For those of you who have been abused or have experienced abuse of any type- mental, verbal, emotional, or physical- this one is for you. Having a nodding acquaintance with all of them doesn’t make me an expert, but I do believe it gives me a seat at the table. Like anything else, when you’re in the middle of it, the walls feel high and the situation inescapable. However, if you can fly up high enough to gain a birds eye perspective, it will make a difference in how you see yourself in all of it. I’ve always believed that what doesn’t kill you will make you stronger, but from my current perspective I see that God has held and protected me my entire life. There is simply no way I could have survived all of the bad decisions I made as a result of my toxic childhood.
Abuse is about power- plain and simple. The most common forms of abuse occur between parents and children, and spouses- one to the other. My abusers were both of my parents, but predominantly my father, a narcissist and raging alcoholic. He believed that his children were his personal property, to be used, abused and discarded at his will and based on how he felt at any given moment. Although my mother picked up some of his bad behavior, her biggest sin was her lack of intervention.
In my honest opinion, a mother should always protect her children, no matter what the outcome, so she was complicit. However, I must allow for her upbringing, her ingrained views of marriage and the fact that she was also a captive. This is difficult, because my natural inclination is to protect my mother, but I promised transparency to my readers, and I intend to be brutally honest.
Abuse can force the subject down a path they are unwilling to take and most likely would not have chosen, given the opportunity and an equal playing field. These life choices may have consequences that absolutely wreck your life, such as imprisonment or death to oneself or others. Abuse can result in brokenness beyond redemption or simply a bad attitude.
A toxic childhood usually produces a defective and dysfunctional adult. I think I took first prize in every category! At the age of 12, I attempted suicide with a bottle of aspirin. It wasn’t enough to kill me but the ringing in my ears lasted for days.
Abuse often results in sibling rivalry and bullying. My relationship with my two closest siblings was a disaster. Although there were five of us, two of them were much older and had their own lives during my adolescent years. Following a five year gap, my mother had her last three children in a four year period. I was in the middle, flanked by brothers. There was always an odd man out with the other two “ganging up” on them. We ruthlessly criticized one another’s defects (pimples, scars, broken teeth). When I was about 10 or 11, I pushed my younger brother too hard and hurt him. He put a package of saltine crackers and a jar of peanut butter in a shoe box and proceeded to run away. I remember panicking and shouting after him to come back. I was terrified of what to tell my mother when she got home from work. To this day, I don’t have a relationship of any kind with any of my siblings. I don’t think it’s anyone’s fault- we are simply too broken.
I started taking drugs and drinking before my 13th birthday. It wasn’t until many years later that I began to analyze my behavior. Even though it was the mid-70s and the drug culture was in full swing, I was still kind of young to be that ensconced in it to that degree. I remember being so high, I walked into a closed door in my seventh-grade French class. Although the teacher didn’t say anything, everyone else got a kick out of it. There may be some reading this that were in the classroom that day.
It’s amazing to me now as I look back, at how my father tried to break my spirit. He would tear up my favorite jeans and call me terrible names. He made my life hell, and then wondered why I was so morose around the house. Especially when all of his friends told him how friendly and outgoing I was when I rang up their groceries at the local supermarket. We tiptoed around the house, careful not to wake the sleeping giant. I didn’t know it then, but I was really ANGRY! Drugs and alcohol helped me to bury the feelings and anesthetize the negativity that was heaped upon me every day.
In an effort to avoid long-windedness, I will fast-forward this narrative. I graduated from high school in 1977, worked two jobs for the summer and went to live in London. With a backpack, a sleeping bag, and $100 in my pocket, I was not warmly welcomed across the pond. It’s a story for another time, but I actually ended up being deported a year or so later.
Although I was highly functioning and always had a good job, I progressed through one failed relationship after another. My first marriage at 20 years old produced two wonderful children, now 36 and 39. Domestic violence ended that marriage after 4 years and I became a single mother of a two year old while six month’s pregnant.
I continued to drink and abuse drugs through my second marriage to another highly functioning addict. We had the nice house and cars, but the marriage fell apart when my boys got older and their stepfather began to be abusive and confrontational toward them. When they began to get in trouble because of his verbal abuse, I had to make the decision to leave him and all the goodies. However, it didn’t take long for me to begin another toxic relationship and we’re starting to see a pattern here. I was getting really good at making bad decisions.
