I too am listed among those who was raised in a totally dysfunctional surrounding. Whilst my dad and step-mother had their own strengths, as a pair involved in a marriage of convenience, they were like oil and water and not only polluted their would be family but the outside environment as well. It took me a while later in life to figure out that PTSD did not come from going through Vietnam but from trying to survive spontaneous name calling and frequent assaults of the belt or stick. Dad was an amazing craftsman with wood who had a penchant for the ladies other than the singular one he was married to and a propensity for finding the nearest bar after a hard day's work. But work he did and work he taught for that was apparently the plight of mankind and he was more than willing to insist I learn that as soon as I was able to comprehend what sandpaper was used for. My stepmother also worked very hard in the legal field but hated housework hence teaching her son and my dad's two sons how to keep our abode clean and tidy and the laundry washed, dried and folded. She taught me how to cook since I was the eldest and was responsible for the family's nightly rations by the age of 7 and received instructions via the telephone from my stepmother each day after school as to those preparations. Throughout my younger life I thought I was indeed stupid and identified with much different names than that indicated on my birth certificate and in truth, did not find out that I was extremely well gifted until the start of high school when I was well on my own and living on my own whilst also doing college level school work in the sciences and math. It is still amazing to me what perceived love and concern from a total stranger called a high school councilor can do to encourage excellence from a would be social failure. It wasn't that I couldn't do the work in school in the prior years, it's just that I didn't really care. No one can say that they did not learn anything from failing parents because in fact, I learned a lot from them as individual people. Eventually I learned that all knowledge and experience is noteworthy and serves as a teaching instrument much harsher than the belt or stick whilst at the same time is as soft and embraceable as the grandest lover. I found that I could curse those who raised me in a horrid environment and live accordingly or glean the best of what each of them had to offer and add that to my arsenal of life's lessons. There are perhaps volumes that I could write on the subject but to what end? My life is not yet over and I am still going through the rubble as well as an archeologist goes through a find. I pick up a piece here and there that I did not see before which adds to understanding and with understanding comes wisdom and with wisdom comes hope for the successes of tomorrow.
Oh so literate, I wish I had the ability to express as you @Bobby Cole , the same and similar upbringing...that belt, the boots and kicking, the broom handles over my back ( a broken back in fact) The poverty, the mental abuse ..all became oh so familiar and ultimately expected and accepted , from both parents but more so the father.. and many who know much of the story in my personal life, urge me to write a book. ..to what end.I ask ?.. what would it serve but to just open the deepest wounds in me, I couldn't do it, it would all be too, too..painful.. if I could say I learned anything from them, it was how not to raise my own child... that's their legacy to me..
Ah but you give me too much honor for I have often enjoyed the soft like eloquence of your own ability to write. And as to the rest, when experienced with the effects of fire by being burned, we automatically learn how to teach others how to experience warmth without touching them with a torch.
you're too, too kind... ...and your last sentence, is so wonderfully expressed, I will never forget those words . They entirely convey the intention of those of us who wished to break any historical abusive cycle and who accomplished that aim.. With regard to the PTSD..yes I suffered too , I didn't know it's name, I just knew I went through hell post childhood..well into adulthood, I thought there was something wrong with everyone else, not me...but why was I so angry all the time, why?... I know now of course, but I healed myself, perhaps I should have sought help from outsiders, but anyone whomever I'd sought help from in my childhood always let me down so I kept it locked up..only my husband and a best friend knew, and then I realised that some would be too much for them to bear so still some locked up inside me, to save them, to save their feelings and shock.. .... but hey it's on the back stoop now, somehow I managed to achieve eventually enough to stop the anger at the world , .. it's not gone away, but it's out there..leaving me alone, I shut the door on it, and it only becomes real when I leave the door ajar.. Anyway...I realise this is also very depressing for others to read..but @Bobby Cole I thank you for putting everything into perspective and understanding in only the way another survivor can... . I do wish however that none of us had to express such sorrow from our childhoods, and or suffer, but may be, just may be we're the stronger for it..
