TRIGGER WARNING: ABUSE
I read this post on Tumblr, and it spoke to my lived experience in a loud and familiar voice. I posted it in comments on my Facebook yesterday, but I think it’s worth promoting to Main for other survivors who may take some comfort from it the way I did.
“Living in long term abusive situation, the abusers will often require you to ‘act normal’, as if everything is fine and good, even if you don’t feel okay. They present it to you as necessary, polite, ‘don’t be rude to xyz’ or will straight-up belittle and humiliate you until acting ‘normal’ will be the only safe option for you. It creates the illusion that everyone is secretly falling apart inside and suffering silently only to be polite.
“Acting normal in every situation can become a compulsion, something you do automatically to protect yourself against possible or imagined backlash; you live as if you’re unphased by anything, because showing pain feels like showing weakness, and being hurt while you’re weak is worse. You additionally might feel that your feelings are too much, nobody would want to deal with them, you’re oversensitive, overdramatic, over-emotional disaster of a human and you keep it all in to save yourself rejection and embarassment.”
I said:
“My father did all the abusing, and my mother did all the gaslighting, so I would act okay around not just him, but everyone.
“To the day I ended contact with them, after trying so fucking hard to heal with them, he denied ever doing anything to hurt me, and she gaslighted me about it.
“I was so good at acting okay, most of my biological family doesn’t believe me about his cruelty and abuse.”
I was telling Anne yesterday afternoon that my childhood was defined by a father who clearly didn’t love me, didn’t even like me, and a mother who somehow convinced herself that he wasn’t hurting me. Like, after raising two kids together, I had this realization one day that nothing happened in our house that we both didn’t know about. If one of the kids was upset about something, we both knew about it and we talked about it, together, so we could be the best parents we could be.
There’s no way my mother didn’t know that the man who was my father was cruel to me. There’s no way she didn’t know he was so mean to me. He humiliated me, he teased me, he picked on me. He put me down, he mocked me, he minimized everything I cared about. He did it in front of the whole family, endlessly. There’s no way she didn’t know he clearly and obviously and demonstrably loved my brother and sister in a way he did not love me. I mean, look at pictures of me. Pictures where I was putting on my best face for the whole world! The sadness and pain in my eyes is painfully obvious. Some of you are mothers. I know that every single one of you would recognize that pain and sadness if you saw it in your children. I know that every single one of you would do everything in your power to help your child.
There’s no way she didn’t know, unless she deliberately chose to ignore everything I was going through, for whatever reason. Honestly, that’s worse, I think.
I’ve talked to my sister about it, and it’s like she grew up in a different family than I did. She says she never felt unloved, or like she had to be good enough for their affection and approval. She felt like she was enough, just because she existed. She never felt like our parents didn’t love her or accept her exactly as she was. Watching my parents worship our brother, it was obvious that he was more than enough for them.
But I was a thing. When I was seven, Mom made me a thing that she could use to chase fame and fortune in Hollywood, and that man who should have been a father to me … I guess he resented that thing.
He wasn’t physically abusive toward me until I was a teenager. I mean, they both spanked me and my siblings all the time in the 70s and early 80s. I understand now that we consider that physical abuse, but in the 70s I understand that corporal punishment was more common than it is now? I don’t know. I think using the threat of physical violence and pain to make your kids behave a certain way is monstrous, but I also know it was a different time and … well, my parents were kind of monstrous. I just didn’t have anything to compare my experience to at the time.
I wonder if she convinced herself that, because he wasn’t hitting me or leaving marks on me, that he wasn’t abusive. And I wonder if, having made that choice, the emotional abuse and endless cruelty was that much easier to ignore.
I’ll never know, because all the times I tried to talk to her about it, she just gaslighted me. As far as I know, with the exception of my sister, my birth family sincerely believes I am the villain in their story. And that really, really hurts.
As I said in my post on Tumblr, I got so good at pretending everything was okay, just so I could survive, I fooled everyone in our family, in our neighborhood, and at work. To this day, people I trusted don’t believe me, because I was such a good actor.
It hurts so much to know that people I love don’t believe me, or believe that I’m anything other than a survivor. It hurts, and the lingering vestiges of those childhood survival skills occasionally assert themselves, making an argument to me that I should just reject everything I know to be true, and accept their version of reality, just so I can have the family my brother and sister have.
