I asked my lover how he would define intimacy. I was curious, as he had once said that we were "intimate" (I wrote about that earlier, so I won't go into it now). His definition was "a combined closeness...physical and emotional, between two people." And I responded with my own definition: "in to me see." To me, intimacy is being seen--and being ACCEPTED--for who you are, deep down inside (and vice versa).
An interesting difference in definition, eh? I mean, I agree with his definition, as a basic definition, but I believe intimacy goes way beyond a combination of the physical and emotional. When you learn a secret about another person and accept the valuable gift of that secret and offer a nonjudgmental, compassionate embrace [as a metaphor] in exchange, that to me is intimacy. Intimacy can be more than a romantic relationship; I would consider my closest friendships to be intimate. Some friends know more about my secrets than my husband ever will, for example.
I think, well, I know, my chosen definition comes from my problems with the word. Adult children of dysfunctional families tend to have difficulty with intimacy. I encountered many bumps along this road, for example, the overenmeshment with my father--not a normal intimate father-daughter relationship; or the difficulty I had with my sister's shaming responses when I would attempt to initiate intimacy in the form of sharing my thoughts and feelings and even a secret or two. I remember trying to tell her about some of the pain my husband and I were going through and the brisk, judgmental, almost angry tone of her voice shocked me into shame. I felt like I had become less of a person in her eyes--just as I was getting used to the acceptance and kindness and understanding I received from the members of my ACOA group. The sting of that has never left me.
This wonderful article, Fear of Intimacy, is extremely powerful. So much so that I find it hard to read more than a few paragraphs in a sitting. But to me, it rings of truth. If you are an ACOA and sense that intimacy is something that might need a little work, please read and share this, but slowly.
There's a point in your life when you get tired of trying to fix everything and trying to make everyone happy. When you finally decide to quit, it's NOT giving up. It's realizing you don't need certain people and the bullshit they bring to your life.
It was nice to see this publically posted and I found it validating. My father sent a birthday card recently. I'm too tired to deal with emotional games, and for the first time in my life, I simply tore the envelope up, without looking at it. I didn't wait for my husband to read it for me, or feel guilty, or even wonder if I was tearing up a check or gift card. I just did it. JUST DID IT. Feels good.
That was number one. My sister did something similar with an email, and I wrote back a quick "thanks" and left it at that. I miss her, but I won't be playing games with her, either. And while I was at this, I decided to prune my "friends" who aren't truly friends. If the ratio of give to receive is tilted too far to either extreme, I've had enough. I really am worn out from being a mother, and I only want people who are able to maintain balance in their lives to be a part of mine. So, I am pruning the list down to the essentials: my wonderful husband, my adorable daughter, my long-time ACOA friends, my dear close relatives, any close friends who can honestly, authentically practice the art of friendship and isn't using me for a specific purpose, and my long-time lover.
Who, by the way, is continuing to shock me. He was standing by, patiently, listening to my crazy stories and understanding what I was going through all this time, over three years, maybe four by now. He's been waiting until I was ready---until WE were ready--and it's as if lightening struck and shook my world. Blessed, blessed release.
A lesson this has taught me is that eloquent words without the fortitude to back them up ring hollow. Quiet depth and patience wins out every time. Never overlook the patient man of few words; there is likely more depth to him that the ocean is deep. As strange and unconventional as this sounds, we are on a carnal journey together, one which has the blessing of my husband, and seems to have been written long before it began.
I know that I need help. Every day I wake up feeling like I don't belong here. I carry these hurt feelings every day, and do all that I can to keep them at bay. I hang out with friends. I go to church. I make plans for the future. But the silence always gets me. Whether it's the silence before I go to bed, or even the silence of being in a room of people yet not interacting with any of them, my feelings always crop up. That I am not normal. That I am not worthy, not good enough. So I work hard. I help others. But it never is enough to keep the painful thoughts away for long.
From The Wounded Healer's blog. Thank you for sharing, wounded healer. You are NOT alone; I understand.
Healthy children are not the result of a "perfect childhood," but are the result of a family system that has reasonable and consistent rules, that has a foundation of trust and appropriate responses to the breaking of those rules. Punishment in a healthy family does not involve physical or emotional scars, are not out of proportion of the offense.
Adult Children most often come from homes where rules are subject to the whim of the person in the room at the time. We may have been ordered to do one thing by father, forbidden to do the same thing by mother, told to do it differently by a grandparent and ridiculed for doing it (or not doing it) by an uncle or "friend of the family." As a result an Adult Child grows up "knowing" he or she can never do anything right -- that they are somehow defective.
