I had fun creating the image, and I love how you will make use of this "missile" material. I'm not in that house anymore, I'm in another "crooked crooked house with a crooked crooked..." Well, you know the rest, isn't that some old children's nursery rhyme?
Humpty Dumpty always seemed kind of scary to a young me. Nobody could or would care enough to help him after his "big fall"? Perhaps because I was always left dangling without a "soft place to fall" in the arms of my maternal foo. Just let me hang....or fall....whatever....
That's quite a coincidence you chose Humpty Dumpty, Ki. I was so obsessed with Humpty Dumpty as a very young child that one of my babysitters actually made me a stuffed Humpty Dumpty doll and I still have it somewhere in a box in my garage! I think somehow I was prescient, only I think I have been put back together again and even better than before 🥚😉
It struck me as I read your comment about Humpty Dumpty that the babysitter actually was helping you process the emotions around that nursery rhyme by making you one. I look back and really wonder if my mother or father ever guided me thru some of the nursery rhymes. To understand and process the fear response I no doubt was groomed from the beginning to have. Perhaps their own traumas making them blind to how it would affect a young me. I just remember always having to deal with my fear and anxiety alone - "children should be seen and not heard" "stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about" if my emotions were ever acknowledge and addressed at all. I'm sure that's how I become HSP introverted, finding solace within - ALONE - to recharge and have the strength to deal with life after.
Honestly I could have written this entire thing myself, we have had parallel childhoods. And then of course there was being 5 years old and being taught in school how to drop under the desk for when the nuclear bomb was dropped on us, egads. Even I knew at that young age that that desk was not going to protect me from what they were showing me in those grainy black and white films. Between that and my family system I never had a chance. 😒
and I absolutely was scared and disliked intensely "Wizard of Oz" I know that's not a nursery rhyme, but it was shown every Thanksgiving holiday for years and years as I was growing up - for the children "to enjoy". It was NEVER enjoyable for me. Yuk. And I can see all the narcissistic symbology (and the behind the curtain of the wizard who supposedly controlled all but was a wimp) The "flying monkeys" are still a fitting symbol, probably taken from Wizard of Oz. And the Wicked Witch - too much bullying and fear and control for a kid whose life was all that alreadyd. To this day I resent having to watch it. Even when my adult intellect has read about the political meaning behind it all. Then, why did they show it for kids? Make the adults watch it and quit terrorizing young children. But that's my opinion, significantly trauma based on this subject.
I loved Wizard of Oz. Mostly for Judy singing and those fabulous sparkly red glitter shoes. There's a whole Jungian analysis of the written work whereby the yellow brick road symbolizes the Royal Road to Consciousness, and on and on it goes from there.
Often, they don’t even need to say anything - the facial expression says it all. I have pictures showing those facial expressions. These kinds of people are sick and so stingy with compliments and/or support, or the ability to share in someone else’s delight, happiness.
LinMaree, your words resonate with my own experience. Facial expressions and stinginess.
Dead eyes looking back at me refusing to see, receive or give joy. The constant noticing and remarking on what isn’t quite right and the equally constant, ignoring of anything worthy of appreciation.
I am so struck by your mention of "dead eyes" My mother had not only "dead eyes" but almost one dimensional. As a child I thought they were like bird eyes, because I could never look directly into a birds eyes and connect. But it was the epitome of "the eyes are windows to the soul" and looking in and seeing.....nothing.
Wow—it's incredible how a short poem can capture so much of what I experienced in my overly critical childhood. I remember when I finally started noticing the pattern, I told my mother, “Can you just come over one time without criticizing something the moment you walk through the door?” Of course, she made it seem like I was the overly sensitive one for saying anything. Classic gaslighting.
Yes, Dr Aun Ali and I were discussing what we called 'scapegoating microaggressions' in our collaborative Livestream last week. I also call this "Death by a Thousand Cuts". Short clip of this part of our conversation from my YouTube channel, in case you missed the live or haven't had time to watch the playback yet: https://youtube.com/shorts/BtlXT-fdPnk
Oh now, since I've told mom to not second guess my every breath, she asked why her saying something irritates me. I told her I can't get into it for the nth time. Bottom line, if it's mine, let it be.
Yes. The last line of a poem I wrote long ago after finding my mentally ill, disabled father neglected and unkempt and alone in a nursing home (where he was also being abused) following his disappearing for 37 years: "What an impossible imprint / this ocean of grief..."
