When I use this term, I’m most definitely not talking about some sort of spell. However, if that’s the case, I need to know who did it. We need to have a few “words” outside. Moving on! What I’m actually talking about when I use this term is Generational Trauma. Growing up for me was extremely confusing and VERY traumatic (without me even realizing it at the time), and it only got worse as I got older. As I learned and witnessed more, I began to realize how “bad” things really were. At the same time, it was incomprehensible in my mind. I did not handle things well for many years. To say I was furious was an understatement.
Every family is different in its own way. Until a certain age, regardless of how a family is, it’s normal to you. It’s all you know. It’s all I knew. I remember my first sleep over was for a friend’s birthday. I was six years old. When it was time for bed, she hugged and kissed her mom and dad goodnight, and said “I love you.” I stopped dead in my tracks. I got physically sick I was so scared. Thinking back at what was going through my head, “What’s she doing?! She’s going to get in trouble!” I had a full blown panic attack(except I didn’t pass out this time). Panic attacks to the point of passing out were normal for me from about four years old, until I was an adult and learned what was wrong with me and why. I was stunned when I found out about mental conditions, then mind blown when I found out there were treatments….at eighteen years old! Moral of the story, affection wasn’t allowed in my home and mental health wasn’t a thing to be acknowledged.
At this point, you may think I had “bad parents.” That wasn’t the case at all. Long story short for another time, I was adopted by older relatives in my family. When I refer to my parents at any time, I’m speaking of my adoptive ones. I mean it when I say this, they did the best they could. Honestly, they rescued me. However, at their age, they should not have been put in that situation. They were ill-equipped to raise another child, let alone, one who had come from the situation I was coming from.
Psychological, emotional family abuse and dysfunction are often accepted and ignored. Family history repeats itself. That “normal” repeats itself. This didn’t start with my parents, and I know that now. I hold no resentment. Regardless of how they feel towards me, I love, appreciate, and am thankful for them trying. They did so many things for so many people, when truthfully, they didn’t have to. I’m not the only child’s life they saved. If anything, I feel terrible for them and their situation. Two things about me: I’ve got a soft spot for the elderly, and I absolutely HATE child abusers. That may seem like normal things, but I have much more reason behind those two things that’ll eventually come out over the course of my blogs. To say the least, I get very “passionate” when it comes to those situations.
So, what happens when children who come from dysfunctional homes become adults? Well, it can go a few different ways. One, they will simply repeat the only dynamic they’ve ever known when it comes to partners and/or parenting their own children. It will go unseen to most, but be felt very deeply. The same behaviors, abuse, neglect, whatever it may be will be endless for these. That being said, every so often there comes along the children who go the opposite direction.
Let me introduce child number two. The one that is able to see the reality of the situation and essentially say, “f**k this!” Hi! That one normally requires a bit of therapy due to what follows. It’s painful and agonizing, but I can tell you it’s all worth it knowing my kids will NEVER have to experience anything I did. Your family will not understand any of your choices or behaviors. The years of memories are completely invalidated. You’re made out to be some monster who’s purposely trying to cause conflict. You’re called crazy, psychotic, unstable, and so on. You’ll have your breakdowns from the pain and outbursts from the anger, because it doesn’t make any damn sense! Of course, all that does is make them feel validated for a little while. It’s a very lonely and painful road. You’ll become, “The Black Sheep.” For a while, you’ll feel crazy while you’re learning what reality actually is. What actual love is. How human beings are supposed to be treated. For some, that’s too much or too difficult, and I understand. Unfortunately they either turn to very unhealthy coping mechanisms, or they leave this earth too early not knowing what an incredible human being they were. I had the privilege of knowing and loving the best, “child number two” there ever was.
With the help of therapy, possible medication, and growth through your own life experiences, you’ll eventually get to a point where the anger fades. You’ll understand that your parents really may have thought they were doing the right thing. I made peace with that a long time ago. However, this blog was only partially about them. I’ll say again, my PARENTS did their best. There’s a “middle man” I’ve left out. The one who I would say contributed more than anyone to this entire situation. That’ll be a story for another time. I will say though, when you adopt a child in the family, it’s more than likely best to keep the biological party at a certain distance and ENFORCE BOUNDARIES.
…and for the record…
I hold that Black Sheep label with pride!
The Ripple Effects 