All the Light we Cannot See (2014), Anthony Doerr
Ugly Truth 89: Being Unseen
All the Light we Cannot See (2014), Anthony Doerr
Category: Relationships
All the Light we Cannot See (2014), Anthony Doerr
Ugly Truth 65: I am Slow to Forgive
― Francis Quarles
Dear Readers,
True to my Scorpio nature I am slow to forgiveness, if I ever arrive at all. I only wish I had connected the dots sooner. Somehow, betrayal has slipped by with its crushing blows, and I lacked the insight I generally have to adhere my thoughts and feelings to my behavior. As a result, I believe I exposed myself to re-traumatization far more than what is necessary for growth. For what it’s worth I thought it was pertinent to share this ugly truth to connect with others who are unafraid to draw those hard black lines in the sand.
Much of spiritual practice and therapeutic work will promote forgiveness. Advocates of forgiveness often preach that forgiveness is for you, not the other person, that holding onto hurt is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. While poetic, I find this to be an illusion of the greater good. The truth is sincere forgiveness begins with the kind of acknowledgement that most people are too prideful to provide.
When I am on the receiving end of a pointed and contemptuous discourtesy, I see no reason to keep the door open. As a survivalist I am inclined to disallow the pathway for further anguish. I have greatly distanced myself from many people and while the grief is real, the longing even, the truth is I have no problem with being alone. I believe most people do and therein lies the sentiment of settling for less than we deserve. Far too many stay in patterns of behavior that are harmful simply because they are familiar and pale in comparison to being alone. I suppose humans are creatures of community and filled with potential, but I have always been one to prefer my inner circle to a hand full of half hearted acquaintances. In my thirty-second year I see little to no reason to carve out new relationships or neuropathways. I suspect some may think it being stuck in my ways, but my perspective has shifted over the years. My boundaries demonstrate self-love, growth, and the desperate attempts of reconciliation I will no longer tolerate. The truth is I wasn’t always this way.
In my early years I was a sun reaching wildflower with no barriers or regret to speak of. I even prided myself on my capacity for unconditional love and always felt that the risk was worth it. Sooner or later though, I was hurt by those I had come to trust one too many times and found myself unwilling to engage any further. When you are abused, abandoned, or cheated by parents, partners, or friends it hardens even the softest of hearts. Disloyalty hits with the reality that no one is going to protect you but you, that humans are inherently selfish and self-serving, and invariably will disappoint you. I have written in the past about the power of apology, but even that philosophy is beginning to fade around the edges. While painfully wisdomous, apology unaccompanied by a change in behavior is just manipulation.
When one receives my good graces, my love and loyalty are intense, without question, and I expect the same in return. I used to think forgiveness a noble quality, but now only find it foolish. As I grow older, I find myself less compromising in my convictions and unwilling to put myself in harm’s way. I have found that even when I have managed to forgive and rebuild, things are never quite the same which creates its very own odd and prolonged sense of distress. I swore that I would never be like my father, but here I am, more avoidant than ever before. Today, I am more likely to preserve my energy, and seek within my own sanctuary than outside of it.
I am a passionate person who feels deeply with an insatiable appetite for the intellectual and spiritual alike. My curiosity for others is evidently boundless, and my loyalty is unapologetic. When I do grow close to others who seek to better understand who I am with genuine interest and matched vulnerability, I am elated to protect and reciprocate that with the understanding that forging a bond later in life often becomes more difficult. When I am met with immature antagonists, however, my resentment grows like fire and any attempt to communicate further is met with silence. At the heart of my mental illness, I am frightened by the grief and anger that I generate and am still unable to determine if being misunderstood is worse than being betrayed.
I used to settle for people, parents, and partners who didn’t deserve me. Like so many of us who suffer from naiveté, I fantasized about loving them well or fixing them. I daydreamed about the power of change and was easily excited to learn how to become a catalyst. I longed to become a soft place to land and made excuses for those who struggled to express themselves properly. I went so far as to pursue a career in psychology before my school of thought shifted. I lacked the strength to overcome influence, suffered compassion fatigue, and the moment I found my voice I was deemed psychotic. If being unwilling to absorb and internalize mistreatment makes me appear to be cold or unreasonable, then so be it. Alternately, insanity is defined by doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.
