Family
July 2002
I am still debating whether to leave this file on the site. In some ways I want to make the site more "professional", but in other ways I want to keep it personal. Since I would like to encourage more people in this field to think about and talk about their family backgrounds, I will leave it here.
June 2002
I have not written about my own life, my childhood and my family for a long time. The other day I found this file, and today I decided to put it back on my site. I have been thinking a lot about my life recently, and I want to focus more on myself and less on others for a while. This is one of the reasons I came to Europe this year. I also want people to understand me more, and to learn more about themselves and their families from reading what I have written. Feelings change and many of my feelings have changed since I wrote what is below, but still I think there is value in what I wrote.
First, a couple other things I remember my mother saying the last time I saw her (in 2001).
"You mean you are going to do something normal like eat?"
"It was one of the really great things you did which helps make up for all your sins." (Talking about me helping her find a car she liked three years before.)
During the same trip I was reading someone else's online diary entry about their parents when my mother walked in. I was nearly crying because the entry was so sad. I decided I needed to be more emotionally honest with my mother so, I told her in tears that I did not feel respected by her. I had never said this to her before. She hugged me and started to cry. She said "Of course I respect you." I said something like, "Maybe you think you do and really believe you do, but I don't feel respected." We cried together some more but we never talked about why I didn't feel respected. It would have helped me if she would have asked me why I didn't feel respected instead of just insisting that she did respect me. Sadly, if we had started to discuss it "rationally" she would probably have interrupted me, invalidated me, denied most of what I was saying and my perception of things and defended herself. That is one of the reasons we have never fully reconciled, though we are more at peace than we were from 1995- 2001.
She is starting to accept me more now. When I told her about something I liked she said, "So you prefer so and so?" I said. "yes." She said, "Well, okay, whatever." The she changed the subject. It was still obvious, of course, that she didn't approve, but this was as close as she could come to accepting me.
Another time we spoke by phone this year she said, "Well, I trust your judgment." I don't think she has ever said that before. I know that I never felt trusted. It meant a lot to me to hear this, even though I am not sure if she really felt trusting or if she just thought it would be the right thing to say. Either way, it was helpful for me to hear it.
July 2000
To Parents:
This might be helpful to keep in mind. For me, when my mother tried to cling too tight, she lost me nearly completely. She now tries to get me back but it is too late. There is a good chance she will die before I see her again. She used to try to get me to call her, to send cards to other people on their birthday, to send thank you notes to her friends and relatives. So eventually I stopped calling her. I stopped sending Christmas cards. I stopped sending birthday cards to my brothers and sisters. Now I look back and see how shallow that was when there was so much unsaid between us. Recently I spoke with my mother. She said "You used to at least send postcards when you were out of the country." My mother used to get me to call her when I would drive from Indiana to Florida so she would know I am alright. Now I go out of the country, return and she never even knows I have gone. I literally could die in another country and she would not know it. Sometimes I write to a sister of mine. I always return her emails even the ones which were superficial. Then I said something about the family and she asked me about it and we moved to a deeper level. I took a risk of more rejection, but I got more acceptance by surprise.
Once I didn't return a phone call from another sister and she has never called me since. She didn't say, "Call me back." She didn't have any questions for me, but I am sure she felt hurt, rejected that I didn't call her back. Probably she thinks I should just know that I "should" call her back. She probably doesn't realize that she didn't say "Call me back." I guess I could have called her back anyhow, but I didn't have much to say. And it would have been out of a feeling of obligation. Maybe it was even a little test on her part, maybe mostly a subconscious one, to see if I would call back. Maybe she didn't want to come right out and say, "Please call me back," because then if I didn't it would be a more clear sign of rejection. These are the subtleties in an emotionally dysfunctional family, one which looks "normal," even above average on the outside.
Funny, people liked me because I was different. Now that I am even more different, they don't like me anymore. (Thinking of my cousins- the Soissons, for example.)
