Fourteen years ago I spent a year in group therapy. I had seen therapists off and on since I was eighteen to help me battle my childhood demons. I had suffered with depression since I was twelve and there were many times that mentally I would fall into the deepest blackest hole you can imagine. I don’t know how else to explain it. This is how I picture those dark times in my mind and I can remember feeling like the hole was so deep and dark that I would never get out. When I was in the hole I was incapable of seeing what was just above the surface of the hole. It is the worst feeling of despair and with the help of medication and a lot of therapy, God, good friends, my husband, and self help books I’ve managed to not fall back into the hole for quite some time.

I really wasn’t all that keen on doing group therapy. How could I listen to other people’s problems when I couldn’t even deal with my own.? I had been through a couple of lousy therapists and psychiatrists who were only interested in putting me on medication. My depression isn’t just a chemical imbalance but also situational and at the time I was in a very dark place.

The only good thing I had at the time was a couple of very supportive friends and a job as an RN that paid well. The rest of my life was falling apart. I had fallen for a gorgeous man and we moved in together after dating only a few months. It didn’t take long to figure out that this man with the pretty face was not right. He was immature, insecure, and paranoid. When he accused me and my sis of poisoning his chili I knew it was time to send him packing. He moved out and my sister moved in since our parents were giving her the silent treatment. She was home from college and things with our parents were really rough. Back then I was more like a mother than a sister to her.

We got into a big fight because she wanted to use my driver’s license to rent a U-haul to pick up her furniture from her college apartment. You needed to be 23 years old to rent and she was only 22. I wasn’t comfortable with the idea. I knew that if she had an accident I would be held responsible and my insurance was already quite expensive. My sister didn’t have any car insurance at the time. Rather than stand my ground and knowing that our parents weren’t going to help her I gave in or at least made a compromise. I rented the truck and drove the two hours to get her stuff and back home. The worst part was that I did this after working night shift so I had been up for more than 24 hours. I was exhausted to the point that I was nauseated. The trip took 5 hours round trip in angry silence. But I felt so compelled to take care of my family to the point of martyrdom.

I don’t remember how long we stayed mad at each other but the stress of my sister’s neediness and the daily hate phone messages from our mom took it’s toll. We ended up in a physical fight and my sis moving out. She moved in with a family that we both had been a nanny for. The mother of this family had become a good friend and helped keep us sane during our parent’s insanity. She came to my apartment to get the rest of my sister’s things and she was not nice about it. She took my sister’s side and it was a slap in the face. Yes I was angry, depressed, and I did overpower my sister during our scuffle but I was spinning out of control. I had a mom who would call me names while she ranted at me for not doing what she wanted, a dad who was giving me the silent treatment because I didn’t do what he wanted, and a sister who was mad at me for not doing what she wanted. They were all wanting me to take care of them because that had always been my role and it was my fault things weren’t going their way.

I had recently started seeing a therapist that I really liked and she was teaching me how to set boundaries with my family. The boundaries I was trying to enforce were interrupting the status quot of my family and things got really ugly but I needed to make changes. My family was drowning me. This therapist changed my life but she was a very expensive life changer. Back then health insurance didn’t cover the cost of a therapist so that’s how I ended up in group therapy. It was much more affordable because the cost was split amongst all the members.

It was weird at first. I hated listening to the problems of strangers but after a few sessions the strangers became my friends. We had a common bond in that we were all really fucked up. Those sessions became a safe haven for me although I dreaded going every week. The work was really hard and I had to look at some things about myself that I did not like.

The therapist used a technique where we were to nurture our inner child; the child that didn’t get love and affirmation. We had to buy a doll that looked like us as a child and treat the doll how we should have been treated. It seems weird and corny but it was very effective. Most adults who were abused as children have a hard time turning off negative messages in their mind from childhood. It’s very hard to not feel bad or worthless as an adult when that’s how you were made to feel as a child.

We did a lot of role playing and punching pillows. Our therapist felt it was important to take ourselves back to how we felt as powerless children and then helping us realize that as adults we were no longer powerless. During these role plays we could say all the things to our “parents” that we couldn’t say when we were under their control.

One of the hardest scenarios I acted out was when my dad got out his gun during one of my parents violent fights. At first we thought he was going to kill us so we hid in the shower with our mom. I can remember that night vividly as if it happened yesterday. It was terrifying. No child should ever fear that their parent is going to take their life.

