Feed The Good Wolf

Tag: abuse

  • Emotional Violence

    I want to start off by I do not believe in violence. Except in the exceptionally rare cases of self defense when someone is imminently about to take a life, violence is never the right, moral, just path.

    Physical violence is condemned and punished far more frequently than emotional violence. There are cases of physical violence that are seen as objectively immoral, such as premeditated murder. Others cases still might involve the death of someone, such as cases of self-defense, but are seen through a different lens. Emotional violence on the other hand is far less cared about, yet it can take lives too, albeit in an indirect way.

    Someone who has encountered emotional violence may lose all will to live, turning to hard drugs, alcohol, and other coping mechanisms. Having been unsuccessful in escaping their emotional harm, they throw away their potential – a life ended. Another may turn the emotional pain inward and end their own life.

    Others may turn the emotional pain outward, and redirect the emotional violence received upon them into physical violence upon others. School shootings stemming from merciless bullying is one such example. Generally speaking, the physical violence is remembered but the emotional violence provoking the behavior is not. People remember the massacre, but not the circumstances that led up to it. Both should be remembered; but, for different reasons.

    Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it

    This saying from George Santayana illustrates why both should be remembered. The narrative of “school shooter massacres students” has a much different context than “school student revenge kills tormentors.” One narrative focuses on the physical violence. The other narrative speaks to the emotional violence escalating to physical violence. This narrative is rarely heard and may be supressed in fear of copy-cat killings, resulting in yet another student suffering from emotional violence turning to physical violence; however, doing so only allows the cycle of violence to continue. The takeaway lesson is never learned and history is repeated time and time again.

    The school district I went to had a zero tolerance policy. If there was ever physical violence, all parties caught fighting would get in trouble, regardless of the circumstances. I was taught to never fight back – that it would go on my school record and I could forget about college. When I was almost killed at school, I didn’t fight back, even though I could have died. Long before this though I was subject to escalating emotional violence at school. This, however, the school did not care about. The rare time teachers heard of bullying, they would simply say “stop it”. While this may have temporarily paused the bullying, it did nothing to remediate the situation. The emotional violence continued.

    Between the emotional violence at school and the emotional neglect at home, I found myself in a very dark place. The first time I remember wanting to kill myself was in fifth grade – emotional violence turning into physical violence upon the self.

    Passive suicidal idealization resurfaced from time to time until it became active suicidal idealization over a decade later. I simply couldn’t see how any path moving forward was going to be better than simply ending my life. It wasn’t to get attention, it wasn’t a cry for help, I was in a very dark place emotionally. I downed a bottle of pills and ended up in the hospital. That was when I started to turn my life around.

    Justified or not, externally visible or not, there’s always a fairly clear indication of physical violence – a physical harm. Such physical harm can be diagnosed by a physician. Emotional harm may be readily apparent to mental health professionals or obscured from view with an uncooperative patient. When physical harm is severe enough, there are hospitals and even emergency rooms for intensive care; however, emotional harm is frequently left untreated.

    My parents demonized mental health as a whole, even when I begged to see a therapist as a child. I was told that mental health was a scam and doctors were just trying to push pills and receive kickbacks from pharmaceutical companies. Other people in my life insinuated there’s a stigma of going to therapy – that it’s looked down upon.

    Imagine for a moment how ridiculous it would sound if physical violence was treated in the same manner. Imagine a child just broke their arm after falling from a tree, the bone protruding from their skin. Now imagine their parents refusing to see a doctor. Sounds absurd doesn’t it? Child protective services would be involved for neglect.

    Emotional harm can be just as destructive, yet far more frequently ignored. Too many people want to be seen as “strong,” dismiss seeing a therapist saying “they’re fine”, or claim they “don’t have time” while their metal health degrades. I have personally witnessed these people go on to hurt others, propagating the cycle of emotional harm. I have observed relationships be ruined, families torn apart, children estranged from their parents … and for what? To seem “strong?”

    It’s time that bullying is stopped. While I understand that is easier said than done, there have been programs developed to assist schools. These have resulted in fewer bullying incidents in school and when bullying occurs, it is addressed instead of being ignored. One such program is “The No Bully System” by “The Power of Zero.” As a society we need to learn there’s a better, healthier path forward, free of emotional violence.

    If you or someone you know has been the victim of bullying, there are resources available such as https://www.stopbullying.gov. If you see something, say something. Silence is violence.