The other night, the day after I got the accepting email from my sister, I had a dream that my brother Andy knelt down on the floor to see what I was working on. He offered to help. I appreciated the offer. But I wanted to tell him, I can't just let you help without telling you some things I need to say. I wanted to be closer to him. I felt this strong need to be close to him again, to make amends, to forgive him. I could see it happening so easily. All he would have to do is apologize, acknowledge me and his role in my dysfunction, my low self-esteem. It could happen. I leave that open as a possibility. But do I approach him first? Maybe someday I will, since I am the more powerful one in some ways now, I have more information, more insight, more mental health perhaps. Less need of his approval or of anyone's. Whatever he said and however he reacted would not have as much impact on me now. I could accept it more that he is just another individual of millions, billions on the planet right now. One who I happened to live with or be influenced by for 20 or 30 years. That is a long time to influence someone. So if it is taking me 10 to shake off, fight off, shed off that influence, then perhaps that is understandable.
---
A hypothetical letter to my mother or a mother.
Mom,
I know it hurts you that I don't write or call. Perhaps you feel a sense of loss. Or perhaps you believe you have lost me. But there will always be parts of you inside me. I want to nurture those parts of you which are determined, passionate, sensitive, assertive, curious, caring, loving, wise and insightful. Those parts of you were not nurtured by your parents, from what I can tell. When you were determined, you were probably called willful or stubborn or obstinate. When you were passionate you were probably called idealistic, foolish, a hopeless romantic. When you were sensitive you probably were called weak, irrational, immature. When you were assertive you were probably called demanding and selfish. When you were curious you were probably called nosey and told that you asked too many questions. When you were caring you were probably told you still weren't doing enough to help others. When you were loving you probably were told you were promiscious and shameful. When you were wise and insightful you were probably told you had a big head and thought you knew everything and that you shouldn't think so much of yourself.
But I want to develop those same qualities which I suspect you were criticized and punished for. I want to use them to help others and to help myself.
The parts I don't want inside me are the parts that put myself down. That judge myself and others. The parts that tell me I am not deserving, not worthy of love. The parts that feel needy and that worry and are ruled by fear.
June 2000 Here are some sentence completion exercises which I recently came across, though I did them a year or two ago when I listened to one of Nathaniel Branden's tapes. I still get emotional when I read what I have written below, so I know I still feel too much hurt to see my family and have a "rational" or superficial conversation.
June 1999 - A little writing from my journal:
6/16 -- Reading what I wrote below (on 6/9) brings strong feelings. They range from intense resentment and rebelliousness to deep sadness.
I try to envision talking to my brother. I start to feel tense from the thought of it. I almost feel violent. I have had dreams of getting into physical fights with him, going wild with rage. The thought of fighting my own brother brings me to tears now. Why weren't we taught how to nurture instead of hurt each other? Why did they all feel the need to tease me endlessly, to put me down at every opportunity?
I know the answer, but it still hurts. So I sit here in this cafe in Kiniton, Ontario, and wipe the tears away, wondering if the farmers at the other table will notice.
I don't know how I will ever be able to see my brother again. I feel so much resentment. He has never apologized, never acknowledged anything. From past experience, I don't know if it is possible for him to make such an admission. But I haven't given him the chance. I have never told him how much resentment I feel. Should I write him? Call him. He might be open to listening. He might feel a need to reconcile with me as well.
Galina's words echo in my brain, "reconcile with your family while they are still around" I cry as I type the words. I didn't know I still felt so intensely. I am having trouble typing now, making a lot of mistakes, using the backspace key a lot. A teardrop runs down my left cheek.
What if I said, Andy, I hate you. But you are important to me. Too important. You had too much power over me. I didn't give it to you. You just happened to be born first and very needy.
You have your own problems, too, though it is hard for you to admit them. Fuck, I don't know, maybe I should go home. And just say what I have to say.
Am I strong enough? Can I sit there and take more verbal abuse? Or would I explode and pick up a chair and throw it through a window to make a point- to show how strongly I feel. Sometimes words alone can't express the intensity of the brain's chemical output. Words simply are insufficient. Like a thin wire cable trying to handle too big of a load. Or trying to shove a boulder down a thin glass tube.
The key is to prevent the feelings from growing to the size of boulders. Why do I have such strong feelings? It feels like a curse. I feel cursed. Or blessed. Some, well, I was going to say stupid bitch, but I will say, some good intentioned person- let's say a gipsy, wrote to me and said "you don't have the word 'blessed' on your feeling words list." I thought of writing and telling her that I intentionally left it off, but then decided not to & just sent her the list and said "best wishes."
