It's a question we Cassandras ask our selves all the time... until the realisations hit anyway.
After branching this question out to the women in my Cassandra support group, I found clear correlations:
"My mum is a narcissist."
"My parents died early on in my relationship/ it wouldn't have lasted if they'd lived."
"Narcissistic Dad."
"My mum had ASD and alexythmia."
"I was sexually, physically and emotionally abused."
"My childhood was filled with death, rape, insecurity and poverty."
"I had a mother that made me feel utterly worthless."
"My mum built my codependence/she had a temper."
"My father had ASD."
"My mother was depressed and focused on herself."
"I spent most of my childhood feeling worthless and unloved."
"I am quite sure my Dad had ASD."
"My Dad abused us."
"My Dad was simply emotionally unfulfilling."
"My mum is a narcissistic alcoholic."
"My Dad has ASD."
Each of these are separate responses from separate people.... I see a pattern of parental absence and abuse.
How did I end up in a supposedly, committed relationship and having children with, an emotionally unavailable man? One whom I had even consciously selected for his stability, gentleness and respectability?
The original key, for me, lies in my childhood. Like many Cassandras, I grew up with an emotionally unavailable father, who also happened to be alcohol dependent. He required alcohol to stabilise his anxiety; a happy drunk- miserable sober. His anxiety and need for control, I now believe, is symptomatic of an undiagnosed autistic spectrum disorder.
Being a girl, he didn't understand me, didn't want to, saw me as a problem when I showed emotion or had my own mind. His temper was terrifying and I tip-toed around his moods and rages, much like my mother did. She grew up, one of four siblings, with unsurprisingly, an emotionally unavailable parent- this time her mother. Mum also had a disfigurement which was very clear for all to see and she was bullied as a result, by not just her school friends, but her siblings too.
Even as a young child, I knew Mum had low self-esteem- she tried too hard with everyone and would flop onto the sofa in an exhausted heap post-school-pickup. I co-slept with my mum until I was 4 years old, followed her everywhere and she rarely left me with anyone. I remember my overwhelming love for her. She was incredibly present, but very obviously, depressed as she too, was suffering from emotional neglect. At weekends, we'd join Dad in the pub, Mum would get all dressed up, happy to be included in his addiction and she'd sip identical pints, trying to connect with him on some odd, superficial level.
Now and then, she'd gravitate to the women and order a wine.
By the time hormones surfaced, our home was intensely dysfuctional. Both parents were drinking alcohol irresponsibly, to the point that my brother and I learned to cook, wash and iron our clothes before age 13. Sunday roasts would burn in the oven because they never made it back from the pub in time and Christmas drinking often led to bouts of domestic violence which I often found myself caught in the middle of, whilst my brother hid in his room. Our neighbours must have heard the abuse, but nobody ever spoke out or asked if my brother and I were ok- I never looked a neighbour in the eye; my teen years were shrouded in shame.
I got out early, left home at 19, whilst studying at university and never went back home for longer than a few months at a time afterwards. I had to return a few times when I was desperate after that, but I never stayed long. One evening, I was driven away in a police car at 19, having experienced domestic violence- not my Dad's either, but my brother's. I had called the police myself, finally calling out their behaviour as wrong. Dad got aggressive with the police officers in defence of his protégé. My brother ran off for a few hours and then returned once he knew the police had gone.
Mum sat crying in a helpless heap.
I looked for love everywhere after that. In charismatic and narcissistic, abusive, drug-taking, emotionally unavailable boyfriends who gave me STDs. I lost myself. I was always the drunk friend on nights out. An abortion later and I started losing my grip on reality, whilst also being bullied at work by an awful female boss. Throughout all of the trauma however, I managed to keep going academically, as if I knew it was my only way out of my messed up life.
Looking back, I'd always felt neglected by my Dad, but this new abandonment by my Mum, cut deep. She was still there, we still had a relationship; she paid half my rent for a while out of guilt, but she became extremely emotionally distant in my early adulthood as she pursued a professional career. "Something for me" she would say. I realise that early adulthood was the time I needed her most of all and it's a lesson I've learned from myself as a Mum.
After a mental breakdown, I went to live abroad for a short time, which was exactly what I needed. I left the shame and trauma behind me, but I still wasn't making healthy choices, I was still looking for love in all the wrong places.
So, I returned to England and bagged a very demanding and professional job, a bit like Mum had. It stabilised me. I was too exhausted to get drunk at weekends, too focused on achieving in my work- it felt academic and that was one area of my life I could excel in. I buckled down for 18 months and lived a very solitary, predictable, boring life and it was just what I needed. There were no men, hardly any irresponsible friends, no fun, just hard work. Mum did the same ironically, she left my Dad, got stuck into work and we became a little closer, until she found a new boyfriend.
And then came stable, predictable Peter.
He slotted into this mundane chapter of my life easily... someone to look forward to. But, I realise now that although I was living a stable lifestyle, practically speaking, emotionally, I was still extremely unstable. I was grateful for his attention- I was his special interest at first don't forget, imagine how that may have felt for someone like me, with the background I have. Like my mum, I had developed incredibly low self esteem and although I wasn't looking for love in the wrong places anymore, the wrong "love" still found me.
On reflection, being with Peter has given me the opportunity of therapy. An entire 8 years of it! Therapy has saved me, I've re-parented myself, found love in my beautiful children and I rarely drink alcohol anymore. Peter was a choice I made when I was low in confidence, low in self esteem, low in wisdom and knowledge and low in love. Choosing Peter was a product of years of emotional neglect, or maybe I never really chose Peter at all, maybe I sat back and let him choose me.
I missed all of Peter's red flags, because my own red flags were bigger and I was too busy trying to hide them. I realise now that he of course, was doing the same (on a subconscious level anyway).
Peter is also the product of emotional neglect due to (I believe) a narcissistic mother and an autistic father, but they had a nicer house, they rarely argued with their children and they were a million times more helpful than my own parents. But strip, it all back and the issues are the same, minus alcohol. Peter and I had an awful lot in common, we just didn't know it at the time. Our energies connected on some subconscious level.
The cycle of trauma will continue unless it's broken, I believe that I will need therapy for years yet, to un-do the trauma and destruction that my FOO (family of origin) left me with. I am extremely lucky to have had a very loving, calming and wonderful influence in one of my grandparents who I was incredibly close to growing up, so there is some good there to hold on to.
I'm not perfect, I am by nature, very, very irritable and noise intolerant after a childhood full of shouting. I'm working on that. But as for Peter, I worry about the impact that his low self esteem, low emotional intelligence and lack of self awareness will have on our own children. I can't shield them from everything, it's hard enough trying to shield them from all my shadows, let alone his.
I hope that one day, I'll meet an emotionally healthy man to be a positive influence in their lives and to share my own life with. But really, what I've always wanted is for Peter to go to therapy, like I have and grow, blossom in his own way. That won't help our relationship now that he's left us, but it may help our children and break this generational cycle- that would be the gold at the end of the rainbow. 🌈
No comments:
Post a Comment