James Ballantyne

Blog

  • Why don’t people want to believe Abuse Victims? (Reasons below)

    I want to bring awareness to this issue.

    Whether you are an adult or child, a person who has suffered any kind of abuse from another, whether sexual abuse, neglect, emotional, spiritual or financial abuse – you will have encountered one or all of these.

    It is one thing knowing that I have been abused.

    It is another convincing others who might be able to be allies, or to do something about it or for any kind of justice, to listen.

    One of the recurring themes in abuse situation is ‘Why doesn’t the person leave’? as is ‘Why dont you tell someone?’ – and whilst there are barriers to disclosing abuse – like the fear of not being listened to, there are also reasons why someone chooses not to believe an abuse victim.

    These are all choices a person makes when they decide not to believe, stand with, or act on behalf of an abuse victim. Time and time again, it is one of these.

    They are heard a lot by the way. Alot.

    • They’ve only seen your abuser being ‘nice’ – nice people aren’t nice – they’re hiding and masking – helpfulness hiding reality – they’ve been manipulated too….

    • They see that person in the role they are in ‘They couldn’t do that, they’re a christian/police officer/teacher/social worker/vicar’

    • They have believed the abuser by dismissing you based on the abusers projections : ‘they’re just a tell tale’, ‘dont listen to _____ they’re always gossiping about me’

    • They have given that person a role – no point complaining to their boss – their boss employed them, is culpable and that is a position to defend.

    • They dont want to now be responsible for them, knowing this information about them.

    • They have an institution to protect – If this is true, the whole (church, school..) reputation will be harmed – tbh, bury and avoid it and it’ll be worse in the long run…

    (The rules and guidelines in the institution is set in favour of the powerful. The fear of the 0.5% likely false allegation influences policy. )

    • They are equally terrified of your abuser.

    • They are dependent of your abuser themselves, for love, money, status, worth..anything

    • They dont want to see them in the same way you do.

    • They privately do believe you but dont want the drama

    • They believe in a naive reality that people cant be that bad.

    • They believe the myth… ‘oh no a parent or a woman wouldn’t do that’

    • They dont want it to be their problem too

    • They cant understand why its taken you so long to tell them, I mean – you know deep psychological trauma and fear of not being believed..all actually being thrown back… oh… there was a right time was there..?

    • They want some kind of proof, and their memories of the same events are different, or ‘you dont look like someone who has been through abuse’. – as ifs there is a ‘certain look’ ?

    Time to fess up though.

    I was some of these. I was some of these when members of my family described to me the abuse of my parents. So I knew some things, but was not in a position to deal with it, and chose not to, terrified, afraid of losing status and terrified of having to deal with all of it. So I get it. I think I tried to be balanced – whilst still on the avoidance run. I wasn’t ready, and so, I get that some people just aren’t ready to hear it.

    Im not sure that excuses people for whom they have a duty of care for individuals. Yet again Youthworkers were ignore when flags were raised in Telford as they were in Rotherham on child abuse cases. System too busy. System frightened. Its not just statutory authorities. Churches and Safeguarding – on issues like domestic abuse, child sexual abuse and everything else, there’s lip service to look good and then theres reality – institutional gaslighting, please dont tell me it doesn’t go on and none of the above dont apply to you. Institutions wise up. Seriously.

    As Bessel Van der Kolk writes, a memory of Trauma is 99% of the time a truthful one, its just been masked and hard to access, its been fragmented by decades of abuse, wounds and masking, buried away in there and takes time, love and safety to be brought to the surface. Someone in a domestic abuse relationship might not be able to remember childhood abuse. Its being masked. The brain is hiding it for current safety sake. Believe a victim, especially one who doesnt play the victim. Believe the victim when they are upset and angry – wouldn’t you be when your whole life has been affected by abuse. (Bessel Van Der Kolk, 2005, The Body keeps the Score) .

    These are all choices a person makes when they decide not to believe.

    Have you encountered any others?

    And in most of the cases, abuse victims and survivors get it. Honestly. We get why you wouldn’t want to believe us when we say what our abuser did. It is too horrible that even we dont want to go there. Not everyone is going to say ‘I believe your story’ the first time. Problem is is that that first time might be the only time someone will give the opportunity. In other occasions a person might see it later and be able to deal with it (that was me). By not believing the first time the damage can be horrific.

    What did it take for me to change to believe the truth? What might it take for you? What might it take for institutions to do the same?