Well, whatever. I have written enough about this for today.
6/9-- While writing in my journal today, I realized that I feel the loss of my brothers (and my father) and that I attribute this loss partially to my mother. Then I realize I feel the loss of my entire family. But my next thought was that I still do have two brothers, even if what remains is only a part of them in a figurative sense. Then I remembered a father saying to his son, who had just lost his left hand in an accident, "Don't think about what you have lost, think about what you still have left."
So I was thinking that, even though I have lost a large part of my brothers, I still have a possibility of making something good out of what is still there.
I thought the only way I could do this is to honestly express myself.
I haven't kept in contact with the family partially because I feel sure that if the family knew me any better, and knew any more about what I really believed and how I really feel, then they would reject me even more completely than I already feel rejected.
But for sometime I have been thinking that perhaps I have underestimated my own family, just as I believe they have underestimated me, or maybe even worse. So I am writing to extend some kind of offer for some kind of reconciliation. Or perhaps to satisfy my need to make an effort in that direction.
I know that everyone in the family disagrees with some of my beliefs and some in the family disagree with most of deeply held beliefs. I also know that most of the family can not understand my feelings and mom has told me that the family feels judged and rejected by me.
I think of how a gay person, after years of hiding in order to be accepted by his family, finds the strength to risk the rejection of his family and decides to reveal his true life. Such a person decides that he would rather take the risk of family rejection and disapproval than continue to live in deception.
What I am doing here is something similar.
I want to spell out my beliefs clearly and lay out my feelings honestly.
I know that it will be uncomfortable for most of the family to read these words. And I have given up expecting or needing any particular response, or even any response at all. I still feel a bit resentful that my previous attempts to communicate about these things was met with virtually complete silence, but I am coming to understand that it is simply too difficult to deal with, even though each has good intentions.
I feel sufficiently satisfied that I have "proven my point" and demonstrated my ability to detach completely from the family. And I trust that there will be little doubt as to my desire to live my own life free from any family encumbrances. I neither wish to be a burden to the family, nor burdened by it.
I will not tolerate or accept any further abuse by the family. And I retain the need to define the word abuse as I experience it.
It is not my intent that this is the final communication to the family, as I hold open the possibility that my feelings and beliefs may change in the future.
For the present time, at least, however, I have no intention of compromising my integrity with respect to my most deeply held beliefs. Among these are the belief that all forms of institutional religion as we know now it are destructive to the human species. Therefore I will not participate in anything which involves churches and religious practices.
I also believe that the American value system is unhealthy, and that our family has serious problems, the denial of which is irresponsible to the children, grandchildren and future great grandchildren. My belief is that the longer we wait the more the children are damaged by the destructive patterns which have not been broken.
I realize as I write this that this letter also is likely to be met with a barrage of attacks against me, my character, my studies, etc. And I realize further that I will probably never become aware of the majority of these attacks, since it is an unwritten but virtually unbreakable rule in our family not to deal directly with such things. Yet it has been perfectly acceptable to criticize one another behind each other's backs, something I find as ironic as it is dysfunctional.
May 1999 - decided to add some more and just let the record show how my thoughts, feelings have changed, are changing.
was thinking about easter at my sister's again. when i returned from bike riding aimlessly, no one asked me what was wrong or how i was feeling (i remember now how I judged andy for holding a grudge that the family didn't wake him up for thanksgiving dinner, yet i am also holding a grudge- a very unforgiving family-want to write a few notes on forgiveness/unforgiving. like mom saying she would spit in that guy's eye.
was thinking about writing my brother andy and telling him that i believe he abused his power, his position in the family. and that i have no plans to ever talk to him again unless he acknowledges this or at least validates my perception, takes some responsibility, admits some accountability, some contribution to my low self-esteem, and apologizes. my mother claims he is getting more self-aware. she of course, takes no responsibility for him. she needs to think that she has a wonderful family. she needs this illusion, yet she is too smart to not know, on some level, conscious or pre-conscious or unconscious or subconscious or whatever the hell you want to call it, that she has failed in many critical ways. overall it would be interesting to see how she rates herself as person, as a mother, as a wife. was what she was doing helping dad, or hurting him?
was wondering if i would rather die than ask my family for help. decided I would call al first, betsy second, cathy next, patti next - andy-probably never. probably would literally rather die first. probably would call mom after al.