That said so much. We were buying tiles for our kitchen back in 2008 sometime and as the sales person held two tiles of the same design in each hand, I told him one was narrower than the other. He didn't believe it so I told him he could measure it. He did And I was right. One tile was off by a few mm. I've always had an eye for measurements and things not being level. But it could also be because folks around me are hyper critical amd i feel that need for things to be perfect.
I think I have a similar gift. I might go around my house straightening picture frames but I certainly wouldn't go into someone's new home and have a mouth missile be the first thing I offer in response 😝
I think that's more a function of being nice and comfort zones. In houses that are homes to me, and folks are ok with my OCDish behaviour, I can feel comfortable enough to point out. Not immediately and definitely won't touch their stuff. That's crossing a boundary.
Me neither. Layers upon layers upon layers. But each time I release another layer via experiencing justified anger and deep grieving, I feel better, different - more integrated and healed than before.
I meant that as positive compliment for your extraordinary writing ability. To form words together with such meaning that the reader truly "feels" is something very special. Thank you.
And I felt the exact same energy coming from your very few words, Rebecca—the same energy that came from my mother, only she Was so much more subtle and discreet—-and that was So Crazy Making, especially for a young child to experience almost constantly.
Oh, perhaps you'd put these in the camp of 'scapegoat microaggressions', such as Aun Ali and I were discussing in our Livestream? Clip here from my YouTube channel, if you missed it: https://youtube.com/shorts/BtlXT-fdPnk
Yes micro aggressions—she was an absolute master at them. Years ago when I had my preschool and an acre and a half and all kinds of animals to care for by myself, including a horse, I would make the 21/2 hour drive to the SF Bay Area to see her, through All the Traffic etc. Now I understand why I looked for every excuse to be Out of that house, doing errands for her, work in the garden, etc. because I was her constant micro aggression victim in my 60s as I was as a small child.
As I drove home exhausted the next day she would be posting on Facebook what a wonderful visit she had just had with her daughter 🤯 !!!!I’m so grateful for the clarity now🙏 and thanks for letting me Vent.
She never let me forget for a moment that I was there for Her needs. If I tried to share photos of the kids she would comment about a child’s messy hair and run to get a photo of the latest weather vane my brother made, etc.
We can all relate. In the 80’s, after my daughter was born, we bought our first home. A big Victorian that we restored ourselves. When we moved in, I invited my dad to see the finished result. The first thing he said was “I think this is too much house for you. You bit off more than you can chew.” Downhill from there.
First of all you can coin the "mouth missiles". What we say to people really has a chance to lift up or tear down. These scapegoating people really try and use as many as they can. As they age it's all they have. Missiles. I am not sure if this is healthy but we make fun of the missiles we have had recently. Our most invasive relative likes to say "looks like somebody" right before the missile launch so we use that as a comedic relief. Then the one married to that invasive relative came out to our house and when he couldn't get what he wanted yelled "your place looks nice" like yelled it! We laughed at this and as a comedic relief we told some friends so we say it like that to each other. I will turn your missiles into material for my comedy act people, I will. You all look desperate, sad, and silly.
I am sure your home looks and feels comfortable and amazing Rebecca, "imperfection is the glue to comfort and reality". To counter act Lynne's "loyalty is the glue to dysfunction" observation.
Your graphics are PERFECT that will stick with me forever, it may even help me engage the shield faster.
My mother has been gone for almost 18 years now, so nothing on that front anymore. And still—I know that look., the words. Not just from her. Friends did it too.The most blatant example?Visiting a friend, years ago. Another “friend” walks into the room. She lifts her finger, traces the edge of a picture frame on the wall, looks at it, and says with disdain, “You really could have cleaned the dust.”
So sad that this is their existence. Cleaning all day and looking so perfect. But you know what after decades of being a contractor the most welcoming homes are a little dirty, there is a piece of trash in the trash can, a little dust, a few finger prints on the fridge. I can't wait to get out of these OCD clean homes where not even 10 minutes after you use the restroom the trash is emptied of your fancy paper towel to dry your hands. You can't relax in a museum!
When I was about 13 I got to paint my room for the first time. I loved lime green and I used painter's tape to create a pattern of geometric lines around the walls. They were funky and a little crooked and I loved them. I proudly brought my family in to see when it was finished, and my older sister sneered with disgust. "Jesus christ, ever heard of a level!? I can't even stand in this room - it's making me nauseous" and she walked out. I was so embarrassed. My mom didn't say anything, just went along with it.