  • Doing The Hard things

    Hey you

    Just want to say, well done on doing the hard thing

    The hard thing? It was nothing, I just got on with it

    You are incredible, that was brave, that was hard

    Aww shucks, really, it wasn’t much, anyone could have done it

    But you did it, yes you, you are incredible

    Now you’re going too far, all I did was the thing

    But that’s such an important thing, a first brave thing, I’m proud of you, you did the thing

    Yeah, and Im just thankful for all the people who helped me to do the thing, I couldn’t have done it without them

    But you still did the thing, you made the call, you made the decision, you did the thing.

    I had no choice really, was desperate and there was no way out, I had to do the thing

    And you did the thing, at a point of desperation, you did the thing, well done, brave human, you did the thing and now you’re here, you’re alive, you are living, because you did the courageous thing, you changed the pattern to your normal, you did the thing

    True, my friend, I did the thing

    You the hardest thing, brave, courageous, strong you

    I’m just me, anyone couldve done it

    But you did it, you did the thing

    You did the hard thing, you made it happen

    Thank you

    Do you see it now?

    Maybe, but I don’t think I’m amazing for doing the thing

    That’s why I’m here to keep reminding you, you are amazing, you are incredible, you are stronger and more inspiring that you realise. You did the thing.

    How many times did I have this conversation in my journey, and I still do. Not seeing how difficult, or how brave I am for doing ‘the thing’ – whether that thing is facing the pain or shame, whether that’s going to therapy, or choosing to listen to my inner voice and respond, or whether it’s taking responsibility for my feelings, or standing up for myself or others.

    So many times I wanted someone else to do it for me.

    So often before id hidden everything and survived every blow.

    Surviving lone as a great result of being counter dependent. Pretending to survive alone.

    Doing the hard thing meant changing.

    Changing is a hard thing.

    Well done you. Just well done you.

    You Are an Incredible Human, and so am I.

  • Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 32) How their ‘helpfulness’ hid the reality

    I have shared before about growing up feeling incredibly alone.

    In that piece I referred to the fact that the Toxicity of my mother meant that family members were kept at a distance, physical or emotional wedges were dug in place that meant that they stayed away or I was kept away from them. A family divided and when together – the rare occasions, there were more eggshells and mistruths than a cabinet meeting with Boris Johnson held in a poultry farm.

    But there was something else.

    Whilst Family were being divided, neglected, controlled and abused.

    There was another reason that I grew up alone.

    Sprinkles of Helpfulness.

    You see, people who are this toxic do not have friends.

    Barely did anyone willingly volunteer to come around for coffee to chat with them – victimhood persuasion was often needed and overheard on the phone, and No was barely taken for an answer.

    They didn’t have friends, because if she didnt have any, Dad wasn’t allowed them either.

    Sprinkles of helpfulness though.

    What are you on about James?

    They didnt have friends – because that mean seeing people for who they are –

    Instead, they helped people, rescued them – groomed them even.

    Often for money, or to trade ‘taking them to church’ as a bargaining tool – or to have the ‘right ‘ to judge their morality, she deserved to be rewarded for the helpfulness. (entitled, remember..)

    The list isnt endless of the helpfulness, because it was reluctant and not done with any joy or depth, it was tactical.

    People would be taken on holiday – they’ve had such a tough year

    Children would be looked after – before and after school

    ‘Old dears’ would be visited

    Actually, it was rare that a walk back from church on a Sunday wasnt via some old couple or another, knowing what I know now, they were probably being sized up.

    So called friends ‘had personal problems’ or were ‘going through a hard time’- and ‘Its good to be there for them’ – and mysteriously moved away when they recovered, never to be seen again

    Im reluctant to bring my Dad into this, but, prime fixer and helper was his de facto – when it came to fixing boilers, radiators or any DIY, and thats before building an entire church building. Oh and by the way – She was bitterly disappointed that he ‘only’ got a lamp for all his efforts. The church weren’t grateful enough for all the sacrifice she went through – their reward wasn’t enough….

    Yes, Evangelical Church 1990…she was furious when we got home with that lamp and nearly threw it and smashed it.

    Sprinkles of helpfulness

    And note, if you haven’t noted already ; It wasnt genuine. It was for show.

    She expected to be rewarded appropriately for it.

    We stopped looking after children ‘When it wasnt worth the effort’ – not because it wasnt good for the family

    People started to disappear – when they realised their expectations went up – or the fees did.