If I’m being honest, the thing that hurts the most is knowing that my parents had unconditional love to give, because I saw them give it freely to my siblings. The man who was my father made a choice to treat me like shit, and my mother made a choice to ignore or justify it.
My sister told me she has these memories of going on family vacations without me, and that she always missed me being there. I remembered them taking a few trips when I was in my late teens, and how I didn’t want to go with them, because the way our parents and our brother made me feel was just so awful.
I am having a little bit of a flashback right now to one of the many times my brother and father gleefully ganged up on me, teasing me, humiliating me, mocking me. Just relentlessly bullying me. And when I punched back, it was always, “WOAH why are you so sensitive? Learn to take a joke!” and etc.
This has gotten much longer than I intended, and a big part of me feels like I should just delete it all. That part of me is always scared and vulnerable and anxious about everything. But when I posted this yesterday, the ensuing comments helped me feel so NOT ALONE in knowing that all of these things I endured, all the gaslighting and all the pain and trauma were REAL because those things didn’t happen just to me. It hurts to know other people experienced these things, but it also helps me know that I’m not alone, I didn’t make it all up, and none of it was my fault. I hope it helps them, too.
If you see yourself in any of my experiences, I want you to know that I see you, right back. I believe you. We didn’t deserve any of it, and I am so sorry.
There was some of this in my family to a lesser degree, and some pedophiles there too. It’s so sad that children are treated so badly!!! I am so happy for your ST:TNG family, fans, and all of us who love and admire you! Put that love in your hand and fold it up to keep you safe and strong!
I grew up watching you as an actor. There was always something in your eyes that seemed so familiar. Knowing your story and being a mother I know what I was seeing was the same thing I saw in my own. The mental abuse our families can put us through is sometimes so much worse than any physical abuse they could ever do. My prayer for is you continue to Heal!
Well said, Raven! We must all stand together and help in the healing!
I hear you, and I believe you.
(My childhood was messed up in different ways. Not gonna try to compare, because oppression olympics helps no one.)
Thanks so much, Wil. Your experiences are very valid. I’m quite a bit older than you and didn’t understand what my parents and my first husband did to me in terms of abuse and gaslighting until I married my second husband, who treated me with respect and love. I though I was always wrong, that I was stupid, that I couldn’t exist alone, that I was a loser, and that my experience meant nothing. I even worked for a man who did the same thing, because I didn’t understand it’s not normal (or it shouldn’t be). The day I found myself cowering in the corner of our OFFICE, with him standing over me, screaming at me, I realized that was it. I was done being a doormat. From that day on, I fought for what I wanted and needed, and I won. Even though my husband and I were only married seven years before he died, it was glorious (much like your marriage to Ann) and has helped me withstand the last 17 years on my own (my husband was 47 when he died; I was 46). Thanks, again, Wil. You inspire me and always have.
I am so sorry – you deserved so so so much better than you got. Your ability to talk about your experience helped me validate my own and to feel safe telling my story to get the help I needed to explore my feelings, process what happened and begin to more publicly talk about it in ways that let others know they are not alone, that they are seen and valued and important. There is still so much love and enjoyment of life out there for all of us, by reaching out and supporting each other we are taking those steps towards those things.
I hear the pain – my sisters had a different childhood than I did, and not having anyone who understands what I went through is hard. I’m glad you made a loving family.
I had an alcoholic, drug abusing, neglectful narcissist for a parent who went to her deathbed refusing to admit that her behavior had ever harmed me. There are a lot really bad parents in the world, most people just prefer not to think about it too much or get involved, so they downplay or dismiss it as you overreacting or being dramatic and feeling sorry for yourself.
I broke contact with my parent 10 years before she died and didn’t attend her funeral or see he when she was dying. I chose my mental health and wellbeing instead. The alternative was to continue to allow her to poison my self esteem and blame me for her problems. I do not regret my choice.
I believe you, because it happened to me too.
This was my childhood too. When we’d go anywhere the threat of maybe not physical violence but definitely “a talking to” was implied. My parents divorced when I was in 3rd grade by the threats continued with my father. I haven’t had regular contact with him in 23 years and my kids don’t know him and it’s better that way. Love to you Wil!
