One of the ongoing themes in Dysfunctional Families Day threads—one that’s certainly been present this year—is the doubt whether one’s own situation is “bad enough” to be a problem. It’s not at all surprising that people who have been repeatedly told, in words and in deeds, that their feelings don’t matter should struggle with this.
Given that, let me direct your attention to David Harmon’s incisive comment at 861 of that thread:
S: My internal voice keeps saying “it’s not that bad”, “other people have it worse”,
Actually, the presence of that “internal voice” is itself a warning sign. In a healthy environment, most people don’t need to convince themselves they’re not being abused.
As far as I am concerned, there is no minimum dysfunction requirement to participate in this community*. If you need to come talk, come talk.
* and at this point, I’m declaring DF a community rather than just an annual observance. We’ve filled a thread and are still going, 2 1/2 months after the declared day. We have persistent identities and returning members helping out new arrivals, and we’ve begun discussing our local customs with one another. I’m happy to run DF threads the way we run Open Threads† for as long as we want to have one active. If the conversation dies, I’ll start a new thread on September 21, 2012.
† Though I think I will close old ones to keep the discussion current; this is not a conversation that thrives in fragments. (update on March 20, 2012: Pursuant to that, this thread is closed. Please go to this thread for the continued discussion.)
931 responses to “Dysfunctional Families: You Must Be This Unhappy To Ride”
Never posted to one of these before, but the title grabbed me. So, re: my own experiences: PTSD is the bully you can’t escape.
Dammit.
Irony of you posting this — I just saw it in my RSS feed immediately after making a filtered LJ post about coming across an email from well over a decade ago, where there’s a bit of family dysfunctionality that I’m still dealing with in ways that seem like they’re going around exactly the same circles.
I find that I don’t really have much to say about it, but wanted to say something regardless.
Ahhhh – I feel somewhat relieved just knowing this is here.
I may vent later, at the risk of sounding like a whiny eight-year-old, about the trials of spending my Thanksgiving with my parents and all of my aunts and uncles (and none of my own generation, who were all wise enough to duck out). Which featured (as large family gatherings almost always do) most of the family reverting to treating me as if I were eight and not very well socialized.
Which was a little hard to take at the same time that my mother dumped all of the cooking on my husband and me, and my eldest uncle pontificated on how removing the social safety net altogether would “teach them not to be poor.”
I think every family has some level of dysfunction. And it’s OK to acknowledge it without having to prove that your experience is as bad as someone else’s. (In fact, it’s a very good idea not to.)
Trauma dick-sizing is overrated. If it hurts you, it counts, and you’re allowed to feel something about it, and to process those feelings.
Thank you for these threads, Abi.
Abi #0: Aw, shucks. <blushing> And thanks for the extension!
I suppose I have an update! I posted somewhere in the previous thread & well, things are — stable? but also very not. It’s the kind of stable where it’s like … there’s a hole in your boot, & no water is coming out, but there is a hole in your boot.
I think there’s a lot to be said for my mother. However, one thing of note at this moment: I am old enough to do chores & decide to (slowly) attempt university & take responsibility for my mistakes (oh the mistakes), but not old enough to make decisions about who I see, who I date, what I wear or how I wear it or where I go or how I travel. Lovely.
One of my sisters was & is abusive in times of stress which is almost always due to her particular disorders & is currently going through the process of divorce & packing & cleaning up the messes her ex has left to her to deal with &etc, & it is finally beginning to hit home to her that yes, her life has fallen down around her ears. She is returning “soon”, to stay in this house in a city she hates, “indefinitely”, but no-one will say when she will arrive or when she might leave.
I cannot take care of her. I could not take care of her when she was here a month ago & I cannot take care of her now. She is twice my age & I have seen what caring for her does to my mother & I do not have half her fortitude nor do I want what it has cost her to have it so overdeveloped & extending her emotional efforts constantly. She wants me to take care of her.
I know because she has told me so directly & our parents have to be at work to pay for the food we eat & maintenance & the other things she takes for granted, & so it is usually the two of us at home during the day & I am not very mobile yet & I need to keep to my limits because I have learned what it does to me to exceed them & I cannot do this for her & she refuses to recognise that my affection & shallow emotional pool cannot be bought with chips & apologies & I don’t know when she will return because no-one will tell me.
There is a hole in my boot & it is soon to be full of water & it will leak, make no mistake.
Leah Miller DFT!prev#923: I always thought of that not as “dealing with” the depression, but as hiding from it. You yourself note that it doesn’t really cure or even prevent, the depression, but it keeps you from being actively miserable, let alone doing something self-destructive. That’s practically the definition of a “coping mechanism”.
Like most such, “retreating into the Internet” can get out of hand and become a problem in its own right… but as someone’s noted elsewhere on ML, the point of a crutch is that it holds you up when your legs can’t. So it comes back to “moderation in all things… including moderation”.
In my family I have been realising what sort of subtle and not so subtle damage has been done by my grandparents. They never really meant it, but my grandmothers were both strong personalities with certain views. The end result was my mother spent years feeling she should live up to perfections of house cleaning and other things, and on my dads side he had less hassle than his little sister who was traumatised and ended up living in Australia, well away from her mother. I’ve seen this sort of thing as well in a childhood friend who’s mother, again without any deliberate malice, pushed them onwards and laid out expectations which basically drove the child to good academic grades, a good job, and eventually a form of collapse through overwork. She is now much happier in a less stressful job and discarding some of the pressures that were programmed into her.
What effect all this had on me isn’t clear, although I’ve always been obedient and fairly easy going, perhaps in reaction to the tension behind the scenes.
Thank you, abi. I was concerned about the way the thread seemed to have picked up again so close to the practical maximum size, and had been thinking hard about “do I need to post this, really?” and making sure I wasn’t just rambling, in order not to waste a post that someone else might need.
Cynthia, #3: Sympathies. Sounds like maybe next year, the younger generation needs to make their own Thanksgiving plans as a group — perhaps as a joint vacation trip to somewhere a bit out of the way.
David, #6: abi isn’t the only one who thinks you made a Statement Of Much Wisdom there. You’re absolutely right — people who genuinely aren’t living in an abusive environment aren’t going to have that little voice, because they don’t need it.
The converse isn’t necessarily true, because it’s possible for the little voice itself to be beaten (literally or figuratively) out of existence. But its presence should definitely be taken as a Giant Red Flag.