In a healthy home the parents are loving authority figures who make their likes and dislikes understood, freely express their needs and feelings, are allowed to openly disagree, and to not be perfect -- all without threatening the underlying trust and love that are the consistent resource for the family. A healthy parent can make a mistake and it is not traumatic for the children, but a demonstration of the freedom and honesty of a healthy family. Healthy children learn their parents are human and are not perfect, and the child learns he/she is not expected to be perfect, but to do the best they can do. Children learn they can make mistakes, are expected to make amends for any damage caused and then to learn from the experience.
In a dysfunctional home, the parents are authorities whose word and actions cannot be questions. In the face of blatant wrong information or wrong actions, the Adult Child learns that his/her own wants, needs and safety are less important than supporting the family system. Independence, which is allowed in healthy families within reasonable boundaries, is a threat to the authority of the dysfunctional parents.
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dult Children learn to become used to comments like "Who do you think you are?" "You'll never amount to anything," and "What makes you think you're so great." Adult Children learn not to exceed their parent's level of competence. They learn that it is dangerous to be a better student, to make more money, to have a saner family or to win recognition. The dysfunctional parent takes such successes as threats -- that they are "less than." The Adult Child may not be aware of the self sabotage they apply to their own lives and wonder at their inability to achieve success.
As a child the Adult Child learns to behave in whatever way allowed them to survive. Behavior can range from defiance of authority (the romantic image of the "rebel") or by suppressing their own needs and attending to the needs of the people who continue to represent their parents in their lives.
Children carry their early perceptions of family rules with them as they grow into their teens and adulthood. While living in a dysfunctional family, the warped foundation may continue to function well enough to permit the illusion of a functional family. Virtually all dysfunctional family systems, however, are in a slow downward spiral, requiring more and more energy to defend the "official" realities of the family in the face of mounting evidence.
When the child of a dysfunctional family begins to enter the "real world" -- schools and the workplace -- they discover their family system is not the reality shared by their classmates and co-workers. Many Adult Children become loners or form tight, unhealthy relationships with other children of Dysfunctional homes. These relationships actually re-enforce their dysfunctional view of the world by "finding another person who really understands." The tightness of the bonds created in these relationships is accented by the Adult Child's lack of an individual sense of of identity -- they do not yet know where they stop and someone else begins. As a result they are unable to define their limits and begin to take on other people's opinions, defects and needs.
If the Adult Child is able to form lasting friendships (some never do), it is usually with other Adult Children who provide familiar characteristics similar to the family's dysfunction. Adult Children can be very slow to recognize the patterns of family problems -- they spent their lives being trained by the family to not see the problem -- even when they are re-created in friendships, marriages and work relationships. While the outward symptom of the dysfunction may be missing (the bottle, the gambling debts, the violence, etc.), the behavior is present early in the relationship. When the behavior blossoms into full dysfunction, the Adult Child is often one of the last to notice and feels very betrayed ("I never knew he drank...", "My God, she's just like my Mother!")
At the point of awareness the Adult Child can easily retreat into depression and feel defective -- "What's wrong with me? Why didn't I see it before..." The lack of skills necessary for nurturing themselves can leave the Adult Child with intense self-hate and low (or non-existent) self-esteem.
I was involved in an ACoA group for about four years, this breakdown occuring at about the tail end of my time in that group. ACoA is a wonderful support for adult children of alcoholics and non-alcoholics, but those who experienced some kind of indefinable dysfunction, like mine. What I treasured about my group was the openness and honesty of its members. They weren't afraid to talk about the hard things-their hatreds, anger, rage, jealousy, depression...this wasn't a put-on-a-happy-face-and-pretend-everything's-fine group. No, we were honest and REAL. And cried a lot. It was the one place I felt truly listened to. The silence while I talked was healing (I think that might be the most profound aspect of 12-step programs). No advice-offering, no backtalking, just 12 listening pairs of ears. Sometime members teared up as each us spoke our truths. No criticism, no judgements. Pure acceptance. This group accentuated my faith, as this felt like what God's love should be.
Not every group connected like we did. But that's why trying out different groups is crucial; you need to find the group where you fit. These groups have different "personalities." After four years, the makeup of the group changed- older members dropped out, new members came in and the atmosphere lost its healing power for me. It was time for me to go. I have kept in touch with a couple of my fellow members; they are the people closest to my heart now.
I will write more about ACoA, but I wanted to give a short introduction, in case anyone was wondering what ACoA was all about.