I am fortunate in that my introversion spares me the need to feed off others. When faced with the choice between a person or a book, it is a no-brainer. I do not require social support, friendly meandering, familial gathering, team building, group engagement, or collective understanding. While I much prefer romantic entanglements, at this stage in my life I am much more likely to want than to need. I do not deny that trauma has no doubt impacted my attachment style. My own mother has noticed and has confessed to me her resentment of this fact. The truth is at the age of eighteen I far surpassed my parents and peers in emotional intelligence and struck out on my own. In many ways I learned to never need anyone, that people are unreliable. I struggled just as much as the next independent striver to shed my beginnings and while it took me a great deal of time, I learned and continue to learn.
The truth is we all have expectations that often go unmet and while compromise is important, so too is accountability. We teach others how to love us and if you find yourself unwilling to budge on certain things, do your best not to fall into the trap of guilt. Inherently good people will always be rewarded for their genuine efforts and interactions. Still, let me be the first to tell you that you need not forgive everyone who ever hurt you. A certain level of caution should be attributed to the level of deception. The truth is righteous anger is a useful function of self-preservation, and there are some duplicities that exceed forgiveness. Perhaps the greatest lesson of all is learning how to discern those worth suffering for.
Discussion: What are your opinions on forgiveness?
For more excellent insight and entertainment through a collaborative approach to all things mental health, including a guest post from yours truly, visit the Blunt Therapy Blog by Randy Withers, LPC! For additional perspectives on suicide prevention from master level mental health providers visit, 20 Professional Therapists Share Their Thoughts on Suicide!
In collaboration with Luis Posso, an Outreach Specialist from DrugRehab.com, Deskraven is now offering guides on depression and suicide prevention to its readers. For more information on understanding the perils of addiction visit, Substance Abuse and Suicide: A Guide to Understanding the Connection and Reducing Risk! In addition, for a comprehensive depression resource guide from their sister project at Columbus Recovery Center visit, Dealing with Depression!
Ugly Truth 64: Self Development can Break the Cycle of Generational Trauma
― Bonnie Badenoch, The Heart of Trauma: Healing the Embodied Brain in the Context of Relationships
Dear Readers,
I was fifteen the first time I tried to kill myself. It wasn’t until I became a mother myself that I began to understand the impact of generational trauma. My family history is littered with abuse, addiction, mental illness, prostitution, and suicide. We name these things in an attempt to develop some sense of language around difficult topics. Very often, however, communication proves to be a delicate and triggering experience. The truth is generational trauma runs deep and can take a great deal of work and time to unravel. I am the first to admit my imperfections, and yet my confidence never falters for two reasons. One, my father instilled self-esteem in me early and often. Even if his behavior didn’t always reflect his words, it seemed to be enough of a cushion to soften the blow of a troubled adolescence. And two, with a great deal of distance and self-development I managed to break the cycle for my own son. It has been a winding road riddled with mistakes and wrong turns. The truth is I still suffer from suicidal ideation on an almost daily basis. Indeed, any great sense of stress or overwhelm makes the impulse feel rational. The difference is I have developed the pathology necessary to comprehend that this is no longer an option.
I was born six weeks early to a young mother with her own troubling circumstances. Admittedly, our bond was severed long ago but I always maintain the utmost compassion for all that she has endured in life. While she feels more like a friend than a mother, we are trauma bonded in a way that allows us to understand one another while saying very little. For as long as I can remember, my parents were never together. My mother went on to make several failing attempts to cover her wounds by chasing her white picket fence and marrying men that fell far below the threshold of what she needed or deserved. My father embraced bachelorhood and has only recently started dating again. Both continue to compete in some weird way for my affection while talking poorly about the other. Psychology 101 will teach you that this generates self contempt and self blame in the childhood heart.