That's aptly descriptive Rebecca and I agree with your reply to LinMaree, the root of such missiles is often "jealousy, spite and other ugly things." I relate to this critical behavior from older sisters and my father as well. A critical remark from my mother that stood out occurred when I was in chemotherapy and became bald. I was very weak but made an effort to go visit her. One of my sisters ordered me not to tell mom I was in cancer treatment so I wore a hat with a brim so she wouldn't question my baldness. When my partner and I walked in to her suite she took one look at me, made a sour face and stated "You look like an old lady". I didn't say anything but did think of taking off the hat off and asking if that looked any better. I didn't as didn't want to deal with the wrath of my bullying sister.
That breaks my heart, Rosalee, I am so sorry this happened to you. I certainly can relate: I once sang an extraordinarily difficult Aria for my mother over the phone - I was good enough to sing in front of thousands of paying concert attenders at the time, but my mother made sure when I was finished that the first thing she said was, "I could hear you breathing."
I do love how you can look at it. I would have LOVED to see the look on her face had you removed your hat - but as you were already very weak and made the extra effort, you pick your moments. And I love how you and your partner turn that into something to laugh about later.
Thank you June, yes so true. I wanted to say 'geez thanks mom you really know how to make my day'. Instead my partner and I just laughed about it later. It wasn't the first time so nothing really surprised me. One time (years ago) after I had gotten a perm she told me I looked like a "fuzzy poodle". lol.
Charming indeed ! You handled that graciously ! My mother considered me "nowt (nothing) special". My father once said when I had a mouth full of cold sores (was very stressed at the time) "Blimey, your face is a mess". LOL !!
Thanks Ki. My father would also tease me mercilessly about my teenage developments, calling certain areas bee stings & pimples. I was mortified at the time.
I’ve read your book and many of your articles in your other Substack offering. I experience them and the Inviolate Self as powerful and validating. I think in the past I may have been held up as the golden child but have recently and dramatically
fallen from grace and subjected to FSA in the autumn of my life. It has been devastating and it’s taking time to adjust. Your work has helped me make sense of a crazy making environment. I realise now how family projection processes born out of layers of unaddressed trauma and isolation have created so many false selves in the family system and that ultimately I became dispensable. The good child, never wanting to rock the boat or make demands in an attempt to lessen the strain, or at very least not add to it, always helpful, kind and supportive was, I realise now, born of survival needs and the fragility of family relationships revealed as trauma bonds. Suddenly, it all feels much like a tragic play enacted over lifetimes with roles cast by (previously) invisible and insidiously powerful forces.
Oh, I so relate to this, Bebe. All that you say here: "The good child, never wanting to rock the boat or make demands" (on the family system...). Didn't work out so well for us, even so, did it?(!) So glad you found my work on FSA. I have a paid community with private Chat features, etc, over on 'Healing the Scapegoat Wound' here on Substack, if you ever want to check that out.
what you write gives me chills!!! Same with me - almost to the letter of what you have written. The stories in their detail may be a bit different, I'm sure. But at 71, I finally realize the only thing I was good for was to be the responsible, planned financial and emotional codependent for my mother and her sister and all the remaining living FSA enacters. When my husband and I removed our fiscal and physical connection - and worked to have a professional fiduciary carefully take over those responsibilities for her - I am completely dispensable. Thank goodness, because I have realized they used and exploited the "good child, helpful, kind and supportive - born of survival in the FSA trauma bonds" of multi-generational unaddressed severe traumas. To the point of psychopathy and criminal behaviors. And I have severed my emotional and psychic "family connection" with them all. All masks, roles, and those "flying under the radar" make a choice every day to submit to the FSA dynamics, whatever their role is or has been. This is finally MY life. Insidious evil has been the action words stimulating my recovery. It was never love from them: it was a circle of use, manipulate, exploit and abuse.
Thank you for sharing your experience of how my post resonated with you. Your testimony is profound and I hugely respect your decision to disconnect from those who you have exploited by. I wish you peace in this new found freedom.
I don’t know if you see your disconnecting as a courageous act but it seems so to me. Perhaps that only says something about me and where I am at in my own journey.