As I searched the web for informative blogs on the topics of the narcissistic parent, covert incest, and toxic families, I stumbled on this gem: One Angry Daughter
"One Angry Daughter's" situation similar to mine; and as I am accused of being "sick" for having a personal yet anonymous blog, well, I think this blogger and others like us are on the sane side of the aisle. Just look at what happened to her:
Unfortunately, I underestimated their internet search skills and left a path (albeit a convoluted one) right to this blog. As such - I know they have read everything. To anyone who thinks if you can just tell your family members that you think NPD, alcoholism, BPD, etc... are in play and maybe they will get the help they need - let my experience be an example that it may not.
Same here. And our intentions are the same as well:
I hope by sharing my experience I can help others going through a similar situation. I want other DoNMs, ACoNs, ACoAs and other victims of emotional abuse to know it is not their fault and they have the power to walk away from the source of the abuse. Even more importantly - you have the power not to fall down that slippery slope and pass on the abuse to your children. Having the strength to face your past to become a healthier person can stop the cycle.
Survivors of emotional abuse thrive in community with each other, especially as we walk away from the source of the abuse, as One Angry Daughter states. It is too easy for us--being already vulnerable to pain inflicted on us-- to feel guilted and shamed into believing that we are the crazy, manipulative, dysfunctional person in the family, that we are making these issues up in our heads. That alone is enough to push us under deep water--the lack of empathy ans validation that comes with this type of treatment by our families of origin.
I welcome connections with other bloggers in this type of situation--please don't hesitate to leave a comment if anything you read here helps or hurts, or you'd like to join together as a blogging community.
A sad fact of this world is that oftentimes people see you how they WANT to see you, not as you really are. I suspect my family of origin was unconsciously looking for one member to place all their guilt, anger, and shame on--the scapegoat as it were. They wanted to see this member as a sick individual, the one who gives away the family secrets, the one who shuts the rest out, who doesn't listen, is unreasonable and one-sided in her thinking, and shuns the others for no apparent reason. So, here is the sensitive daughter, the frightened, timid member, and they projected all of this onto her and ensured it played out exactly as they had imagined. She has lived up to their "expectations." A fulfilled prophesy. Funny how that works, huh?
I became the ogre who shunned the others. The bad girl who hurt them all. The guilty one.
I have become this nightmare of a horrible person to them; I am a mix of all the negative traits these family members individually possessed, rolled into one unpalatable package.
A lifetime of being pushed and shoved and having others' thoughts, feelings, opinions stuffed down my throat, well, yes, I did FINALLY stand up for myself--after forty fucking years! How dare I stand up for myself in this family? Feel my own emotions, speak my own views, have my own opinions? How dare I defy the status quo? Change and not be the pushover I always have been? BETRAYAL! BITCH! SICK!
Only no one, except five people, view me this way. Everyone else knows a loving, sweet, sensitive, funny, yet hurting, aching human being. A thoroughly vulnerable, mistake-making, imperfect human. If I were such an ogre, wouldn't I have been abandoned by friends and husband long ago? Would my mate have stayed with me despite everything for twenty years and counting? Would wonderful recovery siblings have continually encouraged me during my struggles? Would many of my relationships still have shifted and evolved yet remained strong and comforting? Would my work colleagues still have donated amazingly generous amounts of time when I ran out of sick days during my maternity leave? Would a few cousins still determinedly keep an eye on me to make sure I am okay? If I were so nasty, so horrid, such a sick individual, wouldn't be I completely alone by now?
Let me make a long story short. I had an anonymous blog where I discussed personal issues relating to emotional abuse and narcissism. This was extremely therapeutic for me and helpful for other readers. Family members "found" it, silently tracked it for many months until unleashing their anger about my honesty. I am now estranged from most of them.
Moral of the story: I will not be silenced or shamed by anyone for my experiences or mode of expression. I am a writer and expressor; I will be heard, if only by GOD. If readers don't like what I have to say, then for goodness sake, stop reading! No one forces us to read anything. We are all entitled to our feelings and forms of expression.
My history in a nutshell: survivor of covert incest and emotional abuse by a narcissistic father. Depression and suicidal feelings since I was old enough to remember. Struggles with an eating disorder, codependency, and sex and love addiction. Found comfort and support in an amazing Adult Children of Alcoholics and other dysfunctional families 12-step group over four years ago, and began both my recovery and journey to rock bottom and back again.
So, welcome to those who share these types of trials and those who want to listen and be heard. Welcome compassionate readers. My greatest hope is that by identifying with each others journeys, we can find support and comfort.