Very early in life I suffered from several health issues as a result of my pre-mature arrival. I had to sleep sitting up for much of my childhood and missed many days of school. I was sent home with a heart monitor that would sound alarm every time my heart stopped. I suffered from many things that my mother was not equipped to treat or understand, and my mental health was no different. Understandably, adoption was also considered given the circumstances of my birth which I can’t help but feel curious about. Early on I realized just how alone I was with everything that I was facing. Still, I can’t permit myself to resent someone who did the best they could with what they had at the time. My mother was a victim of many abuses which no doubt impacted her own motherhood while my father was a victim of loss and abandonment. Needless to say, both were passed down to me in a very telling and suggestive manner.
My temperament has always been quiet and reserved with a sense of silliness I still appreciate to this day. Being exposed to early childhood trauma drove me further inward, and by the time I was fifteen I was clinically diagnosed with depression, paranoia, and panic disorder. As revealed in my previous posts, I was a child of every form of abuse, abandonment and domestic violence that one can imagine that would go on to reflect in my choice of partners for many years to come. What’s interesting is the way children of abuse seem to internalize everything, including the suffering of others, without even having a word for it. My family is broken and blended in many ways, but this does not make me special. Unfortunately, these dynamics are common and many of them exceed my own dark night of the soul. The difference is the fact that I did something about it with no guidance. Another key component is that I continue to combat the stigma that keeps us silent for way too long. Previous generations were highly conditioned to dismiss these topics. Hopefully our children will be well rounded enough to mention hard personal truths at their own dinner table.
Before my son was born, I was on the fast track to end my life. I lived in a state of passive suicidality which meant that when I wasn’t making active plans or attempts, I was engaging in risk taking behavior with no barriers or concern for the outcome. The truth is I put myself on the path to self-destruction and did not expect to live past my twenties. I chose partners that were no good for anyone while partaking in self injury, drug use, and disordered eating. I was very impulsive and frankly irresponsible. My performance in school demonstrates a recorded rapid decline during this time in my life. I received no redirection and made no plans for the future.
By the time I was nineteen I had become perfectly reckless, shrank to half my size, had zero regard for human life, and nearly died in a pool of blood more than once. I am truly grateful for the friends I had during this time. They always seemed to pull me from my own ashes and without them I may very well not be here today. Deep suffering has the potential to produce sincere insight, and mine was no different. I would eagerly fill the pages of my journal with soul binding grief and mediocre poetry. I was notoriously bad at reaching out and so continued to fight the resources being given to me. My first psychiatric hospitalization did nothing for me but acute crisis intervention. The diagnoses, medication, and support systems I left with were all wrong and so my well-being was no more reinforced than it was before.
By the time my grandfather took his own life, we were all fragile little pieces of something that resembled a family portrait. Soon, what little stability we had fell away, extended families divorced, and all of the children were scattered to the wind. We developed our own coping skills, although I would hardly call them skills. I, being the oldest, was no better at leading by example. By the time I was twenty I had formed a serious drug habit and accumulated a minor criminal record. I was more confused than ever about my sexuality and had a hell of a time coming to grips with the fact that I was gay. I was suffering through verbal abuse and miscommunication with my first female partner and had come to a crossroads in my employment. My siblings developed clinical anxiety, depression and suicidal impulses of their own while my mother turned to alcoholism. My uncle relapsed in his sobriety and dropped a heartbreaking amount of weight after his wife left him for another man who was a convicted sexual predator. Their children, two sisters, turned to alcoholism and drug use. Both are in and out of treatment to this day, and one of them sustained a six-month hospitalization after receiving an official diagnosis of Schizophrenia. When I ask my last living grandparent about her parents she often speaks of a cold mother and a warm father, as well as the questionable behavior of her siblings and other relatives.
Many of us have died along the way, although a small percentage of my family members have managed to rebuild and break the cycle of our family history. Some have been strong and loyal enough to stay near the town where I was born believing whole heartedly that family is everything. However, I knew getting away was the only way for me to heal. I have long adhered to a philosophy of chosen family for my own protection and sanity. I have always been a terribly sensitive soul and I knew that over exposure to my family would be too triggering for me to gain any real footing in my recovery. Fifteen years later I am only now growing strong enough to tolerate those memories and I still haven’t been home in ten years. Navigating tragedy is one of the hardest things one can do. While many feel stronger with a sense of community, I always found myself on the fringes of society, a lone wolf who didn’t quite belong. To this day I am often alone, but never lonely.