He called us out with the promise to not hurt us. We found him in the living room with the gun to his head and he was yelling at my mom that if she did not divorce him he would blow his brains out. Me and my sis were screaming and crying. We begged our mom to agree to divorce so he wouldn’t shoot himself. The drama went on for what seemed like hours before it stopped. In the end my dad didn’t shoot himself and they didn’t get divorced but that incident has made a permanent stamp in my mind.

By the end of our reenacting that situation my therapist was able to help me to start understanding that it is not my responsibility to prevent my parents from killing themselves. I still struggle with this feeling because my mom threatens suicide often but after awhile I became numb to her threats. What I may never become numb to is how awful that incident was for me. I was eleven at the time and now I look at my oldest and I’m in disbelief that my parents could behave like that and not think that it would leave us with a permanent scar. They were supposed to protect us.

The most effective role play we did was when four group members each took the role as my mom, dad, sister, and brother. They wrapped their arms around me while they repeated my family’s dysfunctional messages. I could only take a few minutes of it before I felt like I couldn’t breathe and I pushed myself out of their hold. For the first time I could see how their expectations of me were impacting my life for the worse. My biggest challenge was my need to separate from my family and to stop feeling responsible for their happiness. I felt like they would fall apart without me.

Why am I sharing all this? I’m not really sure. I just started writing to help me deal with the heavy thoughts in my mind right now. I’m feeling like my parents have me back in that hold. If you read my last post you know that my mom sent me an email requesting a reconciliation. I responded with:

Please don’t come over. I’m not interested in a reconciliation. I wish you all the best.

My dad responded yesterday and I haven’t been able to get it off my mind. In fact it is consuming me. Typical. This is why I need to shut the door on this part of my life. My parents can get such an emotional hold on me that I function with extreme irritability. I’m snapping at my husband and my family’s needs are taking me back to my feelings of overwhelming responsibility I had as a child for the cooking, cleaning, and emotional needs of my parents. I’m tired and I hate how my parents can think that they can walk back in my life as if they’ve done nothing and then become indignant with me for wanting space.

My dad’s email was typical of him acting as if he has no idea why we’ve been estranged for two years. There was no apology for my son finding and ingesting one of the sleeping pills that my mom had hidden or for blaming my son rather than my mom. There was no mention of how our estrangement was their choice. I had asked that even though they were angry with me over the pill incident and were holding me responsible once again for my mom’s suicide attempt to please not take it out on my daughter and attend her Christmas concert. They knew how important it was to me that they not treat my kids like they did me. There were so many special occasions, graduations, and my wedding that they did not attend because they were mad at me or my sister. Not going to her concert was a deal breaker. They did not go and I came home to angry emails from my mom, dad, and brother. In fact my brother’s email was the most hateful words that I’ve ever seen on paper. This was the kid that my sis and I practically raised. And I was two weeks away from delivering my fourth baby but they didn’t care. Their feelings and needs have always come first.

What my dad mentioned was that on several occasions he wanted to show up at my door and ask me what my problem is. My problem? Typical. And how typical of them to take their mental holiday for two years and then think they can waltz back in my life as if nothing ever happened and demand to know what my problem is. I know what’s my problem. THEM.

He also accused me of being a bad Christian because the bible says to honor thy mother and father. Yeah I know. I’ve been hung up on that one my entire adult life. It’s the reason why I keep going back for more abuse.

He wants answers to why I’m so angry but it isn’t anger I’m feeling but resolve. I don’t want to do this anymore. How many times do we have to do this before we get it right? I have a feeling that it’s never. That is why I have to stop. It is unfair to my own family and much too difficult to be a good wife and mother from the depths of a black hole.

My dad is demanding answers and threatens to show up at my door if I don’t explain why I no longer want them in my life. Wow, the land of denial must be a nice place. My sister thinks it’s great. I have my chance to tell them how I feel and what I feel happened over those four years that led us to our demise. I really don’t want to do it. I’m not angry. I’m sad and I’m tired of putting so much time in energy into something that repeatedly fails and leaves me an emotional mess. Like Dr. Phil always says, past behavior is a predictor of future behavior.

I’m checking out of the blogosphere for a few days so I can collect my thoughts, put them down on paper and hopefully move on with my life without my parents. They had cut their own abusive parents out of their life and now I’m cutting them out of mine but unlike my parents, the cycle of abuse stops here. I know better so I will do better. Unfortunately I have the feeling that they are not going to make this easy for me.

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