I see you, Wil. And, I believe you. ❤️
I wonder how many of us moms who follow your story cry when we read these things, and wish so SO much we could have been there for you to help. Any sane person would be so proud of you, and would feel so much joy in how you’ve turned out – I’m not your mom, but seeing how you have grown and faced your pain and grown some more over the years, and your honesty and bravery in sharing it make me feel so much admiration for you. I’m so glad you found your Star Trek family and your IRL lifelong love, and your sons. You deserve all the best. I know I’m only one among many who feel this way, you are not alone. Thank you for all you have done. You are a real hero.
<3
I am so very happy for you, Wil, that you eventually realized how this trauma affected you as an adult and sought help and cut them out of your life. I am so glad you have Anne and that she is who she is. I am so glad you’re able to use your platform when you’re up to it to share your experience, which absolutely DOES help others. I am so glad you’ve made a fantastic life for yourself despite your past. You are loved, by those who know you for real, and those who don’t but wish they did. <3
Sorry that your life was and has been so difficult with your family, father, mother, brother… Thank you for your candor and for sharing your story. A fascinating take on acting. Amazing that you chose to be an actor for your job with the negativity that forced you to act as if everything was ok. You don’t know me and this question is probably to personal and yet I will ask this question “who ended up becoming your real mother, father, and brother?” I hope someone found their way into your life. Blessings on this journey of being human.
an Admirer, love the work you do with John Scalzi’s books,
Da Rev Jeffrey Otterman
I never chose to be an actor. I never wanted to be an actor. My mother forced me to become an actor, and then convinced me it was my idea. When I was seven.
So sorry for that reality that you were forced. You are causing healing in this post. I hear it in the people responding. Thank you for words and your insights.
I wonder if you were so good as a professional actor because you had to be an actor at home to survive… What a horrible, horrible thing. I am SO glad you found your way out of the situation and cut off contact with your abusers. That you share your past with others, to help those who might have had (or currently have) similarly awful childhoods, is a testament to your resilience and compassion. Hang in, keep healing, know that you are heard and believed and loved, and enjoy your chosen ST:TNG family and the family you made by marrying Anne.
I am so sorry to know that the talent you possess for acting came out of such abuse. Having been raised by a narcissist, I have empathy as well as sympathy for what you endured. Ironically, I wanted to be an actor as a kid, but my mother would never have gone out of her way to support my ambitions or help me create the career I wanted.
I am glad you have cut your parents out of your life to find the healing, love, and self-respect you so abundantly deserve. As a mother, I made a commitment to listening to my children, and to letting them find their own paths to happiness. They are, I think, happier than I was—and they can tell me the truth without being judged, screamed at, or belittled. We can break the chain of abuse.
\
Wil, I was reading at college level before high school. I turned to books to try and block out the horror and living in fear all of the time. Too bad I didn’t take that love of literature and turn it into a college degree of some kind. But the creature who was my father told me he would not spend any money to help me go to college. At that time, 17, I was pretty naive about college aid, scholarships, and frightened to explore it on my own.
One of the authors I so identify with is Jane Austen, and particularly the abject cruelty in Jane Eyre, in which Jane’s uncle exhorted his wife to raise Jane as her own if he died. Of course she didn’t and withheld all love from the child and visiting horrors on her. Jane has words for her aunt as a child, before she is sent away to an awful institution, words similar to which I wish I had hurled at the creature but I probably would have been murdered:
“I am glad you are no relation of mine: I will never call you aunt again as long as I live. I will never come to see you when I am grown up; and if any one asks me how I liked you, and how you treated me, I will say the very thought of you makes me sick, and that you treated me with miserable cruelty — because it is the TRUTH. You think I have no feelings, and that I can do without one bit of love or kindness; but I cannot live so: and you have no pity. I shall remember how you thrust me back
— roughly and violently thrust me back — into the red-room, and locked me up there, to my dying day; though I was in agony; though I cried out, while suffocating with distress, “Have mercy! Have mercy, Aunt Reed!” And that punishment you made me suffer because your wicked boy struck me — knocked me down for nothing. I will tell anybody who asks me questions, this exact tale. People think you a good woman, but you are bad, hard-hearted. You are deceitful! You told Mr. Brocklehurst I had a bad
character, a deceitful disposition; and I’ll let everybody at Lowood know what you are, and what you have done. Send me to school soon, Mrs. Reed, for I hate to live here.”