I am not proud to say that this was my state of mind when my son was unintentionally conceived in a hotel room a few months later. His father is someone I had come to know and care for, but the pregnancy was a result of his incessant inability to respect my rejection. In my altered state the news was a shocking blow, but I also knew it was going to save my life. On my twenty-first birthday I learned I was pregnant and soon after everything changed. Amid my shock and awe, my body became the temple vessel of another being and not one decision I made after that was made without him in mind.
I quit smoking. I got sober. I started eating healthy balanced meals and exercising. I started building a family structure around me that was wholesome and supportive. I avoided sugar and caffeine and meat. I moved back home and was taken in by extended family with the promise of protection. I did it all. However, once the dust settled and I had fallen into my newly defined routines, I found that those deep-seated issues that I had been self-medicating came burning to the surface of my psyche.
I was hit hard by post-partum depression and soon found myself turning back to self-injury in various ways, both physical and chemical. I am not proud of it, but it’s the truth. Staring into my baby’s beautiful blue eyes I knew I had it in me to do better for him. And for the first time in my life, I wanted better for myself. I was fortunate in that his father was harmless and mostly supportive. He has been one of the few good men in my life, however, his denial of my mental illness made it clear to me that I was going to have to navigate this alone.
The first year was very successful for me. I began consuming every early childhood education and self-help resource I could find. After all, I knew what not to do, but knew nothing of what to do instead. I threw myself into university and spent the next five years as a preschool teacher in order to stay close to my son. I always had a great deal of anxiety passing his care off to someone else and knew this was the best path for me. It would ensure access, discounted childcare rates, and education regarding parenting and childhood development.
Just when things started making sense, I suffered through a family member’s near-death experience that only emboldened my PTSD in my son’s second year. I know for sure that I made many motherly mistakes during this time, but I hadn’t lost all fight yet. I continued to eat well, strengthened my yoga practice, and continued consuming every book with characteristic immoderation. I learned a great deal about abnormal psychology that year and finally connected my seemingly eternal grief with the fact that I loved women. I found relief in meditation and finally informed the father of my child of my truth. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done considering I had always dreamed of giving my son the sense of family structure that I never had. His father wanted to fight the good fight, but at the end of the day my own father reminded me that my life would not have been necessarily better if my parents had raised me together. He reminded me that I deserved to be happy. My acceptance was still only halfhearted though, as I went on to marry another man one year later.
I suppressed greatly the fact that I was gay and the additional suffering I imposed on myself lead to some of my most significant symptoms of mental illness. Within six months I was experiencing full blown paranoid psychosis and was making plans yet again to end my life. And yet again I went inpatient, this time at a psychiatric facility specializing in mental health treatment. Believe me when I say that repressed sexuality is very dangerous for everyone involved.
Despite my mother’s rejection and my father’s disbelief, I knew I had to come to grips with my truth and learn how to execute it tactfully without fearing the outcome. So, once more I worked the program absorbing everything I could. My first marriage quickly dissolved shortly thereafter. During this time, I remained close to the family I worked for and was properly diagnosed and medicated for the first time in my life. The chaos was quieting, but I also felt a creeping suspicion in my spine. I knew that my poor management was no doubt impacting my son and that soon he would be forming memories. I knew that it was time to figure how to cope or I was going to die.
After coming out and entering the LGBTQIA+ community for the third and final time, I felt much of the weight had lifted. I had female lovers throughout the years, but this was the first time I was living out loud. I can recall the very moment I knew I was never going back. All I had left to do now was sift through my trauma once and for all.
I began consuming all things psychological and philosophical. Fortunately, I had always been a gifted student, a fact that lends itself well to the idea that there’s a spark of genius in mental illness. I found comfort in the writings of Buddha and once more rejected the Christianity that no longer served me. I found peace in the rituals of Islam and prayer. I found healing in various forms of self-actualization by understanding my own hierarchy of needs. I learned more about how and why my triggers function and found new and effective ways to cope with stress. I found the strength to reinforce every pillar of wisdom I came across and applied it to my life in a practical way. Perhaps most pertinent, I learned that some things just never fully heal, and we learn to carry the pain we’re forever changed by.