    One of her biggest projections was that ‘Other people were being taken advantage of’

    When someone else did something for nothing, because it was a good thing to do.

    Especially anyone who did this and took the attention away from her.

    Have you ever seen the film Spotlight (2002)?

    Its what the Catholic Church did – its Institutional Gaslighting.

    Create a mythical reality of helpfulness in one domain of life, whilst abusing others, in an almost similar space. It perpetuates the disbelief. ‘They can’t do that, they’re so helpful’

    Sprinkles of Helpfulness

    People to ‘fix’

    Vulnerable people to prey on

    Institutions fall for the helpfulness – until individuals work them out.

    Or, as in Spotlight, an external agency puts the patterns together.

    Anyway. As a child. The adults that remained relatively close to us – were those who were being helped

    Because no-one stayed. People who realised they were being played didnt stick around.

    There was no warmth.

    Long term friends didnt come around for meals – because there was no such thing.

    So, growing up alone wasnt just about the people who stayed away

    It was that the so many others were dazzled by sprinkles of false helpfulness

    Caught in the myth.

    And people feeling sorry for them, or grateful for them.

    They couldn’t do that – they’ve been just helpful to me

    They couldn’t do that – they’re good christian people

    And it was always someone else fault when I asked that ‘we haven’t seen ______ for a while’…

    Strange that.

    And maybe Institutions that pride themselves on helping and rescuing are places that can validate abusers who have this tactic – who are unaware or choose to ignore or who believe words, defend and protect instead of listen and change. Fixers and helpers hiding in plain sight.

    It would be extraordinary difficult to be able to articulate the level of psychological abuse and neglect we received in the family, it was even harder when the avenues of who this could be articulated to were shut down. But people knew. They were just as afraid of them as I was. But those who they helped – were indebted to them and weren’t safe. What the ‘helped’ didn’t realise – was that it wasnt genuine.

    The myth of my parents helpfulness meant surviving alone.

    Those they helped weren’t safe for us.

    Those they helped also…weren’t safe from them.

  • Discovering Life Internal

    Discovering Life Internal

    And…….. Breathe……

    That kind of day today, long day for me, what about you?

    So maybe

    Just sit down fellow life traveler

    and do nothing, with me

    Sit comfortably

    and watch

    your stomach in front of you

    rise

    and

    fall

    as you breathe

    Take a deep, slow breath

    and watch

    feel the air in your nostrils

    and

    the release of your chest and abdomen

    empty itself

    of the life air

    Did you notice anything else?

    A smell in the room – what was it

    This evenings cooking? Fumes from outside?

    Your own stale socks from a days work, keeping your feet warm?

    What else did you notice, as you watched yourself breathe?

    Nothing?

    Really?

    When you looked at your stomach rise and fall, and took those breaths

    There was nothing?

    Did something disappear?

    For a moment?

    I focussed on my body, and breathed life into it

    Did you?

    And in that moment

    Mind focussed on Body

    Mind focussed on life

    Mind still

    There was a gap

    That magic gap again

    That magic gap in the incessancy of the mind going a billion miles an hour

    Impossible to stop by thinking it to

    But take it else where

    Focus on life internal

    Not stress external

    Life internal

    That magic breath again

    Your beautiful body full of life

    Your incredible body

    As it is.

    Life mystery

    Hold that breath again

    not that thought

    Hold that breath

    and let it be released

    slow, and watch again

    feel again

    Bodyfulness

    The gap again

    Take yourself to the gap

    Body full of joy ness

    of being alive

    of being you

    In the present moment of every new breath

    Peace – Joy – Self love

    Stay a while longer, as long as you like

    The longer you want to, no pressure

    Come back as often as you like, as long as you like

    Im here, because you are here

    in the gap too

    Return

    To that free gift, the free moment of self-truth

    of the life internal

    love internal

    Joy deep within

    each breath.

    But only when you notice.

    Thank yourself for the time to breathe

    Life internal

  • Hiding behind Okay

    Hiding behind Okay

    Hey again, its you

    and me

    having a chat again this evening

    How are you doing?

    fine?

    Thats what I used to say,

    Fine,

    I’m ok,

    I’m doing OK,

    Thats what I used to say.

    And if someone asked me in that slow, actually listening voice, I’d say something like;

    ‘Yeah, I’m OK’

    Why?

    Why did I do that?

    Why do I still do that?

    Do you do that?

