at 7 or 8 do? We talked and played upstairs... and we made noise. Usually not a lot of noise, just talking and moving around and playing. And he could hear every squeak of the floor, and every footstep, and it drove him crazy. He'd scream up the stairs a few times for us to be quiet, and we'd be quiet for a bit. But slowly, our nervous energy bubbled out, and we'd venture out a bit to talk and move from room to room and play.
It was a calculated risk everytime we took a step, because the floor might squeak, and a squeak might bring him charging up the stairs. And it did many times. All it would take would be a single footstep or floor-squeak at this point, for him to boil over. He was a control freak, and saw any child making noise when he told us to be quiet, as a personal insult and disobedience, and worthy of his rage. And his rage would boil over.
He would charge up the stairs... I still remember the sound... A loud thumping as he bounded up the stairs two or three at a time. We all knew what was coming, so we ran and hid in all sorts of places, and waited. Waited for what we knew was coming. He would charge up the stairs, and go looking for someone, anyone, to beat. And his favorite weapon was a belt... his leather belt.
The drill was, he'd find one kid, barging from room to room looking for an easy target. And he would grab that one kid, hold us by the arms, and beat us on the back or the legs with the belt. The pain was horrible and his frothing and raging made it all worse. A feeling that I was facing uncontrolled, possibly lethal, raw violence. But the strange thing was, he'd usually only find one... sometimes two kids to beat. Then his rage was satisfied, and he'd stomp back downstairs, and we'd not hear from him again that night.
I remember hiding in all kinds of places, and waiting... knowing that if he found someone else first, I'd be safer. If he found someone else first, I would hear the beating and the crying and screaming, and be scarred to death, but soon relieved, as I knew that he most likely was done, and didn't have the energy to keep looking for kids. And he'd go downstairs, and we'd slowly come out of our hiding places, and as quietly as possible, make our way back to our beds, and lay completely quiet until sleep finally came.
There is some guilty feelings there... guilt because of my feeling relief when hearing one of my siblings being beaten... The relief was because I felt safe now that he didn't find me, and most likely wouldn't. But I felt & feel guilty for being relieved at others pain. I remember the screams and cries and can still imagine them.
My siblings and I used to joke about this over the years. Jokes to minimize the effects. A way of safely venting the feelings about it. We no longer joke about it or talk about it. To this day, my dad seems absolutely oblivious to this joking, and has never acknowledged any of it. We'd sit at the table after thanksgiving dinner, and talk and joke about it. My dad sitting in the living room, with the TV set on, completely oblivious to what we were discussing. I'm sure he heard it, but blocked it out. Blocked it out to deal with his guilt. This was our passive-aggressive way of confronting him with it. Talking and joking about it safely, within his earshot.
Even typing this out brings tension and fear and adrenelin coursing through my body. I know that I need to take special care of myself today. I've never written about this before in my life, and what many people told me I would feel, I feel. I do feel good having written it out. Now there is fear and apprehension over the next step. What do I do next. I want to be heard. I will relax, and pray, and ask God to help me forgive, and understand and come to peace with this.
- Steve
Warning--- Possible trigger. Story of physical abuse. If you're not in a safe place, and stories of abuse may trigger you emotionally, don't continue.
Well, the physical abuse was rampant throughout my middle and late childhood. Both of my parents were my abusers, and later in my childhood, my oldest brother became my abuser. I have 3 brothers and 1 sister, and we were all physically abused, mostly by my father. My earliest memories of the physical abuse are at about age 9 or 10. This was about the time that my family moved to a larger, but less comfortable house. We all had to switch schools, and there was a great deal of tension and anxiety in our family, due to this transistion.
My father started drinking more, and the economy was really bad (~1978), and my parents were horribly stressed. But their reaction to that stress was to abuse and lash out at each other, and their children. The worst memories are of my fathers abuse. He would come home after work (and then working on my grandmothers farm) at about 7 or 8PM. He was tired and just wanted to sit in peace and quiet. But there were 5 kids in the house, so there isn't a lot of peace and quiet. He insisted on quiet, and as high energy little kids, with little to do in our small town, we were not silent. This would set him off. Our very presence was enough to agitate him to the point where he would chase us upstairs where he wouldn't have to hear us. Trouble was, what do 5 kids who've been chased to bed at 7 or 8 do? We talked and played upstairs... and we made noise. Usually not a lot of noise, just talking and moving around and playing. And he could hear every squeak of the floor, and every footstep, and it drove him crazy. He'd scream up the stairs a few times for us to be quiet, and we'd be quiet for a bit. But slowly, our nervous energy bubbled out, and we'd venture out a bit to talk and move from room to room and play.