Furthermore, I learned that I was unconditionally loving, trusting, possessive and protective. I learned how to embrace my true Scoprio nature and recognize that not all intense traits are bad traits. I learned about boundaries and found strength in my seemingly endless sensitivity. I learned about self-love and how to fill the gap when external variables fall short. I received confirmation in my own son’s development that not every part of good in me had died, and that I was worth saving.
I learned that bad things happen to good people and just how important it is to take accountability when we feel victimized. I learned the power of collective storytelling and processing through the written word. I learned about my disdain for small talk and the bullshit social barriers that we build. I learned humility and the power of apology. I learned how to heal and release generational trauma. I learned how to protect my son from my own family while also allowing him to know them. I learned how to speak candidly about hard things.
I learned how to generate and engineer the relationships I desire, and the importance of genuine interactions. I learned the value of honest conversations with children and partners. I learned the importance of giving people the opportunity to surprise you in the face of disappointment. I learned what I will and will not tolerate. I learned how to develop a platform and use my voice. I learned how not to apologize for executing my truth and following through on my deal breakers. I learned how imperative loyalty is to me and that forgiveness comes slow, if at all. I learned that betrayal is non-negotiable.
I learned how to use my knowledge to counsel those I encounter on a similar path. I learned about spirituality and embraced the belief that planet earth is solely for suffering and learning how to choose love over fear in all things. I learned that I have an obsessive-compulsive personality as a result of my trauma and that control is a fallacy. I learned that I do have the power to change in a way that will truly serve my children’s children.
Today, my wife and I nurture the foundation of a beautiful, blended family. She has walked her own path that produced an unexpected daughter and feels similarly grateful. She has also encountered her own mental health struggles. This shared experience caused us to bond in a way that almost feels unreal and is reflected in our shared family values. Together we have loved every moment of watching our children learn, adapt, and grow through opportunities that we never had. We have reveled in providing them and each other with the peaceful home that we always longed for. We are different enough to keep things interesting and love learning about healthy relationship development together. The truth is that family legacies have the potential to improve with each passing generation and we all have the ability to influence meaningful change.
Discussion: What have you learned from your parents that you are implementing differently for your children?
For more excellent insight and entertainment through a collaborative approach to all things mental health, including a guest post from yours truly, visit the Blunt Therapy Blog by Randy Withers, LPC! For additional perspectives on suicide prevention from master level mental health providers visit, 20 Professional Therapists Share Their Thoughts on Suicide!
In collaboration with Luis Posso, an Outreach Specialist from DrugRehab.com, Deskraven is now offering guides on depression and suicide prevention to its readers. For more information on understanding the perils of addiction visit, Substance Abuse and Suicide: A Guide to Understanding the Connection and Reducing Risk! In addition, for a comprehensive depression resource guide from their sister project at Columbus Recovery Center visit, Dealing with Depression!
Ugly Truth 58: The Teachings of Adversarial Love
-Clemantine Wamariya
Dear Readers,
Welcome back to the Deskraven Blog where we unearth the ugly truths of mental illness as it relates to life, love, and happiness.
In my spiritual quest to process and release the trauma that binds us all I began to learn about the lasting impact relationship injury can have on future intimacy, as well as the soul contracts we may not even realize we’re tangled up in. In general, insecurity is not a personality trait of mine, but recently I have been feeling more of it so it prompted me to look inward.
In examining my past relationships I realized they all hurt me in their own way, and I no doubt casted my own pain toward them. Indeed, no one escapes companionship unthwarted. While seeking out my relationship patterns I noticed they would invariably come to an end around the two year mark like some sick clockwork. Likewise, I found myself chasing the unobtainable, often seeking those who lacked a promising foundation, let alone mutual respect and reciprocity.
My current relationship offers a stark contrast to control dynamics and the threat of an invariable end, and yet I found myself soaking in a tearful uncertainty as if past transgressions were any indication of what the future may hold. A large part of therapeutic work involves accepting the good that is being offered to you without question, however, I find value in dismantling previously held beliefs that result from mistreatment. Am I deserving of love? Am I capable of sustaining another blow? Do I have unresolved hurt? The answer to all of these is a resounding yes.