    I am doing OK

    When sometimes I am doing nothing at all

    When sometimes I am doing nothing at all that I like doing

    When sometimes its just a pitiful voice saying Im Ok – but I don’t believe myself when I’m doing it

    Because Im not ok, or I wasn’t ok.

    I was just hiding and pretending

    It was more than that though.

    It was being the strong one, being the one who dealt with other peoples problems

    When mine were deep, unknown to myself even, and in the ‘DONT GO THERE’ category.

    JUST DONT GO THERE.

    Its more than that too.

    I didn’t want to burden you with my problems.

    I didnt want to have to need you

    I didnt want to be vulnerable

    I didnt want to not be the ‘Emotional strong one’

    I didnt feel safe – that you might listen

    I didnt want to open up that dark cupboard door, in which everything was hidden.

    I DIDNT WANT TO SAY THAT I WASNT OK

    Hide Everything – behind OK.

    Why… because of this:


    But what about you?

    So, how might you respond to ‘How are you?’ this evening?

    Whats the real answer?

    Its ok that its the real answer

    Just take a moment to listen to that real answer.

    Not the answer of your mind, not the answer you think I want to hear – the answer of the still small voice inside.

    Not the critic one, the heart one.

    The heart voice.

    How is your heart this evening?

    Broken, Weary, Alive, loved, peaceful, happy? A mixture of all of these – quite possibly

    Is your heart breathing?

    What colour does it feel to be?

    Bright red? light grey? purple or Orange? Yellow, green or blue

    Listen, feel

    Its ok to feel the fucking feelings

    Let them out, tears might be the feelings trying to flood their way out

    they might be.

    Dont say you dont have time for them. They’ll find a way one day.

    They won’t do you any harm.

    Its you, your feelings.

    Part of beautiful you is the emotions.

    Took me a while to be safe to share mine, and still it can be a struggle. Im used to hiding them and dissociating from them, you might be different.

    Maybe get a pen, or kids crayon and draw out the feelings, choose the most appropriate colour and make a mess on the page.

    I dont even care if you start by getting angry at me as you read this, Im a sanctimonious blogger who’se just discovered emotions and now writing in the 4th wall to try and be trendy. So Hate me. Start there, fine by me, make it Red, hold the crayon tight and get mad.

    Good.

    Let it out.

    Make it a messy blob, or a poem of expression. Tell it as it is. For no audience.

    Then throw it away, or sell it for a million pounds. Its up to you.

    It didnt have to be anger by the way. Draw daisies and butterflies if thats how you’re feeling.

    Sometimes the good gets ignored doesnt it

    Its time for me to go now

    But I just wanted to check in with you again, Im busy tomorrow so I wont be around.

    Im glad we talked again, thank you for sharing with yourself.

    Did you notice?

    How do you feel now?

    After it came out?

    Write that down too, and now go and get a cup of tea, like I have

    Sleep well

    Bye for now

    Beautiful human.

    See you next time,

    James

  • Why you are more than Enough

    Hey there

    Yes you.

    The beautiful human thats reading this

    One of my readers.

    Thank you.

    Just thank you, not

    for reading this, or liking it

    not for what you’ve done.

    But just for being you.

    Thank you

    You are enough

    The World is a more beautiful place with you in it.

    You, yes you.

    So, thank you.

    Even if you don’t believe it, yet.

    It is true.

    But what about you, I wanted to have a chat with you

    Yes, you, you could be my beautiful fiancé in San Diego, the folks in Ireland who read my blogs first (usually), my readers in the UK, Canada or the Philippines. You could be my family, my friends or anyone…

    It doesn’t matter.

    Its you thats reading this right now, and I want to speak to you.

    Yes you

    I have something to ask you

    Are you ready to listen?

    I mean, really ready?

    I mean, turn off the TV, sit for a moment and prepare yourself listen?

    Dont be scared now, honestly

    You might think I’m crazy to ask you this, but thats just the thing, crazy is just the thing that is abnormal, and normal is crazier than we’d like to realise, thats another story.

    I hope you’re not scrolling quickly, to get to what it is I wanted to ask you,

    you’re taking your time.

    Time.

    Whats time anyway? And no thats not the question, its another tangent… but have you ever thought about time, and how weird it is? To think that that time is on a clock, but memories , thinking, actions and words, seem to exist in a past, present, future dimensions that all get mixed up and thats not on a clock is it, it’s just the now. The now.