And even later in the novel, when the old witch is dying, Jane goes when she is requested, only to find her aunt has abused her again by not telling her of another uncle who wanted to adopt her 3 years previously, sent in a letter, and who had since died. And the aunt continues to abuse her about her character as a child all over again and how much she hated Jane. Jane STILL offers her “full and free forgiveness”. But it’s too late.
I guess the moral is, you can try to heal a situation but you can’t if the other parties involved don’t want to. You can have the moral fortitude and forgiving nature of a 19-year-old Jane Eyre and still not succeed. Those three family members of yours are Mrs. Reed and they will stick to their script until they die, because they are also gaslighting themselves into believing they are good people.
Nuts – not sure how I accomplished that stupendous screw up with Jane Austen (age, weariness) and I can’t edit the original comment. Apologies. Charlotte Bronte, of course, of the writing Bronte sisters, wrote Jane Eyre.
I saw that and thought, well, she mixed up her authors but what an excellent point she made. Jane Eyre is my favorite book.
So, I am bawling.
Thank you for that last paragraph.
I needed to hear that from someone who’s been there and from someone I respect.
Hey Will, thank you so much for sharing this. It has helped me understand part of my family dynamic and reach out to be more supportive of one of my nieces who’s father is a narcissist. I just want you to know that your writing has been a force for good in our lives.
Hi Wil
I’m old enough to be your Dad and I understand from a different perspective. Life with an alcoholic and tranquilizer addicted parent is its own brand of torture. Denial is rampant and of course, no one listens to the victim…
All kids of alcoholics become great actors just to survive. It’s a common strategy of most abused kids. Kids are powerless against a parent’s betrayal. We become actors; we bury and deny our emotions; we surf other’s emotions and learn how to survive when we fall off into the surging emotions.
So yeah, I get it. There are so many of us who do. You’re doing good by all accounts. Be proud of yourself and what you’ve built in your life. You’ve earned it.
Love long and prosper. 🖖
I know that feeling of being left out in your family. I was with my brother this year on his birthday. My mom called him and texted him. On my birthday 60 days later, nothing. In fact, I got exactly three birthday phone calls that day and they were all from your discord group. I was always given a hard time about homework and grades and when my sister would get identical grades she would get praised and I’d get punished. “School is harder for her”. There was always an excuse for her and I was ignored. I am ignored to this day.
I don’t talk to her. I don’t even know where she lives. Most everyone I know has no idea I even have a sister.
I started therapy on Monday to sort out feelings… covid/parenting/ being parented. Lots of stuff you post really make me think and realize some of the things my parents did were fucked up.
I see you. I believe you. I understand how it hurts to have a mom and dad who are not ever going to be the parents you need.
Fuck that’s awful. I am so sorry. I hope your therapy is healing and helpful.
I wish I could take away your pain.
So for me it was my mom who was doing the mix of verbal abuse and neglect, some physical abuse, and so much of her verbal abuse was taken out on my brother. Years and years of nightly fights between them because he wouldn’t just do what she told him. He had ADHD (as did I) so of course he couldn’t be the model child that she wanted, and of course he bullying and shaming tactics made everything worse for everyone.
She was using the whole slew of tactics and parenting skills she learned growing up, only doing what she knew how to. You’d think that she would recognize that there was a fundamental flaw in her beliefs about parenting, but because of her own shitty childhood, she’s terrified of making mistakes, being wrong—and being held accountable.
And my Dad was just largely absent. He’s the one we inherited the ADHD from and his childhood taught him to run away from conflict.
The worst part of me is that when I tried to confront them about this shit, I did it as a hurt and deeply wounded 20-something year old and triggered the ever loving shit out of both of them. I don’t know that I could have ever gotten through to them, ever had them accept responsibility for their devastating mistakes and abuse, but lord knows that I wish I didn’t feed into the cycle so much that the only way to get out was to leave them all behind.
I made the right choice, I know that, but it still hurts and I miss the good that there was. My parents, despite their painful flaws, did love me and my brother. They just really didn’t know how to love, even how to love themselves.
Wil you are so much more than your wounds. You are so strong. It is I amazing how much you have overcome. Your parents are broken vindictive people. Your resilience must be a slap in the face to them. They could not break you.
Yeah, Wil, I’ve had my own pain and still have people who don’t believe what I presently go through. You are doing a great job of bringing awareness to mental illness. Thank you.
