Navigating the fallout from telling your story of trauma
In my book Being Broken: Tales and Essays of Survival and Death from Narcissistic Parental Abuse, one of the main overall topics of the book is generational trauma and how that affects families. To do that, I delved into the family histories of my mother, my father, and my stepfather. To put it all together, I engaged with some family members, the stories my mother told me about her family, as well as my personal experiences. In the book I did not use their names, nor my own, to protect them and myself. I shared the book with those I thought would accept it as my story, and those that I hoped would respect my experiences and who were, I believed, relatively level-headed and reasonable. Who I did not share it with were the ones that I knew would react with anger and denial, and those that I knew were flying monkeys (those that support the narcissist and defend them) to my mother’s Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD). Unfortunately, I misjudged a couple of them, and I found that I had kicked a hornet’s nest as they shared it amongst themselves, including those that I didn’t want to read my book, and attacked me.
When you live a life with a parent with NPD, suffering abuse, manipulation, and lies, you may unwillingly be living in a type of false reality. Narcissists have a proclivity for creating an elaborate fantasy to project a perfect life or to play the victim. This is what I discovered regarding the family history my mother shared with me. Did I make a couple of factual errors? Yes, and I owned up to them and will be making adjustments and revisions accordingly (they are important but minor). However, there was one particular story about one of my uncles that I had been told my whole life, repeatedly. As it turns out, the story may not be entirely true. My mother’s family is prone to gossip about each other, particularly my mother, and I am not surprised that this tale may not be accurate. Now, while this story may not be factual according to the feedback I got about it, it is still an essential part of MY story.
Not only was this tragic tale of my uncle told to me repeatedly, it was used as a kind of threat about substance use by mother, even as she would drink almost daily. The other side of this truth coin is that my mother’s family is also known to keep secrets, not only from each other, but from members of their own families. My cousin was very young when her father died; is it possible that the truth has been kept from her? Yes, it is possible, but that is only speculation. The key question here is why my mother would create this elaborate lie and then tell it repeatedly, especially about one of her brothers. What purpose would it serve unless it was a form of manipulation and control over us, her children? Regardless if it is the truth or a lie, it still shaped my beliefs and understanding of my mother’s family dynamics and is entirely relevant to telling my story. I can accept that it may not have been truthful, but I will still share it as an essential core memory of my childhood.
What I will not abide are the attempts at gaslighting, coercion, passive threats, and outright denial of my personal experiences from and with members of my mother’s family. I know my truth; I know my experiences; I know my reality; and no one will take that from me again. Those family members who wish to live in their self-created perfect realities can do so; but if they attempt to gaslight what I personally witnessed and experienced, I will draw a firm line in the sand. And I have; I have cut off communication completely from most of them, keeping a couple of lines open for those that understand and respect my story, despite potential flaws.
The tragic loss of my sister and stepfather, as well as the hospitalization of my mother, has revealed many of my mother’s family members’ true faces. In the last 3 years, not one of them have come to visit her in the care facility where she lives. The family that would dance in a big circle singing “We Are Family” by Sister Sledge at family gatherings has all but abandoned their sister to loneliness and madness. They kept insisting that my mother, who suffers from declining dementia, travel to them to visit, which I would have to organize and support. For my mother’s 75th birthday, I had to practically beg them to come here to visit as my mother can no longer travel on her own. Then, upon arrival, they refused to visit with me as a form of punishment for going no contact with the mother who abused her children our whole lives, and continues to do so with me.
So, as someone suffering from Complex Post Traumatic Disorder, how have I navigated this upsetting series of events? With self-compassion and self-respect. I have been suffering from rumination, self-doubt, dissociation, and overall dysregulation; however, I am working through it better than I anticipated. I have come to learn that this response is the inner child in me that was constantly denied their truth and attacked if he ever told it. The body remembers, and my initial responses to all of this were those of a child who was being punished for telling their truth. During meditation, I have reached for that child, kneeled down, and let him know that I believe him, and that he is safe. I am still struggling with some dysregulation, but it has lessened, and I can see the other side of this.
I knew the book would upset family members, but only members of my mother’s family have shown disrespect for my story. Members of both my father’s and stepfather’s families have accepted my story, shown respect for it, and discussed it with me instead of sending threatening emails or angry texts before blocking me on social media. When we, the abused, choose to tell our story and the flying monkeys, the enablers, and the deniers attack us for it, it is not about us. They are not angry with us; they are angry at the mirror we have put in front of them. They project, they rage, they try to take it from you. Do not let them. Know your truth, tell it so that others may feel supported and seen. Do not deny the world your wisdom or history. Be loud and proud; be honest and vulnerable; be you.