It can feel courageous and at the same time so vulnerable because it is ultimately the only thing for me to do to save my Self, regain those parts of my self that never were accepted or allowed to integrate or express. But, being without family. Then I think...."I never really HAD real family" (other than my dad and he passed 30 years ago). I wish I could have done this in younger years but I am so glad I reached this point even now. It has been truly trying to connect again with my true self and having been disconnected (often unwillingly/forcibly thru FSA) from my true self as a very young child, in order to survive the dynamics. Because I can only find that healing and recovery with myself when I have made that connection. And to love others fully, because I love and accept my Self, first. Trauma short circuits and dulls that down - in my maternal line of family, they chose to let emotion die completely and took over FSA with no love, just to survive their entire lives as victims and make Scapegoats and others responsible. As I have gotten out of the dynamic, I realize it has been predictable and jarringly obvious. But it happened "within the family" and with psychoemotional abuses. They would not look within, would not make steps to heal. Just birth another generation and perpetuate the same dynamics ....so many twisted young lives in so many of this family's generations....
Yes it is sad June. This text by Rebecca reminded me about all those times I have defended myself (and my house), hoped for a compliment for a new dress and so on. It made me sad 😮💨. I had this to some extent from my parents - and to a large extent from my mother-in-law (and actually also her mother and sister) 😮💨😮💨. Reflecting on it now - I can see how cruel it was. I was fragile, I need care and love - not this 🥵. June, I hope it helps to feel this pain - that it can be transformed to life force 🌿
I'm sorry Caroline & I hope to feel this pain can be transformed to positivity for yourself. I fail to understand why people can be so unnecessarily cruel ! My in-laws weren't great too, a double whammy for us both. I have many words going through my head but I'm struggling to articulate them. Putting it simply, my dear Gran used to say "kindness costs nothing" & that's true ! I'm so glad I had her to show me what kindness was, uncomplicated, true & honest. Bless her.
Yes, yes 💖💖. And when I think back, it was kind of «normal» for me to be treated that way. It feels wonderful to no longer have those people in my life. Like the trash took itself out 😅
Mom's not allowed in my garden either because she comes in with her "nothing is growing" And I am tired of the negativity and pointing out what indeed is growing.
Oh the identification of being criticized and the expressions on my sisters face were one of disgust and that was seeing me first time for breakfast in the morning!??…Totally bizarre..Thx Rebecca for sharing 🌅❤️
Yes….I noticed that. Collectively we suffered through that. So chronic and relentless….and now with just a low contact with just one maybe two telephone calls…very basic topics I am FREE from her distorted view of me. 😊
I had fun creating the image, and I love how you will make use of this "missile" material. I'm not in that house anymore, I'm in another "crooked crooked house with a crooked crooked..." Well, you know the rest, isn't that some old children's nursery rhyme?
I look back on some old childrens nursery rhymes and they now look abusive to me.....can't think of an example in the moment.
I'd love to hear...
Humpty Dumpty always seemed kind of scary to a young me. Nobody could or would care enough to help him after his "big fall"? Perhaps because I was always left dangling without a "soft place to fall" in the arms of my maternal foo. Just let me hang....or fall....whatever....
That's quite a coincidence you chose Humpty Dumpty, Ki. I was so obsessed with Humpty Dumpty as a very young child that one of my babysitters actually made me a stuffed Humpty Dumpty doll and I still have it somewhere in a box in my garage! I think somehow I was prescient, only I think I have been put back together again and even better than before 🥚😉
It struck me as I read your comment about Humpty Dumpty that the babysitter actually was helping you process the emotions around that nursery rhyme by making you one. I look back and really wonder if my mother or father ever guided me thru some of the nursery rhymes. To understand and process the fear response I no doubt was groomed from the beginning to have. Perhaps their own traumas making them blind to how it would affect a young me. I just remember always having to deal with my fear and anxiety alone - "children should be seen and not heard" "stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about" if my emotions were ever acknowledge and addressed at all. I'm sure that's how I become HSP introverted, finding solace within - ALONE - to recharge and have the strength to deal with life after.
Honestly I could have written this entire thing myself, we have had parallel childhoods. And then of course there was being 5 years old and being taught in school how to drop under the desk for when the nuclear bomb was dropped on us, egads. Even I knew at that young age that that desk was not going to protect me from what they were showing me in those grainy black and white films. Between that and my family system I never had a chance. 😒
and I absolutely was scared and disliked intensely "Wizard of Oz" I know that's not a nursery rhyme, but it was shown every Thanksgiving holiday for years and years as I was growing up - for the children "to enjoy". It was NEVER enjoyable for me. Yuk. And I can see all the narcissistic symbology (and the behind the curtain of the wizard who supposedly controlled all but was a wimp) The "flying monkeys" are still a fitting symbol, probably taken from Wizard of Oz. And the Wicked Witch - too much bullying and fear and control for a kid whose life was all that alreadyd. To this day I resent having to watch it. Even when my adult intellect has read about the political meaning behind it all. Then, why did they show it for kids? Make the adults watch it and quit terrorizing young children. But that's my opinion, significantly trauma based on this subject.