As someone who falls between the cracks of psychiatry, thank you even more. You would not believe how many doctors don’t believe schizophrenia is a spectrum and not just one of five distinct disorders.
That and ObamaCare in NJ doesn’t cover psychiatrists or psychologists.
“…you live as if you’re unphased by anything, because showing pain feels like showing weakness, and being hurt while you’re weak is worse.”
To know this, one must experience abuse. I don’t think there is any other way to find those kind of words. I have no doubt you are a survivor, Wil.
Same-ish. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you for sharing the abuse and trauma you suffered growing up. I still have A lot of issues discussing the things that I went through as a child. You make u.me feel like I am not alone and that there are people who understand.
Thank you for writing this. It’s like you’re describing my youth and it really helps to know that it wasn’t just happening to me. Even to this day, no one believes me because they always say “your family just seems so perfect”. I’ve always felt so alone before finding your writing a couple years ago – you really capture what we went through and it’s reassuring to interact with the community that has grown around you and has common experiences like mine and yours.
How amazing you are as a husband and father speaks volumes to all you have grown and overcome. Thank you and your family for being a shining light showing that we as humans can come together to break the cycle and be better. (That sounded better in my head; but seriously, thank you.)
I see you, I feel you and I was just like you growing up. I had physical abuse from a very young age. Done by my step mom. And my father and her both emotionally, mentally and psychologically abused me. I was rarely hugged, told I was loved. I was a servant from the time I was around 7. I did all the chores around the house. Like you, I look back on pictures and see the pain in my eyes. I finally had to run away at 16 because I was still being spanked, with my pants pulled down. I was having nightmares of killing them both and knew I needed to get away. The trauma from that continued with me choosing abusive relationships. And now I get to continue suffering with PTSD, depression and I just found out I have degeneration in my spine and bone spurs in my neck. The doctor says it looked like I suffered trauma. Yes, yes I did. Thank you for sharing your story. I feel a little less alone in the world.
I only recently realized that my parents have been and still are emotionally abusing me since I was 12-13. Any time I tried to assert my independence they would dash any sense of self worth and confidence I had mustered to try. I’m currently in the process of trying to stand up for equal treatment of my children by then but I’m honestly feeling ill about them even seeing my kids now that I realize it was actually a form of abuse and gaslighting. I knew I was desperately unhappy growing up and always had my “I’m fine” face at the ready what teen around other family. I also became painfully aware of how I have to be a totally different person around them just to tolerate it and keep them at bay. I really need to figure out how to cut ties because I can’t go on like this.
Seeing your posts gives me hope that I will find the strength to get the toxic people out of my life.
Ugh. I’m in this post and I don’t like it. My current downward spiral is cause my sister is still social with our parents. She lets her kids hang out with our parents. And she’s said she believes me and she’s said she was abused too. But I just don’t see it. She can’t have gone through what I went through and still let her kids be unattended with them. I think maybe when she was abused too, she just means spankings and not the other stuff. And I wonder, I have to wonder because my sister and brother both hang out with the parents, if they just decided to break one kid to keep the other two intact. Thanks for making me feel less alone…
We didn’t deserve any of it, Wil. None of us.
This sounds so much like my childhood. My parents were big believers in corporal punishment too, and my dad was an emotionally abusive alcohol. My sister joined in and I was always called “too sensitive” for getting upset. I have a somewhat strained relationship with my parents now and I have completely cut off contact with my sister. (Her abuse continued well into adulthood.) My heart hurts for you and anyone who has gone through this. But I am glad you share these memories and insights with us. I feel less alone.
I feel your hurt, Wil.
It was the same with my mother’s cousins. They were two daughters and one boy. The daughters were doted upon by their father. The son – not so much.
I can guess at the reasons and I can sort of understand my uncle. But the fact remains that he was the adult and that he treated his son so very wrong. I don’t know how my aunt reacted to all of this – I was just a kid. But I know dir sure that everybody knew. The rest of the family tried to help, His sisters tried to protect him but there was only so much they could do.
My uncle died years ago and I have no idea wether he and his son ever spoke as you have tried to. If I rememeber my uncle’s funeral correctly his daughters spoke at the ceremony. His son I don’t recall being there.