    #FeedTheGoodWolf

  • Can of Worms

    My therapist claimed they opened a can of worms today. Last week my therapist had asked me to generate a list of characteristics of my ideal partner, and we started our session by talking about them. Where that conversation ended up going left me speechless by the time I left. I drove home in silence, contemplating what was said, even dissociating on the way home. I had to stop my vehicle and recollect myself before I could safely make it home. Before I get into all that, I’ll share some additional backstory.

    I never understood the relationship between my parents. Not once. I’m not sure how my father even got a second date, no less got married and had kids.

    On my parent’s first date, my dad “forgot” about my mom and abandoned her at a mall. Personally, that single action would have disqualified someone from a potential dating pool, and I’d seriously consider ghosting them moving forward. But no, despite this major red flag, they continued dating and eventually got married, rented an apartment together, and eventually bought a house.

    After they moved into their new house, my dad started trying to make as much money as he could, volunteering to travel for work to boost his salary and bring home additional income. Thing was, he was traveling and out of the house for well over 90% of the year. My mom once painfully described this to me as feeling like her heart was being ripped from her chest when he would come home, only to leave once again. Eventually, she broke. She moved back into their old apartment and changed the locks. She couldn’t see this marriage going anywhere. She was done.

    When my dad came home from traveling and found out his wife wasn’t there, he flipped. He pulled every dime out of their bank accounts and went to confront her. She did not want to speak to him, but he was banging on the door so violently, a family member had to come restrain him and hold him back. Eventually, the police were even called. I never really heard the end of this story. My therapist pointed out today that she likely went back to him because of the financial pressures of having all her money taken. Personally, I would have rather had him arrested and imprisoned.

    Things never really improved between them. Further fights included the time my dad canceled our health insurance. The multiple times where my dad spent his vacation days while still at work to unnecessarily draw a double salary instead of spending some time off with his kid’s during summer break. Then there was the time my mom and dad were yelling so loudly I could hear them from a different floor, through a closed door, through headphones at max volume. There have been quite a few times where my therapist has looked at me in stunned disbelief while describing events from my childhood

    My mother was no angel either. She prevented me from seeing a therapist as a kid – even after begging to see one – because of her own views about mental health. She would yell at me to toughen up when I was bullied at school, telling me how good my life was, how so many people have it worse off than I do, and told how I’d never survive in the real world. I’ve written about my mom a fair bit in earlier posts, and now I’ve written some tidbits about my dad.

    Through a lot of therapy spanning over a decade, I’ve come to be able to admit that what I went through wasn’t “normal” and that I wasn’t blessed with good parents. My childhood left me traumatized, and I feel a certain level of revulsion for both of my parents. I have given them many chances to attempt to redeem themselves and they have continually let me down. From my mom threatening to throw my sister’s boyfriend off a roof, to hearing they they prayed for me to not be trans, to my dad using racial slurs, to my mom insinuating my partner was a gold digger, I am just done with both of them. They are toxic people.They wouldn’t know what a healthy relationship looked like if it slapped them in the face.

    Circling back to today’s therapy appointment, my therapist suggested that we discuss an early memory of unhealthy relationships. I told my therapist about the incident where the cops were calls on my dad. This led to some further discussions about relationships in my life and if I even know what a healthy relationship with another even means.

    I know my therapist is religious, but I wasn’t prepared for the hard left turn that came next. They implied that the reason why I identified as trans might be because of the dislike of my father. This left me speechless. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. We ended the session shortly after and it was suggested that I go home and do a lot of journaling after they said they “opened a can of worms.” The truth of the matter is, sure I dislike my father. But I also dislike my mom. I mean what kind of mother threatens to throw their sister’s boyfriend off a roof? They -both- have issues

    Deep down, I’ve always known I was different – before I was aware of a word for it. From not understanding I didn’t belong with the other little girls at a wedding when I was three years old, to sneaking into my mom and sister’s closet to try on clothes, to the fantasy writings of magically stepping from a stereotypically male body into a stereotypically female body. The very first time I was on the internet alone, I added a new word to my lexicon: transexual. Even the first time I had an orgasm was telling – I was trying to tuck to appear more feminine. Something unbeknownst to me at the time happened, and I stopped. It wasn’t until later I had learned what had actually happened.

    In this regard, I know exactly who I am.

    The only “can of worms” my therapist opened is me now questioning if I need to find a new therapist.

    #FeedTheGoodWolf