November 98 Update: I wrote everything below a few months ago. I forgot that I wrote all of this. It sounds a little bitter. I don't feel as strongly now. But I will share what I wrote knowing that some will judge me, some will reject me and some will relate to me and be helped by my self-disclosure.
I was the last of six children. In other words, I grew up with seven people telling me what to do. Thus, it is no surprise I don't like to be told what to do now.
My father was virtually destroyed by the Catholic church. My mother was similarly damaged by the Orthodox Greeks.
My home life was chaotic as I grew up. I remember a steady stream of slamming doors, bitter arguments and high tension.
I remember sitting in my room listening through the furnace ducts as my parents argued about me not wanting to go to school. I remember my father saying something about "that damn kid."
Another time I remember going downstairs to try to get them to stop fighting. I think that was the time I heard things being thrown across the kitchen.
I remember one time when my father drove off in anger and either intentionally or accidently drove off the street onto the grass parkway in front of our house. I remember several other times he used the car to try to express his feelings. One time, I think when I home from college, I told him something like there were other ways to express himself. I didn't know anything at all about what I was saying really, because I had never seen healthy adult modeling, but somehow I knew that using the car wasn't the way to do it. Of course, I followed his modeling and many times did very similar things with cars when I was enraged.
Our family is generally highly intellectual. Most of the people in my family have advanced degrees. One sister has a degree in clinical psychology. Another has a masters in counseling. One of my sisters graduated second in her high school class. Most of us were in the honors program in both high school and college.
My father was an electrical engineer back when it was more rare to even go to college. He went to Notre Dame, though he could barely afford it.
He grew up watching every penny. His father died when Dad was 13. He died while riding his motorcycle home from work. It was said he also had a strong temper so it is very possible he lost control of the bike because of his emotions. The house my dad grew up was repossessed by the bank, something which my father never got over. His father had literally built the house himself. I can't really imagine how frightening that must have been. Between the economy and the Catholics it is no surprise he was insecure his whole life.
His mother was the only grandparent I ever knew. I don't remember much about her. We used to call her "Gram." My father felt guilty for not visiting and writing her more often. They didn't say much in their letters. They certainly didn't talk about their feelings. To say my mother didn't like her step-mother would be an understatement. They had an on going battle. I think the only time I saw my father cry was at grandmother's funeral. I really didn't understand why he was so upset. She didn't mean much to me. And I didn't really understand that it was his mother and that he had so many unresolved feelings.
When she died I was about 22 years old and completely naive about psychology and family systems. I was only interested in my career and my dates.
Some other things I remember about growing up.
I remember sitting in front of the furnace trying to stay warm. I also remember hitting my head against the wall over the furnace register and people in the family telling me to stop it because I was going to crack the plaster.
I remember taking all the towels down from the bathroom shelves and throwing them on the floor. I don't remember why. But I do remember getting a long lecture from one of my sisters.
Having three older sisters and one mother assured that I was never far from a lecture or a reprimand. There is little doubt that this contributed to my trouble with relationships as an "adult."
When I say "trouble," by the way, that is putting it mildly.
I remember playing catch with my dad by the side of the house. I remember him swearing at the cars and the washing machine, which it seemed he worked on every weekend. I remember throwing my shoe against the TV screen at the Lone Ranger because I resented him always succeeding. I remember being afraid of what my father would do when he got home. (I don't remember what he did, if anything.) I remember stealing hot cookies from the counter top and my mom yelling at me for it. I remember doing chores around the house like sweeping the basement steps and taking out the garbage. I remember the time my brother covered up the July 31 on the calendar and teasing that I wouldn't get a birthday that year. I remember fooling around with a friend of the neighbor up in the garage attic and feeling guilty afterward. I remember my father and mother fighting about the thermostat, his pipe smoke, how he did the dishes, and nearly everything else it seemed.
I don't remember ever getting spanked or hit in any kind of way. But I do remember my father coming up the stairs after me once. I remember I ran and jumped in bed. But I have no memory of what happened next. He is dead now, so I can't ask him. He died before I ever learned anything important about father-son relationships. Of my two parents, he was more willing and more able to listen to me. He was not as defensive as my mother.