True love is passionately engaging, but more importantly it is practical and mature. It never seeks to harm, create jealousy, or endorse possessiveness. Love remains the most written about subject in music, film, art, and other areas of the creative industry. Even the Bible offers a famous and promising passage: love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth.
Within my reflection I found a most reoccurring theme of fear that surfaced as a product of hate, manipulation, infidelity, trauma, and abuse. In the past I was consistently exposed to lying, cheating, stealing partners. Partners who tore me down. Partners who informed me of my inadequacy, my inability to communicate, and left me with the kind of manipulative circular reasoning that would make even the most sound mind question her sanity. Partners who indicated to me I would be nothing without them. Partners who physically restrained and abused me. Partners who resorted to name calling and weaponized my vulnerability. Partners who robbed me of my peace of mind, my sound sleep, and my financial stability. Partners who slit their wrists in front of me.
In the face of adversarial love I found that when I wasn’t being abandoned, I was being told on a regular basis that I was unreliable, insufficient, and incorrect – and maybe I was. I had a lot of work to do. In learning how relationships serve as a reflection of self, it became apparent that my self worth was greatly suffering. The truth is we accept the love we think we deserve, and we teach others how to treat us, indirectly or otherwise. Clearly, I needed to raise my bar in more ways than one.
Fortunately, my first liberation in mindfulness work was learning that being less controlling in how we love allows the experience itself to take precedence over the fear of it passing. In a world where autonomy has only recently become desirable, the most radical thing we can learn is the fact that true reassurance lies in the space we provide our loved ones to choose us everyday, not in the ugly jealous strides we make to exert our possession over them.
My mind can rationalize the hurt I’ve endured, and the way it contributes to my behavior. I have had to rebuild and relearn my own definitions of healthy relationship dynamics as they relate to trust, intimacy, and devotion. I have had to tap into those areas of my life that exist apart from my partner, and begin to nurture them in order to be a more loving and less wounded human. The heart and body are different creatures, however. They keep score – and if you’re not careful to grieve properly – the wound will spread to other major organs. Healing from relationship trauma begins with setting hard fast boundaries that allow you to insulate yourself long enough to do the work. Take ownership of your well-being with the understanding that no one can do it for you. Remember you are safe and capable of creating lasting change in your life. Remember the ability to discern between the idea of something, the memory of it, and the reality of it.
Sadly, many people would rather be abused than be alone. I think it’s safe to say we have all fallen for the idea or concept someone is offering us, even if the reality of it is littered with red flags. Likewise, human memory is inherently faulty. You must consider the possibility that the way you remember things, especially traumatic things, isn’t the way it went. We tend to remember how we felt during an experience rather than the experience itself. I would be the first to admit I have turned to others to validate my memories for me, and it has been very helpful.
Ultimately, you should never go into any kind of relationship that asks you to compromise fundamental parts of yourself, or your ability to communicate them effectively. While no relationship is perfect, your heart will never seek to change or fix the right partner. While some work is required in every union, there should also be equal parts natural flow – that space that allows you to rest in the love and peace you’ve created for one another – free from doubt, stress, and drama.
Finally, the spiritual perspective teaches us about the potential for soul mates and twin flames. The idea is that they are sent by our higher self for our own soul’s growth and development. There is a lot to unpack here, but that is another Blog for another day. For now, ponder all that you have learned from those who have hurt you the most. It may feel impossible, but seek out the value of your suffering. Our perpetrators have the potential to be our greatest teachers.
True love is a victory march, not a sprint or a competition. Do not let your past overcome your successes, or cause a great dividing disservice to your current life. It is important to honor your grief, even your regret, but don’t allow it to take up residence with what you value now. Don’t allow the actions (or inactions) of others to invent dissatisfaction or breed contempt in your relationship. Whenever I catch myself slipping, all I have to do is look at her – and remember the way she casts the very light I could never manifest for myself on my most ambitious days. Oozing with gratitude never fails me.
Discuss: How has your past impacted your current relationship? What is your communication like with your partner? What lessons have you learned from those who have betrayed you?