I’m sitting here tearing up because I’m reading this and hearing my own voice as much as yours. I had that 70s/80s punishment too, some of it severe, apparently I always “deserved it” when I got it, even though I know plenty were from my siblings’ deeds. If I questioned it, it was “you’re older, you should be looking after them/setting an example.” It wasn’t constant, like yours though, it’d lull at times, or switch to another sibling. But the combo was the same, one physical, one gaslight.
Being one of five kids, there was plenty that went on without their knowing. Plenty of time to hide away, break down at times, to question my own sanity, so effective it was. I’m only a handful of years your junior but I still feel that sting of their actions too. I’m still trying to work through the constant feeling of not being good enough, of feeling guilty at things I’m not responsible for. Maybe one day I’ll crack it.
I forgave them over time. Getting out of home changed the dynamic, changed them too. The effort it took to do what they did was exhausting on them, I think. There’s still a bit of gaslight but it’s more in denial. I just avoid the past when we speak.
They’re better as grandparents, I see it with my nieces and nephews, but they’re still young too. I hope things don’t revert as they get older… fates help them if they do as I love those little ones dearly, especially the eldest of them. Not seeing her as much over lockdowns, 250+ days of them now, that’s been hardest of all.
She plays some boardgames over FaceTime with me now and then, but she prefers face to face, as do I…
It’s all just too much lately, everything is…
Thank fates for the dogs, they keep me going.
Apologies for the ramble.
And reading through all the other comments here, it’s a stark reminder that we’re not alone, our shared experiences show it. Some are so familiar, some are scarily worse than I endured. For any here that read this, I see you, I’ll listen if you need an ear. Sending hugs to you all.
Here’s something I think needs said — belief need not come from shared experience. I believe what you say, Wil, even though I never experienced anything like that. And I don’t believe because you’re famous, or because I’m a big Trek nerd (and I REALLY am, lol), I believe because you speak from your heart and make the truth of what you say very plain. And I also want to thank you for making those of us who haven’t gone through such experiences more aware of what the effect looks like, because if just one child is helped out of a bad situation by the awareness you have provided to people like me, then you’ve saved a life. I know that’s not why you’re posting about your past, but it’s true.
Wow, did this ever trigger memories! I grew up in the same environment, dealt with the same stuff. Thank you for sharing this.
You turn your face to the window of the car. You’re just looking at the scenery, right? No one will see the tears that way. Massive hugs, Wil. You’re not alone.
Hugs, Wil! I too grew up in an emotionally abusive environment where I was trained to present a normal face to the world. To this day no one in my family knows. I gave up on having relationships in my family because anytime I started to have an independent friendship with any family member, my mother sabotaged it. I take care of my 85yo abuser now although she can’t hurt me as much as before, or at least not as often. I have made my own found family and I am perfectly happy with that. At least I did not have any siblings, I suspect it would have turned out like your family.
great post Wil! corporal punishment has effects on a child’s development, it is astounding these days that this was broadly seen as a good parenting method. Even today, there is this idea that males need to “toughen up” and be able to take abuse and not break. Usually all it does is normalize abuse and emotional suppression among boys and causes many to become abusers themselves to their wives, kids, and others. The sad thing is that they believe this is the “right” way to make a “man” out of people they identify as “weak”. But it seems instead of becoming someone like your father you took the experiences and turned them around. I bet you are a great parent because you saw what not to be like as a father.
Wil, I just want to say that I DO see myself in your experiences and I believe us. We didn’t deserve any of it, and I am so sorry for us.
I’m the youngest of four daughters. The mother is now old and experiencing dementia. Because of the California fires, she had to be evacuated from her home in Auburn and she can’t live alone anymore. She has no money because she has spent her whole life banking on letting her children support her when she got old. Well, now we are there. Sister number one is like your sister. She was the golden child, loved and adored and never experienced any abuse. Sister number two has completely checked out of the family, moved far away, and none of us keep in touch with her because she has burned her bridges. Sister number three suffered a lot of the same abuse I did when we were kids, but she is somehow managing to overcome her trauma, allowing the mother to live with her and assuming the primary caregiver role. I believe a lot of this is due to her basic belief that our elders should be cared for. I believe the same thing, but first and foremost I believe that our children should be cared for and I spent my entire childhood being hit, drugged, belittled, ignored, and told to shut up and leave the mother alone. Thankfully, sister number three understands me and gives me all the room I need to take care of myself (thank you, sis) but sister number one seems to have a hard time understanding how I cannot and will not “get past all of that” and “step up.” Again, thankfully, I have gotten really good at keeping my boundaries now that I’m in my 60s. I am fully willing to help my sisters with what they need but I will not put myself in front of an oncoming train for anyone. Wouldn’t it be great if we had the brains we have now and the strong bodies we had then? So, you see, I do see you and I am one of the many out here who walk alongside you on this path of healing after parental neglect and abuse.
