Happy Life

Had a big moment yesterday realizing that I grew up in an abusive family and was abused as a child. It's so weird how simple these things are, and yet, even after years of therapy and recovery work, how the flat out statement of fact takes a long time to get into one's guts. I have said I had an abusive childhood many times, and I have known it with my mind, but it hit me much more gut-level yesterday. 

The ideal

closer to the reality

The occasion was in reflecting back on family dinners, which we had every night when I was between zero years old and about 18. I don't feel like reciting the details here, but suffice it to say that my memories caused a nauseated feeling, and a knot in my chest, and a great sadness and aversion to show up for me. And I was looking over a website for The Family Dinner Project, and feeling like a total outsider. You know, like the Frankenstein monster.

And then it hit me that this was the source of a lot of those times when I have just wanted to have a normal goddamned life. Like, a loving, calm, supportive family to spend time with. People who genuinely listen to each other and care about what is going on in each other's lives, and support and cheerlead and show compassion and so on. Like a human connection. And how so much of my life I have simply felt completely alienated from same. Homeless and ungrounded, not connected to the human family. 

And I had never really put two and two together until yesterday: the intense wounds from having grown up in an abusive family are directly connected to my never having experienced a loving family of my own. This may seem as clear as fresh water to some people, but I never made the direct connection before. I have heard countless self help, recovery people and therapists say this, but I never got it in my gut.  

And this explains very well why certain experiences in my life set off my anxiety. Family dinners with A and her son, for example. I always felt on edge, even when I learned to settle in more and just enjoy them. They were almost always calm, pleasant, supportive, fun, relaxed. But I still felt antsy and like I was looking for the exit. Now I know why. 

Or when I have been out with friends who have children and their children are behaving like children and I get super anxious and start to feel like there is going to be yelling and violence. And I take a few deep breaths and notice my friends do not enact that kind of behavior on their children, not even in public. 

And I see friends of mine who did not have a happy life as children working pretty hard to create a happy life for their own children, and it's very moving. I have known for about a decade now that I outright avoided having children because I was terrified I would inflict misery on them. It's odd and a little poignant now that I feel like I'd be a great dad but am past my prime and the odds of me being a father, even an adoptive one, seem low. I even have baby fever for the first time in my life. I used to hate babies, really. That sounds harsh but it's true. But now, I see a pic of a friend of mine with a baby and I melt. Wtf. 

More power to all who seek to make home safe, supportive, encouraging, calm, productive and kind. I'll have to do so for myself, as I have been doing for the past couple of years, and take that sense of being homeless, unwanted, unloved, rejected and worthless out of the equation. The atmosphere is so primal, from pre-verbal days of my life, probably. Cellular. 

Becoming aware of the hurt inflicted on that little boy I was hurts now, as if it's being inflicted now, in a truly surreal and surprising way. I keep saying, this too shall pass. Hang in there. Be kind to yourself and make your home a safe space for you. It's good to be making a lot of these connections but it hurts like hell. 

Fortunately, I have a shit ton of PhD work in which I can lose myself. It's a welcome distraction a lot of the time.