    Im writing this in the now. Right now. But your now is now and my now that was now is past now, but you might share this and your now will one day be in the past now, but that thing about time – you thinking about in the future and it’ll come ‘back’ to you, but in the future. It’s to be discovered, but not ‘back’ – maybe ‘back’ is in the future after all. By the time I clicked publish, my now has already gone.

    Sorry, I got distracted with the whole time thing.

    On the subject of sorry. I realise that I forget you sometimes. You, the reader. If I was writing a book, id think I was writing for you, the reader a bit more, id talk to you, with you, and not ‘at you’ or use you like a cat uses a scratching post. Im itching and I write at times like I need you to be a collective therapist, or I want to write so that one day, one person might be helped by something I might say. But I’ve got to be honest, more often than not, its a splurge of mixed up emotional dumping. So, im sorry. Sometimes I do this, the crap dumping, so im sorry about that, I dont treat you very well at times, they say respect your readers, and often I dont even give you a thought. This is a blog not a book – and you haven’t paid £12 for this, but I would understand if you didn’t want to waste 20 mins of your time listening to me process the crap from my childhood, or something I read in another self help book, more keep being added to the resources list above, by the way, discovering myself is feeling like a life work.

    Discovering myself.

    Becoming aware, of who I am.

    Thats the question my friend.

    Who are you?

    Three words, three small words.

    Who

    are

    you?

    Stop and think about it a while

    Pause

    No really, who are you?

    Fellow human, Who is it that you are?

    I just wanted to ask you, as I am asking myself, Who am I?

    I used to ‘think’ that I could think myself into the answer.

    I am good at____ or clever at____, or think of myself in relation to others, I am a fiancé, Dad, friend… or I am a youth worker, I am in relation to a profession, or even a faith, I am a Christian.. …and some of these are still true.

    I could ‘think’ myself into an answer…

    Deep down – who am I? in myself?

    Me, myself and I

    Who am I when I notice myself?

    When I realise that there is a part of me thinking – but that part of me is able to notice who is the thinking?

    That there is space between the thoughts?

    Can I muster just one little space in amongst all the millions of thoughts every day and every moment, but what if I did, give myself time to notice my thoughts?

    Give myself time to notice my thoughts..

    hang on

    who is me, and who is my thoughts?

    is there two of us here?

    A thinker and a watcher? really?

    So who am I really? – Who are you?

    The thinker or the watcher?

    The dream or the dreamer?

    If I am the watcher of the thinker of my thoughts – then..who is the watcher? Who am I

    And..I am not just thoughts, my brain is not just thinking

    It…can… stop…

    Who am I then? Who are you?

    Did you notice… you?

    Who are you then?

    More beautiful that our thinking, perhaps

    Ive got a surprise for you.

    Its time.

    Its time, that now, you notice.

    That space between your thoughts is not to be afraid of, because thats you.

    Part of you waiting to be discovered, your consciousness waiting.

    A gap of no thinking, where joy can be.

    What did it feel like for you?

    Thats you.

    Did you feel it?

    You are that joy.

    It is there, in a gap.

    It is in a gap of you.

    WOW. Isnt that incredible?

    You are Joy.

    It was hiding all along.

    Did you smile when you felt it?

    Im smiling as I realised it too. Im smiling as I realise that one day you might read this and feel the same. Im smiling as you’ve received a gift of joy, a gift from the universe.

    I didnt think you’d mind, knowing this…actually feeling this.

    Free joy. Free space

    Thats all, I just wanted to talk to you, and ask you something, and on the way I discovered things too, and maybe you did too. You are a beautiful human being and the world is a better place because you are in it, you are more than enough, especially if you think otherwise, because..those thoughts are just thoughts…between them, is consciousness radiating with joy – and thats you.

    If you smiled, might someone else?

    James

  • The Challenge of ‘Letting Go’

    The Challenge of ‘Letting Go’

    What does it mean to ‘let go’?

    What does letting go mean, when the damage has been so great – from people who are supposed to be anything but this?

    I thought I had let go of them, one time, but I was running away scared

    Ran away as far as I could – geographically and physically – but running scared of them

    Running away was all I thought I could do

    But

    Running away is pretending

    Running away wasnt wanting to face

    Running away when I couldn’t articulate it

    Running away was saying things like ‘I didnt have a bad childhood’

    Running away wasnt being true to the self I was

    Frightened James running away.

    Thats not letting go.