For more excellent insight and entertainment through a collaborative approach to all things mental health, including a guest post from yours truly, visit the Blunt Therapy Blog by Randy Withers, LPC! For additional perspectives on suicide prevention from master level mental health providers visit, 20 Professional Therapists Share Their Thoughts on Suicide!
In collaboration with Luis Posso, an Outreach Specialist from DrugRehab.com, Deskraven is now offering guides on depression and suicide prevention to its readers. For more information on understanding the perils of addiction visit, Substance Abuse and Suicide: A Guide to Understanding the Connection and Reducing Risk! In addition, for a comprehensive depression resource guide from their sister project at Columbus Recovery Center visit, Dealing with Depression!
Ugly Truth 50: 4 Ways to Forgive an Abusive Parent
“I also believe that parents, if they love you, will hold you up safely, above their swirling waters, and sometimes that means you’ll never know what they endured, and you may treat them unkindly, in a way you otherwise wouldn’t.”
― Mitch Albom, For One More Day
Dear Readers,
I wrote about my parents in a previous post titled, Ugly Truth 45: Life Will Break You. In it, I unveil all of the heartfelt hurt and truth we share, and how I learned to move forward. I used to think parenting was simple. As I grew into my motherhood, however, I learned nothing is more complex than parenting and family dynamics. In general, most of us need to feel we’re loved, we’re accepted as we are, and our parents are proud of us to grow into resilient productive beings. We generalize our own sense of self worth as a result of the treatment we’re given. Furthermore, we are asked simultaneously to discover just who we are apart from that.
In my first year of college I learned about “tabula rasa,” better known as the “Blank Slate Theory” brought forth by an English philosopher named John Locke who expanded on an idea suggested by Aristotle in the fourth century B.C.. Essentially, this theory suggests all children are born as white boards and their parents hold the markers. That is, we are shaped by our environment. While the Blank Slate Theory is half true, I take issue with the fact that it fails to take our autonomy into account. Certainly we are all born with predispositions and temperaments, regardless of our environment. Surly we inherit personality traits, our quickness to anger, and shared interests genetically. Therefore, the answer to the Nature versus Nurture debate is yes. With that being said, it stands to reason why some people cope better as adults while others fall into addiction. Likewise, it explains why some believe abuse and suicide are acceptable while others would never behave in such a manner.
As children, we hope to emulate our caregivers. In adolescence, we’re more likely to judge them when faced with the fact that our belief system may be different from theirs. As adults, we seek to understand and are quicker to offer up compassion, primarily when faced with our own independence and the humbling experience of our own parenthood.
How then does that translate when abuse takes place? Is there something to be gained other than mistrust and resentment by hearing them out? What happens when the confrontation fails to yield accountability or even acknowledgement on their part? Apology remains the most promising way to rebuild a damaged relationship, but more often than not that doesn’t happen. While immensely helpful, the truth is we don’t need an apology to heal because sincere forgiveness remains an equally powerful alternative.
Maya Khamala at Goal Cast offers 4 solutions on how to forgive your abusers when they’re not sorry.
1.) Accept and acknowledge all the reason’s you’re angry – Make peace with what happened, how you feel, and their response to your confrontation should you choose to go that route.
2.) Write a letter – Get it down in writing. You may decide to share it or keep it to yourself.
3.) Get Physical – Exercise helps us better manage emotional distress.
4.) Seek Therapy – Every person on planet earth can benefit from some well spun therapy, especially during experiences that bring trauma to the surface. Don’t be afraid to seek extra support.
If you or someone you love is in a dangerous situation, please see below to contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline, available 24/7.
For more excellent insight and entertainment through a collaborative approach to all things mental health, including a guest post from yours truly, visit the Blunt Therapy Blog by Randy Withers, LPC! For additional perspectives on suicide prevention from master level mental health providers visit, 20 Professional Therapists Share Their Thoughts on Suicide!
In collaboration with Luis Posso, an Outreach Specialist from DrugRehab.com, Deskraven is now offering guides on depression and suicide prevention to its readers. For more information on understanding the perils of addiction visit, Substance Abuse and Suicide: A Guide to Understanding the Connection and Reducing Risk! In addition, for a comprehensive depression resource guide from their sister project at Columbus Recovery Center visit, Dealing with Depression!
Deskraven 