I loved Wizard of Oz. Mostly for Judy singing and those fabulous sparkly red glitter shoes. There's a whole Jungian analysis of the written work whereby the yellow brick road symbolizes the Royal Road to Consciousness, and on and on it goes from there.
now the Jungian analysis sounds interesting - but maybe not as comforting as I need. ha. I'll have to put that on my list to research.
Often, they don’t even need to say anything - the facial expression says it all. I have pictures showing those facial expressions. These kinds of people are sick and so stingy with compliments and/or support, or the ability to share in someone else’s delight, happiness.
Yes, indeed. And so often, jealousy, spite, and all kinds of other ugly things are at the root.
or hatred and resentment....a few more ugly things.
LinMaree, your words resonate with my own experience. Facial expressions and stinginess.
Dead eyes looking back at me refusing to see, receive or give joy. The constant noticing and remarking on what isn’t quite right and the equally constant, ignoring of anything worthy of appreciation.
We will survive and we deserve to thrive.
You've pretty much nailed the 'hidden' subtext to this poem, Bebe, thank you. 🙏
Yes, especially the ignoring of anything worth of appriciation 🥵
I am so struck by your mention of "dead eyes" My mother had not only "dead eyes" but almost one dimensional. As a child I thought they were like bird eyes, because I could never look directly into a birds eyes and connect. But it was the epitome of "the eyes are windows to the soul" and looking in and seeing.....nothing.
Thank you, Bebe.
Wow—it's incredible how a short poem can capture so much of what I experienced in my overly critical childhood. I remember when I finally started noticing the pattern, I told my mother, “Can you just come over one time without criticizing something the moment you walk through the door?” Of course, she made it seem like I was the overly sensitive one for saying anything. Classic gaslighting.
Yes, Dr Aun Ali and I were discussing what we called 'scapegoating microaggressions' in our collaborative Livestream last week. I also call this "Death by a Thousand Cuts". Short clip of this part of our conversation from my YouTube channel, in case you missed the live or haven't had time to watch the playback yet: https://youtube.com/shorts/BtlXT-fdPnk
That's exactly a definition for me too "death by 1000 cuts"
Oh now, since I've told mom to not second guess my every breath, she asked why her saying something irritates me. I told her I can't get into it for the nth time. Bottom line, if it's mine, let it be.
A Chinese colleague once asked me if Germans really use a spirit level to put it pics on the wall. She had seen that in a movie.
I confirmed that it is true. She had a good laugh and thought Germans must be crazy 😅
And on some level it is.
My mother used to complain when things were not perfect for her... and she had a "trained" eye for that... so there was always something.
But she had no trained eye for appreciating what was good about me...
Funny how that works (but, not so funny, really, is it?).
Well it's coming from somewhere... not that this makes it any better.
For a long time I had no idea what a healthy family system looks like.
And now such things are just sad.
Yes. The last line of a poem I wrote long ago after finding my mentally ill, disabled father neglected and unkempt and alone in a nursing home (where he was also being abused) following his disappearing for 37 years: "What an impossible imprint / this ocean of grief..."
I'm so sorry - I feel that deeply
That said so much. We were buying tiles for our kitchen back in 2008 sometime and as the sales person held two tiles of the same design in each hand, I told him one was narrower than the other. He didn't believe it so I told him he could measure it. He did And I was right. One tile was off by a few mm. I've always had an eye for measurements and things not being level. But it could also be because folks around me are hyper critical amd i feel that need for things to be perfect.
I think I have a similar gift. I might go around my house straightening picture frames but I certainly wouldn't go into someone's new home and have a mouth missile be the first thing I offer in response 😝
I think that's more a function of being nice and comfort zones. In houses that are homes to me, and folks are ok with my OCDish behaviour, I can feel comfortable enough to point out. Not immediately and definitely won't touch their stuff. That's crossing a boundary.
Oh yes, this sounds so familiar, I almost felt uncomfortable as it transported me back !
Oh dear! So sorry to hear that, June. Yeah, I figured that many community members from my other Substack might relate...
Can’t Believe all the pain and suffering we’ve all been through.
Me neither. Layers upon layers upon layers. But each time I release another layer via experiencing justified anger and deep grieving, I feel better, different - more integrated and healed than before.