    ‘They did this to me’

    ‘Its their fault I’m like this’

    I cant change who I am and ill blame them

    Thats not letting go either

    Thats accepting that nothing can change

    And im just their continual victim

    Letting go, means not holding on

    Not holding on to the pain they caused

    or the excuse that I can give them

    Keeping the pain close

    Letting go, means letting that go

    Noting it, seeing it, feeling it, unescapable moments and reminders

    Opportunities to keep healing, not holding

    letting go – and letting go of the shame,

    The shame of things I needed to do to cope and survive

    The shame that I felt responsible for fixing them, soothing them

    The shame of not meeting their expectations

    Guilty by dissociation.

    The shame of being theirs. Their son.

    Identity shame.

    Letting go – means not holding on, means not running away, means releasing responsibility and giving it to someone else

    Letting go – and knowing that I am enough, I have a voice, I have needs and I am free

    Letting go – facing, accepting and making changes to protect myself

    Letting go – is that what forgiveness is? Forgiving myself for what I put myself through..because of them?

    Letting go – of their effects being my story

    Letting go – of having them take more power in my life and future

    Letting go – and being strong

    Letting go – of any myth of normal

    Letting go – expectations of pleasing or meeting their needs

    Letting go – and loving myself

    Letting go- and valuing myself

    Letting go – and releasing the pain

    Letting go – and making myself light again

    Letting go means being the sky and not on their cloud

    Letting go – to discover myself

    Letting go – to be the me I should have always been

    Letting go

    To breathe clean air

    To think clean thoughts

    To be in the present

    It’s time.

    Its time to not carry any longer.

    The inability or rather unwillingness of the human mind to let go of the past is beautifully illustrated in the story of two Zen monks, Tanzan and Ekido, who were walking along a country road that had become completely muddy after heavy rains. Near the village a young woman was trying to cross the road, but the mud was too deep it would have ruined the silk kimono she was wearing. Tanzan picked her up and carried her over to the other side.

    The monks walked on in silence. Five hours later, as they were approaching the lodging temp. Ekido couldn’t restrain himself any longer; ‘Why did you carry that girl across the road?, he asked ‘We monks aren’t supposed to do that’

    ‘I put the girl down hours ago, said Tarzan ‘ Are you still carrying her?’

    Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth
  • Sensing the Mystery of Being Alive

    Sensing the Mystery of Being Alive

    I got up early this morning, waking up early

    After I showered, and said good morning to my love Christelle and read her to sleep

    I sat on the couch, and started to read a book – the same book – but a bit further on

    A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle.

    The view from my couch was a bit like this

    Looking out the windows, above the eye of the book

    Turning the page, in between sips of coffee

    I see movement in the corner of my eye

    A fledging blue tit on the arc of a branch

    Looking at me

    I looking at it

    I didnt rush to get a camera or binoculars

    Just stopped, and watched

    and looked at it

    Looked at it, for what it is

    A bird.

    Two Blue tits (Taken at Cowpen Bewley Woodland Park February 2022)

    Just a very ordinary bird

    But as I looked

    It wasn’t just a blue bird, a small bird, a young bird

    It was a joint traveller in this world

    Sharing the universe with me

    A creature of magic flight

    A fearless wonder

    Taking a moment on a branch

    To look me in the eye

    To feel the same mystery

    of life

    of air

    of flight

    A part of me, and part of it, one in the same universe

    Sense of being in the moment

    Sacred, pure creature, looking at me

    What does it take to notice?

    What does it take to sense being?

    Time to look up

    Time to see

    Time to breathe in and wonder

    To sense the mystery of the universe

    The magic of being,

    of being…Alive.

  • Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 31) It wasn’t a relationship, just roles being played.

    Its a shame that your relationship with your parents has broken down…

    Id like to try and respond to a question that I often get in relation to my Parents. Its based on the relatively frequent statement that I get, from well meaning and concerned friends and also others, and its a difficult thing to try and explain, but I will do so anyway.

    By the way, if you haven’t read it, there’s 30 parts to my survival story, and its here , and theres 15 things not to say to children who have abusive parents here – as there are others to that of above..

    And I completely get it the sense that for some people they have a ‘normal relationship’ or even a viable relationship with their parents – one in which theres maturity, fun, highs, lows, conversations, and an emotional maturity – or an acceptance of growing, changing etc. Its viable, at least – no relationship is normal I guess.