It was a calculated risk everytime we took a step, because the floor might squeak, and a squeak might bring him charging up the stairs. And it did many times. All it would take would be a single footstep or floor-squeak at this point, for him to boil over. He was a control freak, and saw any child making noise when he told us to be quiet, as a personal insult and disobedience, and worthy of his rage. And his rage would boil over.
He would charge up the stairs... I still remember the sound... A loud thumping as he bounded up the stairs two or three at a time. We all knew what was coming, so we ran and hid in all sorts of places, and waited. Waited for what we knew was coming. He would charge up the stairs, and go looking for someone, anyone, to beat. And his favorite weapon was a belt... his leather belt.
The drill was, he'd find one kid, barging from room to room looking for an easy target. And he would grab that one kid, hold us by the arms, and beat us on the back or the legs with the belt. The pain was horrible and his frothing and raging made it all worse. A feeling that I was facing uncontrolled, possibly lethal, raw violence. But the strange thing was, he'd usually only find one... sometimes two kids to beat. Then his rage was satisfied, and he'd stomp back downstairs, and we'd not hear from him again that night.
I remember hiding in all kinds of places, and waiting... knowing that if he found someone else first, I'd be safer. If he found someone else first, I would hear the beating and the crying and screaming, and be scarred to death, but soon relieved, as I knew that he most likely was done, and didn't have the energy to keep looking for kids. And he'd go downstairs, and we'd slowly come out of our hiding places, and as quietly as possible, make our way back to our beds, and lay completely quiet until sleep finally came.
There is some guilty feelings there... guilt because of my feeling relief when hearing one of my siblings being beaten... The relief was because I felt safe now that he didn't find me, and most likely wouldn't. But I felt & feel guilty for being relieved at others pain. I remember the screams and cries and can still imagine them.
My siblings and I used to joke about this over the years. Jokes to minimize the effects. A way of safely venting the feelings about it. We no longer joke about it or talk about it. To this day, my dad seems absolutely oblivious to this joking, and has never acknowledged any of it. We'd sit at the table after thanksgiving dinner, and talk and joke about it. My dad sitting in the living room, with the TV set on, completely oblivious to what we were discussing. I'm sure he heard it, but blocked it out. Blocked it out to deal with his guilt. This was our passive-aggressive way of confronting him with it. Talking and joking about it safely, within his earshot.
Even typing this out brings tension and fear and adrenelin coursing through my body. I know that I need to take special care of myself today. I've never written about this before in my life, and what many people told me I would feel, I feel. I do feel good having written it out. Now there is fear and apprehension over the next step. What do I do next. I want to be heard. I will relax, and pray, and ask God to help me forgive, and understand and come to peace with this.
- Steve
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Being afraid to be happy
One of the biggest challenges that I've faced on my road to recovery is a fear of success, a fear of happiness. Several times on my journey, I have arrived at a point, a state of mind where I was happy, and contented, and full of energy and optimism. But each time this happened at first, it was very short lived.
As I began to start to live and enjoy life and be happy, old messages started playing in my head, and convinced me that I didn't DESERVE this, and to stop right now. What are these messages:
"You're being selfish."
"How can you be happy when there are others who are not... You don't deserve to be happy and enjoy your life and the happiness and contentment that you've earned.
"Don't show emotion, or your true self, it will only bring more pain, or ridicule"
"Don't enjoy this, it will be taken away"
"You're not good enough to have this life"
"Don't take any chances... you might make a mistake and be punished"
Where did these messages come from, I ask myself... They came from the abuse.... the physical abuse that I endured from my parents, that taught me that I was bad, that I was wrong, no matter what. This was re-inforced by the messages I was taught in my Catholic upbringing. These messages were:
"Do NOT be selfish ever" - And happiness was equated with selfishness. To be happy meant I was being selfish. To take care of myself in any way meant I was being selfish. I was depriving someone else of something if I took for my own needs.
"Obey and respect your father and mother" - (Even when they are abusive and do not show love, and are but children emotionally themselves?)