My mother is one of the most defensive people I have ever met. She has a well-developed and well stocked arsenal of verbal and non-verbal defenses. There is no question that she developed this out of survival necessity. Her father lectured her and her mother heaped guilt upon her. They both over-protected, over-controlled and underestimated her. So she did the same thing to her children.
My mother is ruled by fear. It is no wonder I have been insecure.
I have learned there is a cause-effect relationship between parents and children. I regret that I learned this only in my mid thirties.
Some more memories.
I remember one of my brothers pulling me upstairs by the hair when it was time for me to go to bed. I remember my oldest brother coming to my rescue many times. My oldest brother was my protector and my best friend. My other brother used me in trying to fill his need to be powerful. He would twist my arm behind my back and grind his fist into my hair. Some in my family thought it was great fun to sit on me and tickle me till I started to either started to cry or scream.
Simply put, my feelings were rarely respected in my family. The simple reason is because everyone else was so needy. Each could only think about their own needs. When we did do things for the others it was generally out of a sense of duty, obligation, superiority or guilt (Catholic and Greek hallmarks), not out of a genuine concern.
The example of birthday cards is a good one. My mother would say things like "Did you remember your sister's birthday is next week? She was so good to you. You could break down and send her a card." Or "It means so much to Al to hear from you. You were always his special pal."
Now, when someone's birthday comes up, it is hard for me to know what my motives are. It might be because I was never allowed to have my own motives. Which is similar to saying I was never allowed to have my own feelings. Which is similar to saying I was never allowed to be me.
So I guess it is no wonder I never had much self-esteem. It was always "other-esteem," not self-esteem. Of course there many good times, but it seems to be the painful ones I remember the most. I suppose that is part of the healing process. Perhaps later in my life the positive memories will displace the negative ones.
At age 41 I am still working on re-building my natural qualities. Curiosity, spontaneity, confidence, fearlessness.
I sometimes tell people I came from an emotionally and psychologically abusive family. This is hard for me to say, but I suppose it would be easy to see from an outsider's standpoint. I am not sure what qualifies as "abuse." I guess you measure abuse by its effects. To the extent that I have had low self-esteem, have been insecure and have been emotionally needy, then, I suppose is the extent to which I have been abused. Was it physical, emotional? I am not sure it matters that much now. But it seems fair to say it was more psychological than physical. I think it is safe to say there was no sexual abuse.
Most of my family would deny that there was any kind of abuse. Most would think I have been reading too many psychology books and I am just feeling sorry for myself, looking for someone else to blame and being irresponsible. My mother has said things like "No, you are wrong. It wasn't like that." And, "You are too sensitive, no one can say anything around you." And, "You have your father's temper."
One day when I had brought several self-help books home from the library she said "Well, you certainly are going to have a lot of book knowledge." If I were to tell her that I felt belittled she would likely say "Oh, no! I didn't mean that! I meant that I admire how much reading you are doing." But my instincts are sharp enough to know when I feel admired and when I feel belittled. This type of psychological abuse and invalidation is so subtle it is almost on a subconscious level. It is something you can only feel, and then only when you are very in tune with yourself. Insidious is the word the shrinks use.
When I started listening to my feelings and started sharing them with my mother, she invalidated them so many times that I finally decided I needed to detach myself from her nearly completely if I were ever going to find my "true self."
So now we have a fragile but cordial relationship. She knows I don't need her anymore and she knows I will do what I have to do to take care of myself. It is strange when you realize your parents need you more than you need them. Actually, I suppose this was true at about age 15, for at that age I could have supported myself-- I could have survived. It is interesting how long it took me to realize that my mother actually needed me and was using me to fill her needs. Once I realized this, it helped put everything in perspective.
The other day a friend asked me what I wanted from my mother. I said "Nothing. I really don't think I want anything." She said "Don't you want an apology?"
"No, not really. I would appreciate one, but I don't want one. Wanting one is too close to needing one. And needing something sets one up for disappointment and frustration. I try to live my life not needing anything from anyone. That way, whatever I get is icing on the cake."
This means then, that I am, and must be, the cake.
Some misc. notes from thoughts on August 13, 1998
andy:
telling me during my divorce - "I can't wait till you do something else dumb so I can tell the guys at work about it."
