Culture of Abuse

[Gail]

I've had something rattling around in my brain these last few days, and thought I'd try to make some sense of it.

I grew up in a frontier atmosphere--a small, but rapidly growing city in the far north, so maybe that was a factor.  When I look back on my childhood, I realize almost every friend I had had at least one alcoholic and/or abusive parent.  Some of my friends' parents really made my parents look like "Parents of the Year."  These were middle to upper middle class families, for the most part.  It was just a way of life for all of us--we didn't think it was anything abnormal.  I remember one of my friends had a dad who was very mean and abusive, and drank a lot.  One time I saw him crack her in the head for saying something "disrespectful."  She told me he beat her mother on a regular basis.  Another friend had a mother who drank like a fish, and I remember seeing her quite drunk.  Twice, before I was 18, I got drunk with my dad and some of his friends.  No one was really paying attention to me--or seemed to realize that I was drinking right along with them. 

Another friend told me that his dad beat him so badly that he was bloodied.  He learned that his "dad" wasn't his biological father--that his mother had had an affair, so he was hated and often abused.  My boyfriend's parents both drank like fishes, and his older brother was a drug dealer.  Another friend's mother was married multiple times to abusive men.  And on and on.  My best friend and I used to occasionally go fishing with our dads and witness all of the men get pretty sloshed.  They were all professional men with high powered careers--very competent in their professional lives. 

I feel almost panicky thinking about all that I was exposed to.  And I never talked to my parents about it.  I didn't tell them about the crazy woman who beat her son with a belt for jumping on the bed, or the man who struck his daughter in the head.  No one ever cautioned me about not driving with parents who had been drinking.  It's no wonder all of us kids drank and used drugs.  We had terrible role models.  We all kind of raised ourselves--and didn't do that good of a job of it!

Another piece of the crazy patchwork of memories to sort through.  It's hard not to feel ashamed.

Gail

[miss piggy]

Hi Gail,

When you consider the epidemic of alcohol and drug abuse, there isn't a one of us who isn't going to be touched by it somehow.  My most problematic relative is a "dry drunk" who grew up in an extremely alcoholic household.  She doesn't drink but is just as difficult to be around.  In fact, some of us wished she would drink so, as Jack Nicholson said in Terms of Endearment, it would kill the bugs up her a**.

I didn't realize until much later how weird my own family was, but I credit one of my best friends with knowing and not getting in my face about it.  She had two alcoholic parents, and a mutual friend also had two extremely alcoholic parents.  She just recognized how repressive my house was and "gave" me permission to do normal kid things, like get my ears pierced and get invited to a party or two.  Some times we just hung out.  But this was a big deal to me, because my parents did nothing to encourage any social life.  She knew how obnoxious the Ns were in my family before I knew what N was.  I was really blind then.

I also find that alcohol and drugs do not discriminate by race, income, etc.

Just some thoughts.  MP

[Sela]

Maybe if I say ridiculous things to you, Gail, it might help???

Ok...........it's shameful that your parent (s???) is/was/were/are addicted to alcohol/drugs!!

How dare you speak of it!!

The rest of the world is perfect and all have empty closets.

It was your fault too........for picking such lousy parents/a lousy parent.

You could have chosen better!!

And shame on you for exposing yourself to all that stuff!!

Shame!  Shame!  Shame on you!!



  (ofcourse I'm being ridiculous).

Let me reword that according to my personal experience (after many years of carrying all that shame around too!)

It's not my fault my father was an abusvie alcoholic and that my mother stayed with him/did her share of stuff.
I don't give a flying flute who knows it!!
Those were their decisions/behaviours and they are responsible for making/doing them.
I was exposed to all kinds of stuff that no child should ever be.
That isn't my fault either and I no longer carry any shame about it.
I refuse to take responsibility for the behavour of others.
I put it all back in their lap because it's their stuff.
Not mine.

But I do get what you're saying because it's not like I'd shout this out from the street corner.  Imagine the shocked and disgusted looks I'd get......the turning away of faces......the shame would be put on me.  As a matter of fact....I've seen that sometimes when I've chosen to speak the unspeakable.  I still speak.
Abuse is shocking but the shame doesn't belong to me or you Gail.

I'm so glad you had such a caring friend.

Sela

[Hopalong]

Man, I am sorry.
But what incredibly strong people are coming out of these places.

It's interesting to me what a variety of backgrounds can bring people to N realizations and such. I was brought up by totally proper near-teetotalers. I think what made my Mom an N was partly genetic and partly that her father (a preacher) absued his daughters (though she said he only tried it with her once). Add to that a repressed hysteria that percolated down to me through her personality, and the very, very strict religious upbringing I had (plus a bullying older brother)...I think those environmental things do damage in a different sort of way. It was like living in a silent pressure cooker.

I wouldn't trade it for being beaten or being around terrifying rage-aholics or drunks though. It's all relative (no pun intended). I remember once mentioning my back pain to my exH, who had steel rods in his back from an accident, then saying, oh I can't talk about back pain to you. I'll always credit him with this kindness: He said firmly, pain is pain. (Meaning, whose is worse isn't relevant.)

Dump shame.
You sport an invisible golden badge that says: Survivor Pride!!!

Hopalong