"Good behavior will result in being loved"
"Follow all of the commandments and do NOT sin, and you will be saved" - (Impossible for any human. Only God is perfect, WE all fall short.
All of these are messages of SHAME, designed to control, and keep children behaving as these adults would like us to behave. Whether or not the negative, shame based teachings given to me by the adults in my life we intentional, they all had the effect of keeping me in a prison of shame. I have wondered, how could people of God, priests and nuns... those who were to teach and show Gods love, so off the mark? Because THEY were fallible human beings!!! They had their own skewed perceptions, and their own ideas of what they thought was "right". Trouble is, they didn't know what was right. None of them were perfect. They honestly had NO idea the damage they were doing. Now, these same teachings, given to a child who had not been abused by his/her parents, would probably have been percieved by that child in a completely different way. A positive way... as a goal to strive for, not as further proof of condemnation.
But, I came from a family and parenting style that believed not that to "spare the rod is to spoil the child", but that when frustration and anger builds, the appropriate response is to blame someone around THEM, and vent the frustration, and control the source of frustration. To beat the child, who is percieved to be the problem, because that child is the closest being around, and therefor MUST be the problem. My father could NOT look at himself, and see that the problem was inside HIM, not inside his children. He never learned that he was a shame based person, and had been raised to believe those wrong messages. He still doesn't have that realization to this day... His psyche simply cannot deal with the fact that HE may have been wrong for 80 years.
And this, is where my fear of happiness and success came from. But I know this, and I have the realization that these messages were WRONG. I am good, I am worthy, I am deserving of happiness. I am NOT a mistake.
- Steve
As I began to start to live and enjoy life and be happy, old messages started playing in my head, and convinced me that I didn't DESERVE this, and to stop right now. What are these messages:
"You're being selfish."
"How can you be happy when there are others who are not... You don't deserve to be happy and enjoy your life and the happiness and contentment that you've earned.
"Don't show emotion, or your true self, it will only bring more pain, or ridicule"
"Don't enjoy this, it will be taken away"
"You're not good enough to have this life"
"Don't take any chances... you might make a mistake and be punished"
Where did these messages come from, I ask myself... They came from the abuse.... the physical abuse that I endured from my parents, that taught me that I was bad, that I was wrong, no matter what. This was re-inforced by the messages I was taught in my Catholic upbringing. These messages were:
"Do NOT be selfish ever" - And happiness was equated with selfishness. To be happy meant I was being selfish. To take care of myself in any way meant I was being selfish. I was depriving someone else of something if I took for my own needs.
"Obey and respect your father and mother" - (Even when they are abusive and do not show love, and are but children emotionally themselves?)
"Good behavior will result in being loved"
"Follow all of the commandments and do NOT sin, and you will be saved" - (Impossible for any human. Only God is perfect, WE all fall short.
All of these are messages of SHAME, designed to control, and keep children behaving as these adults would like us to behave. Whether or not the negative, shame based teachings given to me by the adults in my life we intentional, they all had the effect of keeping me in a prison of shame. I have wondered, how could people of God, priests and nuns... those who were to teach and show Gods love, so off the mark? Because THEY were fallible human beings!!! They had their own skewed perceptions, and their own ideas of what they thought was "right". Trouble is, they didn't know what was right. None of them were perfect. They honestly had NO idea the damage they were doing. Now, these same teachings, given to a child who had not been abused by his/her parents, would probably have been percieved by that child in a completely different way. A positive way... as a goal to strive for, not as further proof of condemnation.
But, I came from a family and parenting style that believed not that to "spare the rod is to spoil the child", but that when frustration and anger builds, the appropriate response is to blame someone around THEM, and vent the frustration, and control the source of frustration. To beat the child, who is percieved to be the problem, because that child is the closest being around, and therefor MUST be the problem. My father could NOT look at himself, and see that the problem was inside HIM, not inside his children. He never learned that he was a shame based person, and had been raised to believe those wrong messages. He still doesn't have that realization to this day... His psyche simply cannot deal with the fact that HE may have been wrong for 80 years.
And this, is where my fear of happiness and success came from. But I know this, and I have the realization that these messages were WRONG. I am good, I am worthy, I am deserving of happiness. I am NOT a mistake.