"You don't get any more chips because you were late." -- His comment at lunch with my sisters and mother and Gretchen, who I had been dating, when I asked the waitress for some more. Gretchen laughed, helping him fill his needs for attention and to feel superior-- at my expense.
"she is more mature than you" -- His comment in reference to Gretchen - who was about 10 years younger than me. Just before that he had told me someone in a picture was "too young" for me.
"so you screwed up?"- his comment when I was trying to explain why I picked mom up late from the airport.
wouldn't let me talk to his daughter (at brother-in-law's funeral)
lecture about family being together at funeral & then saying "You always want to know how everyone feels. Well, that is how I feel." But he only told me what he thought and what he believed, not how he felt. My other brother and sister watched in silence, no doubt afraid to say anything.
Mom: lecture on washer about smoking when I was about 10.
Time I burnt myself with hot solder but didn't want to say anything because I was afraid I would get in trouble.
easter at cathy's - when I rode off on my bike and avoided the family while they ate dinner. Then later my mom lectured me and told me I should apologize to Cathy for not being at the table. Yet no one in the family asked what was wrong, or how I was feeling. And no one has ever apologized to me. This was during the time which preceded my separation and then divorce. When I realized this a few years later and brought it up to my mom, she got defensive and I became furious and started screaming. She went upstairs to her room and I soon apologized and hugged her and cried with her.
Thanksgiving 1996 - when I screamed and swore at mom after she told me not to get angry. I left the house and spent the night over at a friend's house. Later I got a letter from my sister calling me "boorish." Detail of Thanksgiving 1996
In general, with my family I feel:
supported 1
understood 0
encouraged 0
accepted 5
loved 3
valued 2
resentful 3
accepting 8
detached 9
Letter to mother - ~Jan 1995, while she was in FL.
Hi Mom,
Thank you very, very, very much for our talks. I don't think you realize how important they are for me. Yesterday I felt like I had reached a new, higher level of my own healthiness and self-esteem because I was able to share some, or basically all, of my deepest most painful thoughts with you and you still accepted me. You valued me enough as a person to let me say what I felt. You listened to me for a long time yesterday morning. I felt that was the first time I have ever been listened to and really heard & understood by you in a long time--especially about the most important things on my mind.
The feeling of being listened to and valued and respected is one of the keys to healthy self-image.
Because you value me and are important to me--the most important person in my life,, literally--your opinion, thoughts and judgments weigh extra heavily on my self-image scales.
When you listen to me, it raises my self-esteem. It gives me a type of power, a power to believe in myself. A power to know that it is okay to feel what I feel & think what I think. You may not agree, but if you listen & I feel like you understand and respect my feelings and point of view, then I feel accepted & loved & valued by you.
Just the process of listening to me without giving advice or "invalidating" my feelings is very empowering.
I always knew that you loved me & everyone. But it is much different to *know* you are loved vs. *feel* you are loved. Listening to me & accepting me as me with all my faults makes me feel loved.
I know it is very hard for you to talk about these things, so I respect you all the more for having the strength & courage to do it. You are really, really helping me. I can feel the weight being lifted. I can give some of my pain back to its rightful owners in my ancestry. I don't need to carry others' burdens once I understand the burden of, for example, Dad's loss of his father & the house, & it is assigned to its proper place.
It is not about blame. It is about sorting out and cleaning house. Removing skeletons. Removing ghosts & blame & shoulds & guilt.
When I first read about such things I couldn't relate to the concept. Now I see how important it is. That is why I want to find the source of my & the family's various pains. A lot of it was passed down to you & Dad or placed on you and Dad. As intelligent adults with proper education & awareness we can sort through all the ghosts & demons & wounds & hurts & assign responsibility accordingly rather than just blindlessly carry it & pass it down to our children and their children.
I have harmed a lot of people because I was unaware of myself. I know that I was unaware so I can't "blame" myself. Just like you are unaware of using labels like idiot & big dummy. But now that my awareness has been raised by my new knowledge and insight I can assume more responsibility. I accept responsibility for my mistakes, but I can only do so much about what has happened in the past. My present & my future, though, is a totally different thing.
Because I am aware that they were mistakes I realize now that I have a chance to do things differently. To learn from my mistakes. To use the education and knowledge to help myself & others even more than I could before. Before I could teach people about computers because I studied them, practiced them, was proficient with them myself.
