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Family of Origin
Thanks to all of you who were so helpful this week.
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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 654410" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>As always, I can be ten thousand kinds of wrong about this. <em>Abused children develop maladaptive coping patterns.</em> They have to. Normal responses do not operate the same way in dysfunctional families. There is no trust. There is no respect, no essential respect for the wonder of individual persons supporting one another in face of the tragic or joyful things that happen to each of us in our lifetimes. Everything about the dysfunctional family serves the dysfunction, not the individuals in the family.</p><p></p><p>There was no strength, SWOT, for either of us, growing up. <em>We believed their truths about who we were, about where we were weak or ineffectual, because that is what the most dysfunctional member required us to believe for the dysfunctional reality to hold water.</em> </p><p></p><p>I think you were never <em>physiologically, irredeemably</em> mood disordered. I think you were tortured, and developed coping responses and fought depression and got all messed up (I did too) just like a beautiful animal from the depths of the jungle turns neurotic in a cage in a zoo where nothing she needs to survive is provided but water and the most meager and inappropriate food. And strangers, strange beings with no compassion, come and stare at her, there in her cage, while she is dying.</p><p></p><p>But all we ever had to do was walk out of that cage.</p><p></p><p>The trick is in believing in ourselves enough to push against the door. And then, head for the jungle instead of returning to the cage <em>especially now that we know it cannot hold us and never could.</em></p><p></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Now, how could I know this would be true of your sister? Of course she overreacts. Someone had to react loudly to keep the dysfunction alive. She is, like my sister is too, as tied in to that cage in the zoo as I am and as you are.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Sorry for the italics.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>The site is doing that.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>The thing about gossip is that it tells us more about the weakness of the gossiping person than it does about the person being gossiped about. My sister can be so mean I can hardly believe it.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Here is the dysfunction.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Watch for it.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>So...I don't believe it.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Blind as a bat to the dysfunction because I am so afraid to be a hater, like mom, that I refuse to see places where I need to stand up, open the cage, and head for the wildest jungle because it is actually safer than that place where strangers stare into my eyes while I suffer for their sakes, and for my own, while the dysfunction gets stronger.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>"Cedar, please pass the butcher knife. Your father has his back turned. Thank you." Or Cedar's response: "But I thought you were going to gut my father?" </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>"I decided to turn the knife on you, Cedar. Now, clean up those intestines and other internal organs. What a disgusting mess was inside you, Cedar. Your father and I are going to dinner."</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>That is dysfunctional family dynamics.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>That we can function at all is triumphant testament to our innate strength.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>I am so glad you have this in your life, SWOT.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>That is the one thing we haven't had in our lives. Validation.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Now, we do.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>I kept the texts from my sister, too. I reread them when I begin, based on the outcome, to doubt that I saw what I saw or heard what I heard.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>This has been an amazing tool.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Here again, in dysfunctional relationships, the part of us that disbelieves ugliness in our people backfires on us without validation. We come to believe we were wrong because that is what they tell us. They are practiced in tailoring their relationships ~ not only to us, but to everyone in their lives ~ to reflect the world as they need it to be. I think it takes more courage than we have to see our part in things. Where those built like you and like me automatically take responsibility for and try to fix things, our counterparts in dysfunction automatically blame someone ~ anyone ~ else. Both are functioning from the hurt of the abuse they have sustained.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Two sides of the same battered coin.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>That was the implosion point for my sister and my mother, too.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>It makes sense that this would be so. That is the heart of the dysfunction.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Yes.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Not much of a tool, but enough for us to take wing and fly right the heck out of that cage.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>That is all we ever needed. To see a different truth, and to know enough about how we all had been hurt to believe it.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>I am glad you can see it, now.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>You behaved with integrity and courage.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>It takes guts to defy everything we have been taught was true about ourselves.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Good job.