- Steve
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Reason #2
The second reason for starting this blog, is in the hope that someone else like me out there in the world, will be helped in some way by my testimony. Maybe someone else is doing what I was doing a year or so ago, trying to figure out why their life doesn't seem to work, and why they are having the same old problems with relationships and life.
And maybe this person will Google some blogs, and mine will pop up, and they can read and know that there are other people out there just like them, and that there is a way out of the same old patterns of failed relationship, failure and disappointment. Out of addictions and feeling alone, like we are different, and no one understands. Like we will be shamed or hurt or rejected if we bring our feelings about the abuse to the light of day. Out of the personal jail that we as abused people keep ourselves in.
Any form of child abuse is a horrible plague on our society. One that is truely a silent killer of souls, and of lives. Just because you physically survived an abusive childhood does not mean that you are free from it's affects. The affects last years, decades, a lifetime, if it is kept hidden away, and not addressed.
And how do you address it? First, by REALIZING that what happened to us when we were children (and many times continued into adulthood) was NOT normal. And it WASN'T our fault. We were taught wrong. That is the biggest, most time consuming step, in my opinion.
If you can identify with this, there is all kinds of help to free yourself from the prison... to be free of the chains that bind. Seek help... from a support group, literature, church, a therapist. They are all resources that I have used to help me understand. The healing, that we must do on our own, but it can be done... you can be free.
Imagine the life that you wish you had... it can be yours, and it WILL be yours someday. But the first step is the toughest, especially for us shame based people... To ask for help.
- Steve
And maybe this person will Google some blogs, and mine will pop up, and they can read and know that there are other people out there just like them, and that there is a way out of the same old patterns of failed relationship, failure and disappointment. Out of addictions and feeling alone, like we are different, and no one understands. Like we will be shamed or hurt or rejected if we bring our feelings about the abuse to the light of day. Out of the personal jail that we as abused people keep ourselves in.
Any form of child abuse is a horrible plague on our society. One that is truely a silent killer of souls, and of lives. Just because you physically survived an abusive childhood does not mean that you are free from it's affects. The affects last years, decades, a lifetime, if it is kept hidden away, and not addressed.
And how do you address it? First, by REALIZING that what happened to us when we were children (and many times continued into adulthood) was NOT normal. And it WASN'T our fault. We were taught wrong. That is the biggest, most time consuming step, in my opinion.
If you can identify with this, there is all kinds of help to free yourself from the prison... to be free of the chains that bind. Seek help... from a support group, literature, church, a therapist. They are all resources that I have used to help me understand. The healing, that we must do on our own, but it can be done... you can be free.
Imagine the life that you wish you had... it can be yours, and it WILL be yours someday. But the first step is the toughest, especially for us shame based people... To ask for help.
- Steve
Monday, November 5, 2007
Why I am posting this blog - Reason #1
I asked myself this question, and at first, I was assuming it was for completely unselfish reasons. Not True... There are 2 reasons that I'm creating this blog/record of my recovery.
The first reason admittedly, is for myself. I've learned from many people, and through experience, that simply admitting and accepting something is the first step to recovery. Yep, just as in AA, the first step is admitting there is a problem. So here it is. I have a problem. I have a problem that effects a great deal of my life in a negative way. This problem causes me difficulty in building and maintaining relationships. I find myself uncomfortable in many social and interpersonal situations, and in making decisions about life. This problem has everything to do with my own self-image. I feel that I'm not good enough, like there is something wrong with me that makes me unable to say or express what I really feel or want to say. What seems so easy for many others, is difficult for me, and sometimes completely impossible. This comes from the shame inside of me.
Shame
The shame began for me at age 7 or so, when the really bad abuse started in my life. I was abused verbally, physically, and emotionally by both of my parents. And the result of the abuse at that time, even though I wasn't consious of it, was to leave me with a sense that I was bad. I think that the most damaging abuse that I encountered was the random abuse. Not based on any serious bad behavior on my (or my siblings) part. It was a rage that was inside my father, that he chose (consiously or unconsiously) to disippate by blaming and beating a child. The random and unjust nature of the beatings left me with an uncounsious feeling that I deserved it simply because I existed. Not because of what I had done, but because I existed. Hence the shame, the reinforced message that I was bad.