Yes and thanx to you and this group we are able to experience the Specific kinds of opportunities for expression and release that we need. 🙏❤️
And I'm glad you're part of this group, Donna! 😄
Thank You, Rebecca—that means a lot to me 🥲 ❤️.
its validating to also know we are doing it in our ways, ourselves
I meant that as positive compliment for your extraordinary writing ability. To form words together with such meaning that the reader truly "feels" is something very special. Thank you.
Oh, whew - Glad to hear it!
I'm sorry, I'm not so good with words.
Yes, I agree with Donna - you are beautiful and caring with your expressions in our community, June!
Ohhh, thanks !
You Are Fine With Words June. ❤️😊— I can see both interpretations.
100% agree!
Thanks so much Donna, appreciated !
And I felt the exact same energy coming from your very few words, Rebecca—the same energy that came from my mother, only she Was so much more subtle and discreet—-and that was So Crazy Making, especially for a young child to experience almost constantly.
Oh, perhaps you'd put these in the camp of 'scapegoat microaggressions', such as Aun Ali and I were discussing in our Livestream? Clip here from my YouTube channel, if you missed it: https://youtube.com/shorts/BtlXT-fdPnk
Thanks Rebecca ❤️
Yes micro aggressions—she was an absolute master at them. Years ago when I had my preschool and an acre and a half and all kinds of animals to care for by myself, including a horse, I would make the 21/2 hour drive to the SF Bay Area to see her, through All the Traffic etc. Now I understand why I looked for every excuse to be Out of that house, doing errands for her, work in the garden, etc. because I was her constant micro aggression victim in my 60s as I was as a small child.
As I drove home exhausted the next day she would be posting on Facebook what a wonderful visit she had just had with her daughter 🤯 !!!!I’m so grateful for the clarity now🙏 and thanks for letting me Vent.
She never let me forget for a moment that I was there for Her needs. If I tried to share photos of the kids she would comment about a child’s messy hair and run to get a photo of the latest weather vane my brother made, etc.
Sounds just like mine Donna !
Hooo boy... instant recognition here! Yes, that was just the preamble, and I'm sure there was so much more to come.
Oh, indeed there WAS (!!!!)!
I'm so sorry. Empathy = your pain in my heart, an echo of my own.
We can all relate. In the 80’s, after my daughter was born, we bought our first home. A big Victorian that we restored ourselves. When we moved in, I invited my dad to see the finished result. The first thing he said was “I think this is too much house for you. You bit off more than you can chew.” Downhill from there.
Ugh!!! I relate. Oh the stories I could tell... (and maybe I will!)
please do! :)
My mother said similar, also in the 80's, she said "you'll regret buying this" & also refused to babysit as she didn't like our house.
Totally feel this. Yesterday I had a 10 minute call with my mom and 5 invalidations. I wonder if 1 every 2 minutes is a record. We need bingo cards.
Maybe a scapegoat microaggression record!
First of all you can coin the "mouth missiles". What we say to people really has a chance to lift up or tear down. These scapegoating people really try and use as many as they can. As they age it's all they have. Missiles. I am not sure if this is healthy but we make fun of the missiles we have had recently. Our most invasive relative likes to say "looks like somebody" right before the missile launch so we use that as a comedic relief. Then the one married to that invasive relative came out to our house and when he couldn't get what he wanted yelled "your place looks nice" like yelled it! We laughed at this and as a comedic relief we told some friends so we say it like that to each other. I will turn your missiles into material for my comedy act people, I will. You all look desperate, sad, and silly.
I am sure your home looks and feels comfortable and amazing Rebecca, "imperfection is the glue to comfort and reality". To counter act Lynne's "loyalty is the glue to dysfunction" observation.
Your graphics are PERFECT that will stick with me forever, it may even help me engage the shield faster.
love it, Laura. You made me laugh out loud!!
Rebecca, wooo, I know that one as well. You truly made it palpable.
Gack, so sorry, it's like a toxic tsunami, when that energy enters one's sacred space - one's home.
My mother has been gone for almost 18 years now, so nothing on that front anymore. And still—I know that look., the words. Not just from her. Friends did it too.The most blatant example?Visiting a friend, years ago. Another “friend” walks into the room. She lifts her finger, traces the edge of a picture frame on the wall, looks at it, and says with disdain, “You really could have cleaned the dust.”
Double gack!! In this case it was not my mother, I'm not sure even she would have stooped so low...
So sad that this is their existence. Cleaning all day and looking so perfect. But you know what after decades of being a contractor the most welcoming homes are a little dirty, there is a piece of trash in the trash can, a little dust, a few finger prints on the fridge. I can't wait to get out of these OCD clean homes where not even 10 minutes after you use the restroom the trash is emptied of your fancy paper towel to dry your hands. You can't relax in a museum!
