I don’t usually share other people’s work on my personal blog but the article at the end of today’s piece really moved me.
Instead of feeling sorry for people that are estranged from their family, notice the courage it took for them to break free. Admire their determination to live a peaceful life free of judgement and abuse. Listen to their journey and celebrate their achievements.
In the beginning, estrangement is ugly. Angry, bitter, tears and snot. What if’s and why’s bounce off the walls. But the storm does pass and for me it passed much quicker than I expected.
It’s been over 7 months since I saw or heard from my Mum. In the beginning the pain was searing, unbearable. But by the start of December I suddenly realized that I was feeling positive. I was sleeping better, the nightmares tailed off. I know it sounds crazy but I look better, I look younger! I’m still packing too many pounds, but my eyes are bright, my skin is smooth and clear and my smile comes easily.
For 45 years I persisted in trying to maintain relationships with my birth family because I believed that’s what I was meant to do. And I know I didn’t imagine the happy memories I hold onto – there were good times for which I’m grateful. I talk about those good memories with my sons and we laugh at photographs and I remind them that those good memories are forever.
However, most of the time during that 45 years I carried a stone in my chest, a heart full of hurt. The criticisms. The judgements. The take, take, take and get little or nothing back. I never felt understood, never felt good enough. I naively tried to solve everyone else’s hurts whilst neglecting my own needs. In my birth family, secrets and lies were the fabric that held us together.
The hardest thing for me was that I ALWAYS wanted to be a better person. I loathed my hot temper and hypersensitive soul. My brain was full of chaos and dark. I knew I was different but didn’t know why. I wanted, I needed to understand myself so that I could heal my million hurts and be the person I wanted to be, a version of me I could like and be proud of. I wanted to be the BEST me, not the broken, damaged, shadow of me.
In contrast and without exception, my birth family wallowed in their woes. It was easier to blame others than tackle bad habits. Easier to let people down than change their behavior. Easier to keep repeating the same horrible mistakes than to take control and reshape their destinies.
But that’s what I did. I changed my destiny. I searched and fought for answers so I could understand my neurology. I was rewarded with my Autism diagnosis as well as one for Bipolar 2 disorder. How my heart sang! Finally I had answers, explanations. It was like someone had given me the rule book, the manual to my brain.
I started to make more thoughtful decisions and lifestyle choices. I stopped forcing myself to socialize when I’d rather be at home with my boys. I started carving out regular time for myself to explore my passions in photography and writing. I gave up alcohol completely – too many years using it as a crutch to enable me to attend social gatherings. I took control of my anxiety and started driving my first car, finally using the license I’d earned years before.
I even got a job training other people about Autism. After years working in big corporates it felt so empowering and rewarding to give something back to real people. People like me. Helping them understand the Autistic brain is both a privilege and a passion. In those 3 years since I received my diagnosis and with the unwavering support of my lovely husband, I carved out a calmer, happier more gentle way of living that works for me, N and the boys.
Interestingly, the more I moved forward and whilst my confidence and self esteem grew, my birth family became increasingly irritated by my evolution. My openess about my needs as an Autistic person and my determination to protect my fragile mental health, saw me patronized and ridiculed. My sobriety was seen as spoiling their fun. My decision not to host big family gatherings (since the cost to my pocket and my emotional well-being was too high) saw me labeled as selfish. I can’t think of one occasion when any of them shared a genuine ‘well done’. My efforts were ignored and success went uncelebrated.
When I tried to use myself as an example, to show them what can be achieved with hard work and a commitment to change, I was rejected. How dare I criticize them, they were just fine being miserable, self medicating, blaming anyone and anything except themselves.
I get that my honesty and directness is unnerving. But to me it was a no brainer – don’t hurt the people who you love and who love you. Be better, be kinder. Commit to change. Stop lying. Because the alternative is being stuck living that tired and dusty lie that has passed through generations. Let me tell you, it’s a misconception that you must put up and shut up!
So whilst my recovery from the act of estrangement may seem quick, I now realize that I’ve been slowly cutting the strings, untangling myself, for the last 3 years, ever since I got my Autism diagnosis.
Of course it still makes me sad when I hear that some of my brothers persist in leading angry lives, hurting partners past or present, teaching their kids that conflict is normal and pretending to themselves that everything is ok. I think of the innocent, fun, loving little boys they were and I can’t blame them. We had no role models. We just learned to get by.
What I want to say to them is, live well. Be kind. It’s never too late to change, to improve, to grow. Don’t repeat our parents mistakes. Pity them if you want, make excuses for them, just don’t BE them.
As for my Mum who I loved with all my heart and invested so much time and care in….the Mum who repeatedly refused to discuss or revisit my hurts, who denied, denied, denied and in doing so abandoned my beautiful sons too….I only wish you well and hope one day you can forgive yourself.
Pride is a dangerous thing. If you are too proud to look at your actions, to admit mistakes, to say sorry, you don’t just risk losing the person you damaged, I think you lose yourself too. Our children are only 6 and 9, but even they marvel that their Nanny hasn’t come banging on our door begging for forgiveness.
Still, that time has passed and as the article below describes, we have found new family now. Fellow parents of children with additional needs. Fellow cat lovers. Hockey team mates. The teachers, cub leaders and swimming tutors who help our boys achieve their potential. The work colleagues who have our backs. Maternal and paternal Aunties who keep us in their thoughts and hearts. N’s mum & stepdad, his siblings and their Littles – they are the ones who have helped us heal and are on the journey with us.
So anyway, read the article, it’s seriously good. Estrangement is ugly and painful and sad but coming out the other side can be truly beautiful.