Hi Wil,
This one finally forced me to sign up for WordPress so I could comment in response. Your series of articles on this topic over the past few years have played a substantial role in my own journey to understand and deal with my demons. And the knowing that I am not the only one who is outwardly middle-aged but inwardly a small wounded boy who doesn’t understand why all the adults had to suck so much. In this particular entry… being a thing, a means to an end for a narcissistic mom, a middle finger of 1970s shame to her own mom, a spoil of the war between her and my dad who abandoned me anyway, a servant and nanny who couldn’t live a normal life so she could do what she wanted. Thank you for seeing me. I see you as well. The endless bullying, brutality from my pathetic non-entity of a step-dad, the gaslighting while it was happening and resistance just made you, sensitive, pussy, spoiled, baby, you fuckin girl, just teasing, and then rewriting history like none of it ever happened. It’s all there, and I thank you again, for seeing me. I see you. I see all of you.
Thank you so much for sharing your stories. I’m a survivor of sexual, physical, and emotional abuse. For years I felt pressured to maintain contact with my abuser because he’s my father. Reading your stories and how you have done better since you cut contact is one of the reasons I was able to do the same. My father has been in prison since I was 18, but some of his sisters insisted I keep contact even going so far to push me into visiting him in prison. They even drove me there so I didn’t feel I could back out. I’ve now limited my contact with them as well. One of them will comment if I try to leave a comment on your Facebook posts so I’m so glad you have the blog so I can thank you. If you read this know that you’re definitely not alone it’s like we’re in a club that no one really wants to join, but we can all support each other.
I am so sorry your aunts retraumatized you like that. What a terrible thing to do. I see you, and I support t.
Wow that entry hit my like a freight train.
You and I are birthday brothers… 10years apart mind (I’m from 82) so we shared that. We also share the experience of having a traumatic childhood. However until I read this blog post I’d never realised how shared our experience was. While my abuse was a different kind of abuse to yours (a mixture of physical and psychology) it’s in our families reactions that we have the same experience. I have a twin and to do this day he and I have entirely different memories of our childhood. To the point that I’ve spent most the last decade convinced I’d made most of it up.
It’s a horror that I don’t think I’ll ever fully assimilate or recover from.
Thank you for sharing so much of yourself and your stories.. You are a light in the dark for kids who grew up like us.
I say this on no way trying to minimize your pain or the abuse you endured. I recently ended a long abusive marriage where I gaslighted my children through my own denial. My ex is still convinced he’s a great guy and believing his words rather than his actions (he was just stressed/drunk/tired — it wasn’t the “real” him) had me excusing behavior that was not ok. I have since apologized to my kids, but it doesn’t change the harm I caused. Denial is a powerful thing!
Me too Wil. I was told I’m morngy and mardy for not enjoying being picked on. I’m told I have nothing to complain about because other people suffer ‘real’ abuse. I still see them all the time but it’s incredibly hard and I’m still in and out of therapy. Father’s Day sucks balls for me too.
Hi Wil, I’m so glad you had the courage to share that, because, for a moment, it feels as if I articulated those words that I could never seem to express, but wished I could. And, to see them written down, sums up exactly what I know to be true, from the experience that I too went through.
I see you and I believe you. While I didn’t grow up in a horrible environment, I did have an 11 year relationship with a narcissist who verbally, emotionally and eventually physically abused me. I was lucky enough to get myself (and my daughter) out and have since met a wonderful man who treats me and my daughter so well. Thank you for sharing your experiences; it helps bring light to abuse and the survivors. And that’s exactly what you are…a survivor!
