Tag: consequence

Tendrils of Abuse

When I was a little girl, before my parents separation and my father leaving home, I would have a repetitive dream. There was a witch living under my bed who had a hole that she would pull me through and force me to be her slave. I would have to cook and clean for her and she would punish me at every opportunity, sometimes that punishment would be sexual. The dream was shameful to me and I never spoke about it but it lived in my being as this disturbing secret. 

When I uncovered the memories of my father’s molestation of me, in my mid-twenties, the dream came back to me and suddenly made sense; how my young psyche had been processing what was happening  to me in reality, in my dream world. 

Having uncovered these events, I emailed my father saying that I had some memories that had been revealed to me and I would like to talk to him about them. I didn’t imply what they would be about and having, in the process of discovering them, also been able to reach forgiveness, my energy was quite clean and open. He didn’t reply but, unbeknownst to me, rang around many members of my family saying I was accusing him of sexual abuse and how crazy I was. None of my family mentioned that to me, it came out months later due to the suicide of my half sister. It was an interesting reaction. 

Eventually we spoke and he gave me an implicit confession ‘My mother played with my balls and there’s nothing wrong with that!’ Tendrils of abuse…. From her to him to me….

That was 17 years ago and nearly ten years since he died. And still my family have never spoken to me about it. I know they would prefer to think I am the crazy one, that it didn’t really happen and even if it did, best forgotten. 

But as I lay in bed last night, I became observant of my natural sleep position and suddenly realised that I sleep in a formation of protection. Tendrils of abuse. And I came to thinking about all the impacts that experience has made across so many lives. 

I know now that some of the childhood fantasy play I created with my friends was a result of this abuse, more ways for my little being to try and make it normal. I know that it hyper sexualised me so that, unconsciously, I attracted wounded male attention, far too young and inappropriately, not least from more of my mother’s partners. I know that it has affected the way I view intimacy with my husband. I know it has made me extra protective of my children. I know that it has made me wiser and more compassionate. I know that the tendrils reach out and affect people in all sorts of ways. 

Which is why, after all these years, I feel the need to name it. Secrets like this only hurt. They hurt those who have to hold them; those who’ve been affected by them; those who need to hear their stories aren’t the only ones. 

My father was a deeply wounded man, arising from a deeply wounded upbringing and I want to be part of healing those wounds by not holding them shamefully in me. I completely forgive him and my grandmother and whoever came before because they were the traumatised child that couldn’t find their way home. But I also won’t carry their secrets any more. 

My experience becomes my strength to carry forward, as I shed the layers and weight of abuse; I am finding my way home. 

First published on social media on 27th September 2022

Our Achilles

Yesterday, I watched the podcast between Russell Brand and Brene Brown and loved it, of course. 

Totally my thing, discussions on vulnerability and spirituality, boundaries of steel and the state of our global society. Meaningful, heartfelt, humourous and enlightening. 

I was nodding happily along to it all right up until the last five minutes when Russell asked Brene’s advice on parenting. And then I was thrown. 

I was thrown, not only because Brene’s advice was so contrary to my own views (and that is totally ok btw, this is not a judgement conversation) but because her philosophy to parenting seemed so opposed to the rest of her OWN philosophy. 

Let me extrapolate, my understanding of her work on vulnerability and shame can also be looked at through the lens of control. Vulnerability being the release of control and shame protection being all about control.  And yet here I was hearing Brene recommend what she called ‘choice parenting’ or Choice Theory. The principle of which is to give the children a choice to make…  the basic premise being to continue with their ‘unacceptable’ behaviour and face a consequence OR stop.

Again, I want to hold this discussion without judgement but as a musing of ideas. 

I frequently use choice with my kids but with certain differences. Occasionally I use it because something is non negotiable usually to do with physical or emotional safety. More often than not I use it to get my own way, for example ‘please close your mouth whilst your eating or I will have to take away your ice cream’. This is control. 

I know it, I recognise it and I really really try not to do it because ultimately I am inflicting my utterly subjective values on someone else. Another important element to this principle is age appropriateness and development, what age are children able to understand and rationalise choice? When I heard Brene discuss constructive choice offers with wayward teens, there may still be  background (and necessary?) control but I get that it can create immediate mediation and lead to thoughtful discussions. However when suggesting offering a choice to a tantrum-ing 2/3 year old – calm down or we leave the restaurant, I baulk. That is not a choice a small person can make fairly nor is it in anyway modelling vulnerability. 

With the very best of intentions, work and graft, I moderate my feelings to be thoughtful and kind but when I get utterly overwhelmed by life’s happenings they sometime go awry. Sometimes I lose my temper, sometimes I’m just a bit grouchy and snappy. I have ‘a choice’ in how I express these yet frequently my thinking choice is retrospective, it comes after the event (I blame my Italian ancestry and Scorpio birth alignment – I maybe just a touch fiery at times!). When my feelings overwhelm me, I make a point of reflecting on them, being vulnerable about their root cause and making amends. Because I’m human and flawed and that’s ok. 

Now if I, as a fully qualified and fairly reasonable adult, have moments of overwhelm, what can we expect of our little ones? Sure they may need to be taken out of a restaurant for a cuddle and calm down, to help them re centre and restore their spirit, but isn’t the ‘choice’ of removing them permanently, as a consequence of being totally vulnerable, not only punishing and shaming but also almost impossible for them to process?!?

Do you feel the contradiction like I do? 

But this isn’t about making Brene wrong because she and I are both making parenting choices from our very best intentions despite our differences. It’s about our Achilles Heel. 

It about the fact that we all have one; we can be so utterly clever and kind and wise and human and also make choices that contradict ourselves, are incongruent, flawed and bizarre. 

I didn’t come away from this podcast thinking less of Brene (although I did yearn to speak to Russell about my perspective too!), I actually came away thinking more of her. She became more relatable and more real to me and absolutely more attainable as a vision for myself. 

I don’t have any academic qualifications (zip, nada, none) so I am easily cowed to believe that I have nothing to validate my viewpoint or opinion, despite instinctively feeling that actually I have some cool things to share. 

Watching the podcast yesterday reminded me that it’s not about the degrees and letters after the name but simply about the conversation, Achilles and all.

So let’s keep talking…