\ @Bobby Cole How mightily revealing your post is! Having always marvelled earlier at your ability to convey things, ideas perhaps, which are difficult by nature, this post finalizes my opinion. It's almost as though you topologically inverted the hidden inside surface to the outside, and vice versa. Now, regarding the OP, my own familial strengths......mostly might be thought of rather as weaknesses; strengths could only be counted by the negative aspects, I think. My folks struggled through the Depression; my sister had been born in 1930, twelve years before me. My Mother never worked, nor drove a car. My sister's life beginning in high school was not one to be envied. She was married and divorced after a year, my nephew having been born when I was five. She worked, while my Mother raised both nephew and his uncle. By the time that was happening, my sister had run away from home at 15, winding up in jail in Oklahoma, from which place my Dad dragged her back home to the Chicago area. I realized early-on that I had better try hard to avoid the pitfalls my sister had experienced growing up, but, alas, such really turned out not to be the case. Probably one of the few strengths worthy of mention was my consistently good grades in school. But the other shenanigans already known to the Forum deeply overshadow that one. Frank
Yes, my Dad was in the Marines during WWII and switched over to finish out his career in the Navy. Guess all that traveling rubbed off on me, as I joined the USAF and retired in 1994.
Your story can be enlightening to others, too. I also have anger issues that I have to keep bottled up. I read some psychology stuff somewhere that bottled up anger is what leads to depression. Anyway, I have it all under control. As you said, don't leave the door ajar. I may not be healthy to let it out, but allowing "it" to run your life is even worse...and yes, I believe you are stronger for your ordeal.
Perhaps you might be correct but I believe the strength is in the area of adaptability. Having spent a few years in the homeless ministry, many ladies in particular who have had bad childhoods seem to go forward wishing to be loved so badly they accept whatever from whomever and whenever they can get it whether it is the real thing or not. Men, on the other hand deal with things a bit differently. We, in general, have a tendency to carry our childhood teachings forward into the next generation, aping that of what we despised the most.
My Dad was the town drunk and not a happy one. I spent much of my younger years watching my parents tying to out do each other when it came to hurting one another physically and mentally. He committed suicide after he and I got into a knock down drag out. At fifteen I was done being beat up. I use to be angry and blame my Dad but now that I 'm older I just feel sorry their lives were so miserable. The point being my siblings and I grew up in spite of the family. Three of us did OK any way. The fourth one spent most of his life behind bars and living off needy women.
I suppose I could say that my family's greatest strengths were that there were so many of them in one place. Not only were there my parents and four brothers, but I was related to pretty much everyone around. Of course, there weren't that many people around since most everyone's houses were at least a half mile apart. Not that everyone was in everyone's business all the time, but some of them were. I was related to some of my teachers and most of those I wasn't related to had taught my three older brothers as well. My best friends were my cousins, and they were pretty much the only ones I saw during the summer vacation. Now, I know that some people might view this as being a negative but I don't. There were only a few businesses in our town, and we lived more than a mile out of town anyhow. I grew up in an area, and at a time when there were no concerns about anyone harming us, and there were plenty of woods, fields, rivers, and lakes to play in. To make matters easier, we didn't even have to concern ourselves with whose property we were on because there really wasn't any property where we weren't welcome to camp, build a shack, or play war games. When I went to one of my uncle's houses, the ones whose kids were my friends, I didn't knock on the door before I came in, and my cousins didn't knock on our door when they came over. It was a good time and a good place to grow up in. My dad was the Boy Scout leader and the coach of one of our two Little League teams. My mom was a Cub Scout leader, although she hated it. Our church was at the top of the hill that our house was on, so it was easily within walking distance, and it was never locked. Since our little town didn't have a library, the church library served as a community library and was stocked with a lot of stuff that wasn't church related. Better yet, it was never locked. Many a night, I was in the library until 3:00 in the morning. It was spooky in there at 3:00 in the morning, by the way. Church was a given. There was rarely a discussion of whether or not we had to go to church. That was assumed and on the rare occasions when my parents weren't around on a Sunday, I still couldn't skip church because one f my uncles would have come for me.
@Chris Ladewig I think I PM'd you having some suspicion of such circumstance. I truly feel revealing one's inner conflicts, even if only to strangers, (perhaps ESPECIALLY only to strangers), may have a long term healing effect. Thank you so much for talking about it. You might be surprised how closely your past parallels that of many others. Frank
Far from Negative view @Ken Anderson , to me it sounds positively Idyllic..I love to hear of people's happy childhoods, it's like little house on the prairie LOL>.