Hello Wil. I had liked a page on facebook called “what happens on the holodeck, stays on the holodeck” and it led me to a post you made on this blog. I knew they ran you off twitter but I didnt realize Facebook bullied you too. I am glad I saw this post about White christian fragility which led to your blog of best acting was offset. Its funny how people think you have this fabulous life because you smile all the time and seem “so normal” but never really knows what lies beneath and many times when they do see what lies beneath their vision of what you are “suppose to be to them” is shattered. I do not have my story yet on this blog but it is a very dark one of a psychotic raging alcoholic who in her delusions would tell you the red cup was blue and if you didnt admit the red cup was blue she beat your head against the wall. My family too all pretended like it didnt happen. I acted out and hit my sisters because my mother was beating me and I was easily scapegoated as the family problem when I tried to come out and tell of the abuse. For a long time I had no one not even god as the American christians told me that if you prayed to God hard enough he would come and save you. Oh how I prayed and prayed for God to save me from my mommy dearest but he never came. When realized it was a lie and no one was coming I too was extremely upset with christians. I was upset with them for a very long time. You know that we know and believe you what you say is real. I will never get validation from my mother who now has dementia. I will never see justice but the one thing I do know is that others do see what is real. I see it and everyone here sees it and if just one person on this earth sees then no matter how many lies your mother makes it wont ever hide the truth again.
Hi Wil,
Isn’t it amazing how many people connect with your experience and feelings?!? Most who comment are your age or older. I wonder how many people will still be experiencing these sorts of parents thirty years from now? I wonder if we’ve learned anything over the past 50-60 years?
I was raised like you, the abuser and the gas-lighter, only being much older, they thought it was the normal way to bring up children; and god forbid we should be anything but perfection when other people were around.
Isn’t it just Murphy’s Law that the gas-lighter died first and now I am left to take care of the abuser. I only do it because he is frail, demented and I wouldn’t see any helpless creature in need that I wouldn’t stop to help. He is only nicer to me now because he needs me, but I’m not buying it.
I honestly can’t wait ’til it’s all over and I can put them both in my rear view mirror.
It’d be just like the bastard to live to be 100 though…I just know it!
You are lucky Wil, in how your life turned out and you don’t have to see them anymore. So many of us are already old and still going through it.
Embrace your good fortune and only look ahead. Fuck those assholes and BROOM ‘EM !!
Wil – First! I just want to let you know that you were not alone with your father and the things he would do to you to make you feel as a child that was not loved and abused. My father did the same thing to me and always made me feel like, I did not matter. My mother ended up leaving him and it was truly hard for me as a kid growing up with a dad that not only left our home but also did not show me the love that a kid at my age truly needed from his father. I can’t imagine being your age and doing the things that you got to do on the movies and then on Star Trek. But still having a father that did not care and still abused you. Just know your not alone and if you ever just want to talk and get things off your chest? I am here to be a sounding board or a friend.
Much Love,
Anthony L Chavez
Email: [email protected]
http://www.twitter.com/startrekfanpage
Dear Wil! You unpacked a lot there. And it immediately made me think of my own relationship with my “parents.” I was adopted. I was abused by my mother. Until a few years before his death 5 years ago, I gave my father a “pass” – thinking that he really didn’t know about anything. Until I arrived at the house before the annual Christmas day family gathering and discovered copies of pornographic comics laid out… I remembered seeing them as a child, and thought that they belonged to my mother. I was able to grab them and destroy them before anyone arrived – he said something about having them for the nieces and nephews… It’s something that I have kept to myself for a number of years now.
It’s difficult to walk away from those you know as “family.” My extended family – cousins, aunts, uncles, etc. have all treated me as if I were blood-related. Many of the older cousins know of the abuse. I treasured my high school years because I was out of the house so much. I actually thought that their divorce during my freshman year in high school would make things better… I was, unfortunately, wrong. The idea that “whatever happens in the house stays in the house” was a mantra taught from an early age. I would be punished for sharing with neighborhood friends that we had pizza for dinner.
When I was in the 8th grade, at a parochial school, a couple of friends cornered me and began asking questions about my mother. They knew something was wrong, but I denied everything. I only discovered after my father’s death that one of the Sisters and lay teachers had, at the same time, cornered my mother, telling her what they thought they knew and letting her know that they were watching. For about a year, until high school at least, I was in a much better place. There are those who do care, who keep their eyes open and for them, I will be eternally grateful.
After reading your essay last night, I had one of the worst nightmares of my life – reliving some of the moments that I thought were long exorcised. Know that you are not alone; you are in my prayers.