Now I am learning about pain & self-esteem so I can help people with these issues, which are vastly more important than computer skills.
So as you help me, you are empowering me to help other people. Remember how we used to talk about chocolate pills to make people better? Isn't it interesting that I am now so interested in helping people? Not with medicine, but with their emotions. Wouldn't it be wonderful, I think to myself, if this type of career and study is giving me the tools to help the person I love most dearly in my life--my own precious, special, wonderful mother?
I love you mother, from the bottom of my heart. As we talk, please never lose sight of that.
I have great respect for you. I do not blame you. I know, intellectually, that it had to have been difficult, hell, even to raise 6 children in the situation you did with the training you received.
Mom, you did a *damn, good job.* No one can take that away from you-- But yet there is always room to grow, there are always new needs that arise & new information available.
It is a matter of constantly raising one's awareness to one's own behavior.
Your mind is still very sharp. It is a great asset. I have all the confidence in the world that it can continue to receive & process & learn new information & new skills.
You have a tremendous capacity to love, yet something has been blocking you from receiving love. I am totally convinced that if you can unlock this mystery, a new, happier, more powerful love & ability to help your loved ones will emerge.
Thank you again for having the courage to support me in my own personal quest for understanding, release & forgiveness.
Scott Peck says you cannot forgive someone truly until you have acknowledge what crimes they have committed against you.
I think there is a lot of insight in that. So as I talk with you, while you are feeling attacked, try to remember that I believe Peck is correct. That I must confront the demons from my ancestors that have harmed me. I do not blame them but I want to give them back ownership of their pain. I can cause enough pain by myself.
I don't need the additional pain of "I should do this and I should do that" coming from all those around me who in turn are getting it from all those around them.
Now is time for me to use my own intelligence, learning, and wisdom to decide what is right and wrong for me. When I want advice from you or Andy or Patti or Cathy, I will ask for it. That may sound harsh but it is not meant to be. It is simply a statement of my belief in myself. If I do not ask advice from people, then it must mean 1) I am not big enough to receive it 2) I do not respect their opinions 3) I already know everything. And I am not so ignorant as to think I know everything. In fact, the more I learn, the more I find I don't know & the more I realize the need to know more. It has been said that this is one of the true signs of wisdom.
I have no doubt that your father was wise, just as Tak & Andy are wise, but they are both human. Let no one ever raise someone else to superhuman status. That is a dangerous sign.
Mom, you have done far more things right than wrong. And as we talk so deeply I realize more and more how special you are. I will only love you more by talking as we are, does that make sense to you? Wouldn't it have been precious if you could have had such talks with your mom and dad before they died & isn't it great that *we* can?
I love you-- Steve
She used to say my sense of humor was my "saving grace"
She denies that there is anything wrong with her family. She has a reason for all of the family's problems. For example, one's troubles are because he was too short. Another's because he grew up during the Vietnam War. Mine she attributes to having a "temper like my father's", among other things. (Her brother attributes his son's problems to "his character.")
As far as I can tell she takes no responsibility, though actually I believe she feels responsible, but just can't acknowledge it. For to do so would cause her to see herself as a complete failure. Already she doesn't value herself and will not take a compliment of any kind.
Her parents were evidently disappointed in her for various reasons. Her mother wanted her to write more often and to come visit her in Greece, for example. My mother still has not forgiven herself for such things. Her mother did an excellent job of creating guilt. Since I have lived in Florida near many Greeks, I have seen how their cultural influences help create low self-esteem and insecurity among their children. My mother is "proud" of her Greek heritage, though, and would of course deny this completely. She will likely be defensive literally till her death.
Evidently thinks I am going through some kind of "phase" and that one day I will once again be a conformist. When we were going through clothes in my old bedroom closet recently, she asked if I wanted to keep my suits and ties in case of a funeral. She doesn't understand that I will never wear a suit or a tie again. And she doesn't understand why. She doesn't even ask or take me seriously. She really believes she knows me better than I know myself.
This is a huge mistake for any parent to make. Or for anyone to make about anyone else.
