Making the Right Choice
I think I have gone through all the stages of behavior around abuse as I’ve learned to stop reaching for my soul limits and set myself free.
The first signs of abuse came into my life when I was a child. At the time, nobody was talking about abuse, but my parents’ relationships taught me what an evil entity it was. Abuse existed behind closed doors, so a child of my age was far from understanding what the abuse in relationships actually entailed. All I happened to know was that it was painful torture that seeded fear within me wherever I went. It slowed down the process of learning about loving and caring relationships. I was not in a good starting position.
Because I was a child, the choice of removing myself from my parents’ issues was not given to me. All I was left with were my own transformation abilities. Would I mirror my parents’ lives or do something else? I tried to intervene, to show them that they both deserved love. Every time they fought, I cried and screamed as much as my lungs could endure. But they were too busy with their individual pain that I was left alone to deal with whatever came next.
Being sensitive to any injustice I encountered, I was furious about my dad not respecting my mum while she worked hard every day bringing large shopping bags after work. She never received praise for her cooking for everyone in the family. I was also mad at Mum, who never stood for her right to be loved and respected. Her passivity drove me mad, even more than my dad’s aggression at times.
Dad’s regular name-calling, blaming, and belittling of Mum gradually damaged my little soul. There was no way to escape or convince my parents that they were wasting their precious lives at my expense. I developed overreactive emotional behavior myself, in order to turn their attention to the problem itself.
They paid attention, indeed, but only to the consequences of my behavior. They decided to take me to different psychologists and professionals, seeking remedies for their emotionally unstable daughter. They somehow succeeded in confirming to me that the problem was in me, not them.
The combination of low self-esteem and my belief that I was an unbearable burden on the family revealed a different aspect of my inner rebellion in my teens. I became aggressive towards my parents because I could no longer cope with what I carried around as I witnessed my dad emotionally and physically abusing my mum. This reaction of mine proved even more that I was a “bad” person.
Bad or good, the example of a family unit had already been constructed, and I unconsciously used it to organize my own personal life. I met men who were a replica of my dad and acted ignorantly to the way they treated me…just like my mum used to do.
Of course, instinctively, I fought. I tried to show them that their behavior was wrong, but only when I realized that my self-love had to come first, I stopped the never-ending circle of abuse in my life.
In theory, there are always three choices in response to abuse:
1. Become a victim of abuse (believing that you are not worthy of a better life).
2. Become an abuser (give in and act alike in revenge).
3. Detach from all the negativity and focus on self-love and acceptance.
It takes a long time and inner wisdom to disengage with what others demonstrate to you in their behavior, especially when they are your closest family members. Abuse does not teach us love. It degrades and demolishes us, just like alcoholism. It breaks us into tiny little pieces that we will then have to gather up throughout our lives.
It took me 20 years to fight the sense of insecurity I’d gained from my early childhood, and to learn to walk again. Now, I am rediscovering myself and know that I will someday grow wings to be able to fly.