Boundaries in Relation to Covert Incest

I don't know if I've written about boundaries in relation to covert incest yet. If I have, please forgive my "mommy brain." (seven months of sleep deprivation have consequences!)

Before my ACOA group, I didn't know such a thing existed! I thought I needed to hide and shut down whenever I was mentally assaulted; those were my only forms of protection.  It never occurred to me that I had even a little power to say "no" or "I will not tolerate being spoken to in that way" or even to hang up the phone. Without knowing about boundaries, I was helpless. And the helplessness became a core part of who I was. I lived in dread of something, anything, going wrong because I knew what would come next: the assault and the guilt and my acceptance of it. I struggled to make myself proud of me for one moment and the assault would happen and I would lose that precious second. I would reaffirm my own carelessness, stupidity, ugliness, and so forth. It never occurred to me, either, that I may have been wronged.

That was my education in boundaries: being a spineless mass of humanity because no one told me there was another way. I never saw a boundary modeled by a parent or a sibling. I believed it was their right to examine my head and my emotions and thoughts...and if they didn't do this of their own perogative, I was thoroughly trained to neatly hand them over with a bow for their scrutiny. I was trained well.

When I began to assert some independence and refused to hand over my thoughts kindly--this was during my college phase and my father's new woman--oh, did they all get mad! It was the same old story: denial of affection, material gifts, and approval. And the shame piled upon me! I could barely live with myself (and I mean that literally!) Boundaries were not just discouraged, but punished, in my family, that is what I am trying to say. The shame was the worst. Being made to feel that my thoughts and feelings were WRONG...that since they made up who I was, I as a human being was WRONG. WEAK. INFERIOR. I was shamed for crying by my mother and sister; however, I was encouraged to cry by my father because then I was soft as playdough and he could mold and shape and manipulate my form. Either way, I was fucked, wouldn't you say?

I attempted to explain boundaries to my father eventually, when I was in my late 20s. He tried to understand, I think, but it was such a foreign concept that he couldn't digest it and continued the same invasive behavior over the phone and in person, no matter how many requests I made or how lovingly or harshly I phrased them.

Once I understood what boundaries were, even then, I believed they were hurtful to others. I used to get so angry, being stuck with the same icky feeling that if I put up a boundary, I might be protecting myself, but at the same time, I would be hurting someone else. I never felt I could protect myself and not harm the person on the other side. I would get so frustrated that I would throw objects at the wall to express how I felt about this trap I was in. And indeed, others were hurt by putting up boundaries for my protection. My dad was hurt, my sister was hurt, my mother was hurt. So, by saving myself, I felt I was killing others. It was them or me in the end. And that is the truth, in my family of origin. I can never have sacred self and be a part of this family.

A book I found helpful about boundaries (and especially for "highly sensitive people" or "HSPs" [a topic all its own for another day]) is called Boundaries and Relationships by Charles Whitfield.