Laura, so true. I don't know how people can live non-sterile lives in sterile environments.
Fortunately the second time wasn’t my home, still it was not nice having to watch it.
Yes, precisely, this was what I was trying to say, you said it much better !
When I was about 13 I got to paint my room for the first time. I loved lime green and I used painter's tape to create a pattern of geometric lines around the walls. They were funky and a little crooked and I loved them. I proudly brought my family in to see when it was finished, and my older sister sneered with disgust. "Jesus christ, ever heard of a level!? I can't even stand in this room - it's making me nauseous" and she walked out. I was so embarrassed. My mom didn't say anything, just went along with it.
Oh my - I bet you really could relate to my poem here. Ouch!!
That's aptly descriptive Rebecca and I agree with your reply to LinMaree, the root of such missiles is often "jealousy, spite and other ugly things." I relate to this critical behavior from older sisters and my father as well. A critical remark from my mother that stood out occurred when I was in chemotherapy and became bald. I was very weak but made an effort to go visit her. One of my sisters ordered me not to tell mom I was in cancer treatment so I wore a hat with a brim so she wouldn't question my baldness. When my partner and I walked in to her suite she took one look at me, made a sour face and stated "You look like an old lady". I didn't say anything but did think of taking off the hat off and asking if that looked any better. I didn't as didn't want to deal with the wrath of my bullying sister.
That breaks my heart, Rosalee, I am so sorry this happened to you. I certainly can relate: I once sang an extraordinarily difficult Aria for my mother over the phone - I was good enough to sing in front of thousands of paying concert attenders at the time, but my mother made sure when I was finished that the first thing she said was, "I could hear you breathing."
This breaks my heart Rebecca !
What's sadder is that I had so little positive reflection from my family that I thought in some strange way this was a weird backhanded compliment! 😏
Yes that is sadder still !
So sorry Rebecca, I can only imagine how deflating that would be. It sure sounds like it was an attempt to sabotage due to jealousy.
I do love how you can look at it. I would have LOVED to see the look on her face had you removed your hat - but as you were already very weak and made the extra effort, you pick your moments. And I love how you and your partner turn that into something to laugh about later.
Thanks! and yes, haha I would have loved to see her face if had taken off the hat.
So sorry Rosalee, like you really needed that at that difficult time for you !
Thank you June, yes so true. I wanted to say 'geez thanks mom you really know how to make my day'. Instead my partner and I just laughed about it later. It wasn't the first time so nothing really surprised me. One time (years ago) after I had gotten a perm she told me I looked like a "fuzzy poodle". lol.
Charming indeed ! You handled that graciously ! My mother considered me "nowt (nothing) special". My father once said when I had a mouth full of cold sores (was very stressed at the time) "Blimey, your face is a mess". LOL !!
how awful, June! makes me angry FOR you.
Thanks Ki. My father would also tease me mercilessly about my teenage developments, calling certain areas bee stings & pimples. I was mortified at the time.
Horribly inappropriate! Invasive energetically.
My grandmother would do that in front of ALL the family, male uncles and cousins included. It was discussed
Oh dear, as you say June they are just so darn charming! It would be interesting to see how they would handle being told they look like 'sh*t'. haha.
Powerful and evocative. Thank you for casting light into the darkness
I appreciate you making time to read this little missile missive. 🚀
Thank you for creating this space and sharing so openly.
You're welcome and good to hear from you, first time, I think (?).
I’ve read your book and many of your articles in your other Substack offering. I experience them and the Inviolate Self as powerful and validating. I think in the past I may have been held up as the golden child but have recently and dramatically
fallen from grace and subjected to FSA in the autumn of my life. It has been devastating and it’s taking time to adjust. Your work has helped me make sense of a crazy making environment. I realise now how family projection processes born out of layers of unaddressed trauma and isolation have created so many false selves in the family system and that ultimately I became dispensable. The good child, never wanting to rock the boat or make demands in an attempt to lessen the strain, or at very least not add to it, always helpful, kind and supportive was, I realise now, born of survival needs and the fragility of family relationships revealed as trauma bonds. Suddenly, it all feels much like a tragic play enacted over lifetimes with roles cast by (previously) invisible and insidiously powerful forces.
