It’s been a tough week for me. I found out about my brother’s illness and the surgery to remove a kidney from a third party on social media, and then my favorite chicken, my pet, died. I was trying to write this article, but those events sure took my focus away. Discovering my brother has been sick on social media was like getting punched in the head. There was no way to protest everyone keeping the secret without causing drama or making it about myself, so I said nothing, just sent a text of prayer, love, and support. You see, my brother unfriended and blocked me on the socials when I cut contact with my elderly mother, my abuser.

We grew up in the classic narcissist household where he held the title of golden boy and I was the scapegoat. I didn’t understand the dynamic until recently, and it solved a lot of mysteries in my life. Suddenly everything made sense, ugly, depressing, and traumatizing sense, but sense nonetheless. I don’t know why I was surprised that everyone kept the secret – in-laws, nieces, nephews, and several extended family members – but they did, only revealing the truth when he was in the hospital. To say it hurt would be an understatement, and I know it was deliberately done that way, they wanted to shock and hurt me, and they succeeded. It literally would have taken mere seconds for any one of my family members to inform me that my brother was ill, but they stood united, waiting for the great public reveal, and much like my childhood I was blindsided once again.

I am new to the realities of cutting contact with my abuser, and it has only been seven months since I did. I did it because I could no longer carry the pretense and lies that have been pushed on me since I was a child, my body had been breaking down under the stress, and it seemed the only option. I can’t change the deeply ingrained dynamic of narcissism passed down through the generations, all I can control is myself, and I’m working through the years of abuse, reevaluating everything from my new perspective, and consciously trying to heal the complex traumas of my upbringing.

It’s not the first time my family has held important secrets from me, only to reveal them later in some shocking and dramatic way. In the past, I would react quite emotionally, so if nothing else I didn’t cause a scene or make it about myself, as I’ve been accused of doing since I was a very young child. I felt it, though; every bit of it, and it reawakened so much childhood angst in me that I just wanted to crawl out of my mind and body. I had to sit with it, though, sit in the incredibly uncomfortable emotions that the knowledge of my brother’s illness, and the fact that every member of my family kept the secret, inspired in me. I am also pleased to say that I made it through without returning to the old habits I used to use to numb myself, so I will declare dragging myself through this week a heartbreaking, yet healing, success.

The Downside

First and foremost the act of cutting contact will hurt, and even knowing it would hurt, I was surprised by the pain it uncovered in me. The pain was deep, reflecting both the truth of what I lived and survived as a child, and also the things that I have longed for, but will never have. There were feelings of loss, abandonment, and rejection when I finally said enough is enough, and I found that using an emotion wheel was helpful to understand the base of those feelings, which were various forms of sadness and fear – my childhood companions.

People will choose sides, and I quickly discovered it wasn’t my side. And it wasn’t just family members, but mutual friends who decided with no knowledge of the situation that I was in the wrong. I should point out that I hadn’t spoken out at all on social media. I had only discussed the matter with my husband and a couple of close, longtime, friends, so those turning their backs on me were getting their information from somewhere, and that leads to my next point that there will be gossip, slander, and rumors.

My family thrives on gossip, and it’s certainly not the first time that I have been torn apart and scrutinized, and I suppose I should have known there would be no understanding and loyalty for me, but it did hurt. I recognize that my family is invested in maintaining the status quo, and my walking away had to be explained, and the truth does not fit into their narrative. So I’ve just held my head up, spoke only of my situation on my own blog, and kept my laments off social media where mutual friends and family would be exposed to my struggles.

I experienced a lot of guilt and incredible amounts of fear and anxiety in those first few months. The fear was rather ill-defined and free-floating, affecting most everything I did and was not at all helpful in dealing with the flashbacks, but I muddled through. I imagine this point is where a lot of people give up and return, but I was determined. I finally had enough information and knowledge under my belt to understand what I was dealing with and to recognize that there was nothing in my power to change them or the dynamic we had grown to accept as normal.

And finally, there were attempts to lure me back into the chaos. The attempts came in the form of text messages and phone calls where emotional means were deployed to eat away at my compassion and empathy. I responded with as few words as possible, the experience taught me that engaging would only make it worse, so I gave very little ammunition. Soon the messages changed to demands, and again, I responded succinctly, and finally, they gave up trying to “reason” with me, but that didn’t stop the anxiety that struck me each time the phone rang or I received a text.

The Upside

The upsides didn’t happen immediately, but I still recall the morning that I woke up and my first thought was not my mother or my family. I was having my coffee when it dawned on me that the immensely heavy weight that I had carried had lightened a bit, and a tiny flame of hope had appeared in my heart and mind. The fear began to recede, the anxiety lessened, and my sense of humor returned. I will not deny how hard those months were on me, but that first morning waking without that heavy, oppressive, weight assured me I was on the right path.

The chronic pain that I have lived under for a lifetime began to lift, the headaches and tight jaw muscles began to loosen, and after a year of stomach pain and diarrhea, my bowel began to return to normal. This was shocking to me. It’s said that we never really realize the pain we’re in until it’s gone, and as my body began relaxing for the first time in my life, I was amazed at the depth of the constant pain I had been carrying for so long. I helped this release by doing gentle stretches every night, and as I stretched I would remember my abuse, the hair pulling and blows to the head, and then envision those aches and pains and traumas unlocking and leaving my body. In the last seven months, my pain levels have dropped dramatically, and this has been one of the greatest rewards of cutting contact with my abuser.

And finally, I have begun to redefine myself away from the labels and words that have been pushed on me. I find that I’m not a terrible, mean-spirited, or awful person, nor am I depressed, a sour puss, a downer, or humorless. It seems without that horrible weight on my shoulders day in and day out, I’m a rather light-hearted and silly person. This was a revelation to me. The things I believed were inside of me, which I had hated, and worked so hard to change had never existed in the first place. I learned that they were just descriptions pushed on me by someone who was very invested in keeping me down, and were never part of my personality. I am laughing again, finding happiness and joy in the simple things, and I look forward to waking up every morning.

Moving Forward

Healing is a process, it doesn’t happen overnight, and I think it’s important to celebrate the small steps along the way, the small improvements that we notice from day to day. Just the other day my phone rang and I didn’t feel that disruptive jolt of fear and anxiety, and for me, that’s an improvement worthy of celebration.

I will continue to be gentle with myself, to eat to feed my body instead of my pain, stretch and release the tensions that chronic childhood abuse put into me, and continue educating myself on complex trauma, trauma bonds, and narcissism. I will face the terror that speaking out triggers inside of me, and understand that a lot of those reactions were instilled and not who I am. And I will try to remember to celebrate the ups and realize the downs are simply part of the path forward and not the final destination.

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Victoria Hardy

Victoria S. Hardy is a survivor of childhood abuse, domestic abuse, and the loss of her only child. She is also the author of six novels, an artist, a quilter, and a keeper of chickens. She lives with her musician/songwriting husband in South Carolina, along with a dog, cats, and many feathered friends. Currently she is writing her seventh novel based on her upbringing and the long lasting impacts of childhood abuse into adulthood.