Throughout all of this chaos, I held middle-management and engineering positions, got a degree, operated a very successful cleaning business, and finally moved to Florida in 2005. My parents had retired to Lakeland 15 years previously, and at that time they were in their late 70s. Fed up with the harsh New England winters, we made the decision to move south, thinking we would be nearby to help them as they aged. Hindsight being 20/20, I should have asked how they felt about it. I pursued a career in real estate, and with Brian’s carpentry skills, we did well investing, flipping houses, and building a portfolio of rental property. Life was pretty good.
Living in close proximity to my parents, we got together regularly and Brian often helped out with a project or task. I quickly realized that their toxic behavior was still alive and well, and the abuse continued, resulting in varying periods of estrangement. Not one of my three brothers had had a relationship with my parents for many years and my sister only visited briefly a few times a year. Although my parents did very well for their age, I was called upon often. I was happy to help them and it was never a problem. The big issue was they continued to abuse me like my former twelve year old self. Brutal and pernicious at times, I hung in there, dodging darts and arrows, forgiving and forgetting, wanting so badly to make this work.
Despite my continued alcohol abuse, my real estate career flourished and I obtained a Broker’s license. I was active with the local board and chaired the Community Service Committee. Brian and I had our share of drama, usually attributed to heavy drinking, but we muddled through and managed to enjoy life as we knew it. By this time, my drinking career spanned more than four decades and my life was not always as pretty as projected. There were blackouts and my own toxic behavior. I am not proud of it- I’m just being honest. While this is pretty painful, my goal is transparency, spiritual freedom and catharsis. Hopefully, my testimony will strike a familiar chord and begin a dialogue.
In 2014, my marriage on the rocks, I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. I heard about Jesus’ redeeming power of salvation from a close friend battling cancer. Looking back now, I recognize many other opportunities over the years, but I wasn’t ready to accept Him. Praise God, this time I succumbed to the overwhelming power of the Holy Spirit and my life changed radically.
Over the next couple of years, I studied the Word, attended Bible studies and the chains of alcoholism were broken by the power of the Holy Spirit. I was baptized. Unfortunately, our faltering relationship of 21 years could not withstand the effects of my total heart circumcision and sobriety, and we divorced in 2017.
I received word several hours ago that my father is dead. I feel a strange mixture of relief and regret. We are (were?) currently estranged; I have not seen nor spoken to either one of my parents for a little over a year. Until then, despite the toxicity, I had continued to pursue a relationship with them, because I believe Honor Thy Mother and Father is not a suggestion. I proclaimed the gospel to them often, with and without words, fearing for their mortal souls. My readers know I am 7000 miles away and quite helpless to do anything for the moment. However, I am praying for a reconciliation with my mother when I return to Florida next month.
I know I am not alone in my struggle with abuse and the many faces of relational toxicity. It is my heart’s desire to share some of your stories here. We are all broken in some way and can learn to heal through the experiences of others. Anonymity is fine. I will publish it here unless you indicate otherwise.
Thank you for your time and attention. I am so grateful for the support I have received in the past several weeks. Love and peace to all!
Marie, Please accept our sympathy on the loss of your father. I know it must be hard for you, being so far away, but you are a strong, beautiful person. All of your past makes you a part of who you are today. You have God’s love and ours, Mary Ann and Dave
(Looking forward to seeing you when we get back????? Who knows when??????)
You have been on my mind!!! Prayers for your family…. if you need anything please text me, I am happy to help.
I am amazed by your stories and heartfelt honesty. The winds will bring you back to FL if and when the time is right. Until then…. just keep swimming!!!
Hi Marie,
I just read this post and was very moved. I can relate to much of what you shared. I’m sorry about your father’s passing and hope that you will find some peace with that very troubled relationship. And I hope that you found a good home for yourself and your friend in Jerusalem. Sending my very best.
Thank you so much Marie for your candid words. For me, it’s the siblings who were/are the problem… still. While I’m certain most if not all of that dysfunction came from their childhoods as well, they were, as you said… my MOTHER and FATHER and I PRAISE GOD that I learned before they died… to HONOR them. Period. The hate filled siblings didn’t like that either! LOL
Wow! Similar stories….yes, we are all broken in one way or another.
Leonard Cohen’s “Suzanne” comes to mind “….only drowning men could see him…”