--
Note on conversation with Mom about Al. She said that she could still remember clothes she was wearing and Al was wearing when psychiatrist in Michigan said that Al was one of the most sensitive and emotionally vulnerable people he had ever seen. "Emotionally fragile" She also said something like she wasn't about to start trying to tell herself that there were no problems in the world and that life was a bed of roses, because she hadn't made it this far in life by doing so. Mom told Helen Sherman and I about how someone in her office told her she should relax and she said she didn't have time to relax. She was very proud of this fact. But I think it is sad because it is through relaxation and contemplation we grow. I doubt we grow emotionally or spiritually by just staying busy. I think the whole Hein family will agree that when mom has a problem she solves it by getting busy with something. Possibly a way of avoiding dealing with pain. Patti or Cathy said that Mom's mother was very critical. Why doesn't that surprise me now? She also said before I left that she wasn't one to shirk her responsibility and that she couldn't just shuck her resp. like I could. Another dig at me. Definitely falls in category of overly- responsible type. (See Peck's definitions of the labels character disorder and neurotic in tapes.htm)
I look at leaving my family as similar to leaving a cult. The cult members can't see that there is anything wrong with them; they try to get you to come back; they can't understand why you left; and they believe they are really helping you by their attempts to bring you back into the group.
They all believe they know what is best for you. It is hard to fault them, because they really believe this and their intentions are pure.
Some background:
That morning my mother had been interrupting me when I was trying to talk to my nephew. She was criticizing me, trying to act superior, talking about "psychological stance," and then denying that she was doing anything wrong. Then she asked if I wanted some toast. Flatly I said, "No." She responds "No, thank you." Then she adds, knowing how important children are to me, especially my own nieces and nephews, "So much for being a good role model."
So I leave the house, go for a drive, try to call some friends, and write in my journal for about an hour. Then I returned home and later wrote in more detail about what happened.
June 2002 - I may put the rest of this on the web later, but right now it is too hard to read it again and to decide what to say .
Mother was always....
My actual answers the first time I did this exercise: cutting down Dad, shouting, talking in a loud voice, putting herself down, threatening me with big trouble, talking about her weight, complaining about the neighbors, aching and moaning, arguing with Dad, bossing us around, in control, cleaning, cooking, doing dishes, talking about other people, judging others, judging everything, complaining about Dad's pipe, dramatic
Added later when I was writing about respecting someone's need for sleep: vacuuming, dusting. Making sarcastic remarks. (Steven could walk right past two feet of dust and never notice it.)
Complaining because I didn't take something up the stairs with me when I went.
Exaggerating
With mother I felt...
My answers: controlled, afraid, disapproved of, criticized, compared, guilty, responsible, blamed, restricted, bored, annoyed, depressed, drained, tuned out, invalidated, underestimated, interrupted
Mother gave me a view of myself as
My answers: a trouble maker, a rebel, a clown, mischievous, inferior, inadequate, a playboy, a capitalist, greedy, selfish, inconsiderate, impolite, rude, disobedient, immature
Father was always....
My answers: angry, getting yelled at by mom, smoking his pipe, late for work, driving dangerously, complaining about other drivers, passing cars, scaring us, frustrated, watching tv, trying to help others
With father I felt...
My answers: enslaved, afraid, loved (camping, fishing, baseball), skating, disliked, troublesome, admired (dallas), respected, listened to, empowered, embarrassed (camping trip-tv dinner)
All my life...
My answers:
I have felt controlled, underestimated, envious, judgmental, needy, afraid, worried, compulsive, urgent, pressured, passionate, different, invalidated, superior
I have been a non conformist, a rebel, different
I have wanted to change things, teach people lessons & teach them &help them & get my way; to be free
One of the things I'd like you to know about me....
One of the things I don't want you to know about me....
If I were more honest about my feelings...
The bad thing about admitting my pain to myself is...
My answer: It will hurt, it will show my insecurities, I may feel depressed, discouraged, hopeless
The bad thing about admitting my fear is...
I'll have to face it
If I were to be honest about myself about my anger...
I would realize I still get angry more than I want to. I would think that it is deeply imprinted in my brain circuitry
The good thing about denying my excitement is...
I won't be let down when things don't happen as I envision - People won't invalidate me and think I am crazy, or childish
When I think of how I try to protect myself by denying my feelings and emotions...
I think: I don't do that anymore