Oh, I so relate to this, Bebe. All that you say here: "The good child, never wanting to rock the boat or make demands" (on the family system...). Didn't work out so well for us, even so, did it?(!) So glad you found my work on FSA. I have a paid community with private Chat features, etc, over on 'Healing the Scapegoat Wound' here on Substack, if you ever want to check that out.
what you write gives me chills!!! Same with me - almost to the letter of what you have written. The stories in their detail may be a bit different, I'm sure. But at 71, I finally realize the only thing I was good for was to be the responsible, planned financial and emotional codependent for my mother and her sister and all the remaining living FSA enacters. When my husband and I removed our fiscal and physical connection - and worked to have a professional fiduciary carefully take over those responsibilities for her - I am completely dispensable. Thank goodness, because I have realized they used and exploited the "good child, helpful, kind and supportive - born of survival in the FSA trauma bonds" of multi-generational unaddressed severe traumas. To the point of psychopathy and criminal behaviors. And I have severed my emotional and psychic "family connection" with them all. All masks, roles, and those "flying under the radar" make a choice every day to submit to the FSA dynamics, whatever their role is or has been. This is finally MY life. Insidious evil has been the action words stimulating my recovery. It was never love from them: it was a circle of use, manipulate, exploit and abuse.
Thank you for sharing your experience of how my post resonated with you. Your testimony is profound and I hugely respect your decision to disconnect from those who you have exploited by. I wish you peace in this new found freedom.
I don’t know if you see your disconnecting as a courageous act but it seems so to me. Perhaps that only says something about me and where I am at in my own journey.
I really appreciate your reflections. Thank you 🙏
It can feel courageous and at the same time so vulnerable because it is ultimately the only thing for me to do to save my Self, regain those parts of my self that never were accepted or allowed to integrate or express. But, being without family. Then I think...."I never really HAD real family" (other than my dad and he passed 30 years ago). I wish I could have done this in younger years but I am so glad I reached this point even now. It has been truly trying to connect again with my true self and having been disconnected (often unwillingly/forcibly thru FSA) from my true self as a very young child, in order to survive the dynamics. Because I can only find that healing and recovery with myself when I have made that connection. And to love others fully, because I love and accept my Self, first. Trauma short circuits and dulls that down - in my maternal line of family, they chose to let emotion die completely and took over FSA with no love, just to survive their entire lives as victims and make Scapegoats and others responsible. As I have gotten out of the dynamic, I realize it has been predictable and jarringly obvious. But it happened "within the family" and with psychoemotional abuses. They would not look within, would not make steps to heal. Just birth another generation and perpetuate the same dynamics ....so many twisted young lives in so many of this family's generations....
This brings up so many memories of criticism of my home, of me…
So sad isn't it Caroline ?! I mentioned earlier, I cannot imagine my FOO being proud of me or anything I've done.
Yes it is sad June. This text by Rebecca reminded me about all those times I have defended myself (and my house), hoped for a compliment for a new dress and so on. It made me sad 😮💨. I had this to some extent from my parents - and to a large extent from my mother-in-law (and actually also her mother and sister) 😮💨😮💨. Reflecting on it now - I can see how cruel it was. I was fragile, I need care and love - not this 🥵. June, I hope it helps to feel this pain - that it can be transformed to life force 🌿
Yes!!💫🌟
I'm sorry Caroline & I hope to feel this pain can be transformed to positivity for yourself. I fail to understand why people can be so unnecessarily cruel ! My in-laws weren't great too, a double whammy for us both. I have many words going through my head but I'm struggling to articulate them. Putting it simply, my dear Gran used to say "kindness costs nothing" & that's true ! I'm so glad I had her to show me what kindness was, uncomplicated, true & honest. Bless her.
Yes, yes 💖💖. And when I think back, it was kind of «normal» for me to be treated that way. It feels wonderful to no longer have those people in my life. Like the trash took itself out 😅
Yes, me too ... didn't know anything else ! It's liberating to not have these people in my life any longer. Indeed, out with the trash.😊❤️❤️
Mom's not allowed in my garden either because she comes in with her "nothing is growing" And I am tired of the negativity and pointing out what indeed is growing.
Oh the identification of being criticized and the expressions on my sisters face were one of disgust and that was seeing me first time for breakfast in the morning!??…Totally bizarre..Thx Rebecca for sharing 🌅❤️
You're welcome, Sally. As I suspected, a lot of people from my 'Healing the Scapegoat Wound' Substack relate!
Yes….I noticed that. Collectively we suffered through that. So chronic and relentless….and now with just a low contact with just one maybe two telephone calls…very basic topics I am FREE from her distorted view of me. 😊
💃