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>I hope to have that kind of courage, too. And we do, and it doesn't feel like courage at all, once we see what we see.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>We have all been marked by what happened to us. Soon after we see through it, there is compassion. But we have to see it, first. That is hard for us. We have blinded ourselves to so much that was real. We are the caretakers.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>That is what we do.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>We need to learn to say to everyone: I believe in you. You can do this. You are strong enough. See you on the other side of all this. Know that I love you, fiercely.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>:O)</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Cedar</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Going to post a new post. These italics are cramping my style.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>.</em></p><p><em> </em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 654410, member: 17461"] As always, I can be ten thousand kinds of wrong about this. [I]Abused children develop maladaptive coping patterns.[/I] They have to. Normal responses do not operate the same way in dysfunctional families. There is no trust. There is no respect, no essential respect for the wonder of individual persons supporting one another in face of the tragic or joyful things that happen to each of us in our lifetimes. Everything about the dysfunctional family serves the dysfunction, not the individuals in the family. There was no strength, SWOT, for either of us, growing up. [I]We believed their truths about who we were, about where we were weak or ineffectual, because that is what the most dysfunctional member required us to believe for the dysfunctional reality to hold water.[/I] I think you were never [I]physiologically, irredeemably[/I] mood disordered. I think you were tortured, and developed coping responses and fought depression and got all messed up (I did too) just like a beautiful animal from the depths of the jungle turns neurotic in a cage in a zoo where nothing she needs to survive is provided but water and the most meager and inappropriate food. And strangers, strange beings with no compassion, come and stare at her, there in her cage, while she is dying. But all we ever had to do was walk out of that cage. The trick is in believing in ourselves enough to push against the door. And then, head for the jungle instead of returning to the cage [I]especially now that we know it cannot hold us and never could.[/I] [I] Now, how could I know this would be true of your sister? Of course she overreacts. Someone had to react loudly to keep the dysfunction alive. She is, like my sister is too, as tied in to that cage in the zoo as I am and as you are. Sorry for the italics. The site is doing that. The thing about gossip is that it tells us more about the weakness of the gossiping person than it does about the person being gossiped about. My sister can be so mean I can hardly believe it. Here is the dysfunction. Watch for it. So...I don't believe it. Blind as a bat to the dysfunction because I am so afraid to be a hater, like mom, that I refuse to see places where I need to stand up, open the cage, and head for the wildest jungle because it is actually safer than that place where strangers stare into my eyes while I suffer for their sakes, and for my own, while the dysfunction gets stronger. "Cedar, please pass the butcher knife. Your father has his back turned. Thank you." Or Cedar's response: "But I thought you were going to gut my father?" "I decided to turn the knife on you, Cedar. Now, clean up those intestines and other internal organs. What a disgusting mess was inside you, Cedar. Your father and I are going to dinner." That is dysfunctional family dynamics. That we can function at all is triumphant testament to our innate strength. I am so glad you have this in your life, SWOT. That is the one thing we haven't had in our lives. Validation. Now, we do. I kept the texts from my sister, too. I reread them when I begin, based on the outcome, to doubt that I saw what I saw or heard what I heard. This has been an amazing tool. Here again, in dysfunctional relationships, the part of us that disbelieves ugliness in our people backfires on us without validation. We come to believe we were wrong because that is what they tell us. They are practiced in tailoring their relationships ~ not only to us, but to everyone in their lives ~ to reflect the world as they need it to be. I think it takes more courage than we have to see our part in things. Where those built like you and like me automatically take responsibility for and try to fix things, our counterparts in dysfunction automatically blame someone ~ anyone ~ else. Both are functioning from the hurt of the abuse they have sustained. Two sides of the same battered coin. That was the implosion point for my sister and my mother, too. It makes sense that this would be so. That is the heart of the dysfunction. Yes. Not much of a tool, but enough for us to take wing and fly right the heck out of that cage. That is all we ever needed. To see a different truth, and to know enough about how we all had been hurt to believe it. I am glad you can see it, now. You behaved with integrity and courage. It takes guts to defy everything we have been taught was true about ourselves. Good job. I hope to have that kind of courage, too. And we do, and it doesn't feel like courage at all, once we see what we see. We have all been marked by what happened to us. Soon after we see through it, there is compassion. But we have to see it, first. That is hard for us. We have blinded ourselves to so much that was real. We are the caretakers. That is what we do. We need to learn to say to everyone: I believe in you. You can do this. You are strong enough. See you on the other side of all this. Know that I love you, fiercely. :O) Cedar Going to post a new post. These italics are cramping my style. . [/I] [/QUOTE]
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Thanks to all of you who were so helpful this week.
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