Rage
Then there is the childhood rage. I have little or no memory of the rage that I must have felt then... was it blocked, because there was no outlet for this rage? The sub-consious rage at the injustice of being randomly beaten. I must have known subconciously that I didn't deserve these beatings, but I had no awareness or skills or resources to deal with the rage of the injustice, so it turned inward. Combine this rage with shame, and you have a recipe for self-destruction. Once this shame and rage is established, it perpetuates and reinforces itself in self destructive behaviors. How did this manifest for me? From what I remember, it manifested in aversion to and withdraw from social situations, (eg: shyness). This left me more isolated, and with that, the feeling that I was not accepted. I couldn't see that my BEHAVIOR... not talking much or being open and honest (eg:not CONNECTING) with many other kids is what caused my isolation, and feelings of not being accepted. Repeat for years and years with the same, now reinforced outcome.
I was a shy kid, with a couple of really good friends, but the friendships were not deep, and were sometimes hurtful to me, because I was ashamed of my dysfunctional family. and some close friends would tease or ridicule me for that sometimes obvious dysfunction. And what did I do about the teasing? Nothing, because I believed it was deserved, and was about ME, not about the situation.
But I was lucky... lucky to have a few good, unconditionally loving people around me. If not for those people, who knows where my life (and those of my siblings) would have gone.
And I was blessed by God with a brain, and a smart one at that. One that allowed me to cling to some semblance of self worth that got me into an outwardly successful adulthood, where I would find the tools, support, people, self-awareness, and resources to understand that I AM good, and that my shame is a part of who I am, not WHO I am.
More next week!
The first reason admittedly, is for myself. I've learned from many people, and through experience, that simply admitting and accepting something is the first step to recovery. Yep, just as in AA, the first step is admitting there is a problem. So here it is. I have a problem. I have a problem that effects a great deal of my life in a negative way. This problem causes me difficulty in building and maintaining relationships. I find myself uncomfortable in many social and interpersonal situations, and in making decisions about life. This problem has everything to do with my own self-image. I feel that I'm not good enough, like there is something wrong with me that makes me unable to say or express what I really feel or want to say. What seems so easy for many others, is difficult for me, and sometimes completely impossible. This comes from the shame inside of me.
Shame
The shame began for me at age 7 or so, when the really bad abuse started in my life. I was abused verbally, physically, and emotionally by both of my parents. And the result of the abuse at that time, even though I wasn't consious of it, was to leave me with a sense that I was bad. I think that the most damaging abuse that I encountered was the random abuse. Not based on any serious bad behavior on my (or my siblings) part. It was a rage that was inside my father, that he chose (consiously or unconsiously) to disippate by blaming and beating a child. The random and unjust nature of the beatings left me with an uncounsious feeling that I deserved it simply because I existed. Not because of what I had done, but because I existed. Hence the shame, the reinforced message that I was bad.
Rage
Then there is the childhood rage. I have little or no memory of the rage that I must have felt then... was it blocked, because there was no outlet for this rage? The sub-consious rage at the injustice of being randomly beaten. I must have known subconciously that I didn't deserve these beatings, but I had no awareness or skills or resources to deal with the rage of the injustice, so it turned inward. Combine this rage with shame, and you have a recipe for self-destruction. Once this shame and rage is established, it perpetuates and reinforces itself in self destructive behaviors. How did this manifest for me? From what I remember, it manifested in aversion to and withdraw from social situations, (eg: shyness). This left me more isolated, and with that, the feeling that I was not accepted. I couldn't see that my BEHAVIOR... not talking much or being open and honest (eg:not CONNECTING) with many other kids is what caused my isolation, and feelings of not being accepted. Repeat for years and years with the same, now reinforced outcome.
I was a shy kid, with a couple of really good friends, but the friendships were not deep, and were sometimes hurtful to me, because I was ashamed of my dysfunctional family. and some close friends would tease or ridicule me for that sometimes obvious dysfunction. And what did I do about the teasing? Nothing, because I believed it was deserved, and was about ME, not about the situation.
But I was lucky... lucky to have a few good, unconditionally loving people around me. If not for those people, who knows where my life (and those of my siblings) would have gone.
And I was blessed by God with a brain, and a smart one at that. One that allowed me to cling to some semblance of self worth that got me into an outwardly successful adulthood, where I would find the tools, support, people, self-awareness, and resources to understand that I AM good, and that my shame is a part of who I am, not WHO I am.
More next week!
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