    The thing is though, a broken down relationship and reconciliation requires a number of factors – truth, honesty and also a requirement for change to happen – and importantly – a broken down relationship implies that there was actually a relationship in the first place.

    This is the bit that is and has always been difficult to explain.

    I have described already that I was given a variety of roles as a child – chief comforter of the abusive one, trophy child, ‘mature’ , the little grown up, having to work hard, fixer and responsible, being taken from for her glory – with high expectations of making them proud or avoiding giving them stress.

    I was born with a role.

    My Sister was also born with a role.

    (My Dad was also given a role.)

    All of these roles are in relation to the abusive one, my emotionally immature mother who was and is mother-child and has many indicators of dark-triad personality, showing high narcissism and psychopathy. It was impossible not to have a role-self as a child – and have the choice to comply or reject this role. With fear and punishment for rebelling or threatening too.

    One of the reasons for this is that she played roles too. From an early age I can remember her having to articulate being ‘mum’ now or ‘putting on her ‘dinner lady’ hat on, or ‘loving wife deacon’ role – at church on a Sunday. This got worse as ‘grandma’ , ‘minister’ were added later on.

    ‘Im playing mum role now‘

    Unbeknown to me as a very young child, or even later, this behaviour was normalised – even if it seemed weird – what it might reveal is a splintered personality, deeply – but as a child it meant that there was a falseness to how any interaction was, it was as if it was being played. Disintegrated.

    Maybe this is normal too – but it was very obvious too that the mother ‘role’ was the one that she was grumpily reluctant to do, or fulfil – especially instead of work related, or professional ones – most notably anything to do with being a minister. This was the place where she could dedicate to avoid any parenting ‘role’ – which seemed inferior.

    So, as part of my survival in this dynamic I had to develop a ‘role-self’ – growing up fast, keeping quiet – because what I wasn’t able to be was my true self – adapting myself into conformity in a role, trying hard to be – for security, belonging or reward – were that to ever come, but gave up on that ages ago.

    Nothing around someone so emotionally immature, or psychopath can be seen for itself – it is seen for what it can be for that person to take from, like a parasite. This includes possessions, ceremonies like weddings or funerals (they destroy these) or the general public to denigrate (like waiters etc – big red flag). This included what the three of us around her could be taken from and destroyed.

    If the persons around such a person are playing roles – to survive – with a person who is splintered themselves into roles and creates roles around them to take from … what kind of relationship is there?

    There isn’t one.

    Not a viable, safe one, not one where any sense of real self can be present. Just one in which roles are enforced, played or avoided.

    Some of this ‘role’ / hat wearing is revealed when they make contact via writing or email – its often far too formal (going into business speak) , too spiritual (a high spiritualised self) , or mixing up tenses or mixing up writing in the first or third person in the space of one sentence or paragraph – and rarely using ‘I’ – I’ve written about the confusion of the toxic email here. They often write as if its from the other person – the partner who is ‘once’ – but there are usually clues to this – watch for it.

    Anyway, what am I getting at.

    I suppose what I’m getting at is that part of all of this is an acceptance, of seeing all the roles having to be played – and of realising that because of this – there wasnt an actual relationship – ever. Now, obviously to maintain a role there has to be a lot of pretending, hiding, lying, to maintain appearances and then patterns of denial or justification when threatened. Some of that is what im having to do with therapy, see the roles, and work out what I needed, or what I hid, and denied in myself, feelings, emotions and creativity.

    There wasnt a relationship to breakdown. Just people playing parts to survive a psychopath.

  • Pointless Flowers

    Are beautiful aren’t they….but not very useful

    Unless we remember the bees

    Sometimes flowers don’t make sense

    What do they give us, when survival matters

    No food, nor sustinence

    Just colour

    Just joy

    Just beauty

    Just the moment

    To watch, and slow down

    Look at the flowers, say the mystics

    Look at just one, every day and watch it change

    Watch it and watch you change too

    No two moments ever the same, ever again

    Look at the flowers

    Look

    Be awakened

    By how it reflects on you

    On me

    For what it is, beauty, colour, unique and true

    Sacredness in the beauty

    Butterflies and bees, dancing to their tune

    A human heart open to receive

    A gift

    Affecting senses and taking us to a higher place

    Look at the flower, and let it look at you

    Unpragmatic beauty

    Colour more deep than any screen, scent more radiant than any perfume, touch more delicate than any material

    Look at the flower

    Connect with the flower

    Be at peace as the flower