It took me 37 years to finally stand up to my abusive mother. When I did it, I did it without any support while literally surrounded by my entire extended family. We were at a bowling alley on New Year’s Eve night. She viciously tore into me while we stood adjacent to our rented lanes, filled to overflowing with people. My family members kept happily bowling while we fought. No one intervened. Few of them even looked in our direction. It was my breaking point. The straw that broke the camel’s back, if you’d like. A “small” thing that pushed me firmly over a line.
From that point forward, I had two conditions before I would interact with her again: she would need to show me a measure of basic respect, and display remorse for her actions. That’s all. And friends, that was December 31, 2015. She never tried to give me what I asked for.
Not only are we estranged, but she took all of my relatives with her when she went. My own long voyage towards simply saying NO to her had left me shaken to the core. What made it even harder was no one went out of their way to make sure I was okay. No one reached out, except those who sought to lure me back in and accept that’s “just how she is”. I received a single, kind Facebook message from a cousin who I never heard from again afterward.
That was my biggest lesson in how hard it is to skirt the line between strength and vulnerability. It is HARD to manage both at the same time. Human instinct tells us to shield our wounds and repel any attempts made by others to get close. We build walls. Shun those we disagree with. Sever ties. And ignore the fact that part of our soul will always love those we’ve hastily sliced from our life. The open-hearted are frequently targeted by abusers. They have such a hard time resisting the urge to go back – choosing love over strength. While on the other side of things they are choosing strength over love.
It is a rare thing to find the slender, winding path between self-confidence and compassion.
Another Lesson – The In-Laws
My first reaction to meeting my husband’s extended family was, “wow, they’re so normal!” They weren’t like my relatives, who are all about appearances and performing perfection. His family was relatable. Easy to talk to. Funny. Interesting. And there were so, so many of them!
Fast forward a few years. My mother and father in law have severed contact with nearly all of their living family. It happened because of greed following the deaths of the elders. And because of others getting lured by the anti-vaxx, anti-mask, republican cult mindset. The main disagreements were all between family in their generation. But close relationships between cousins have broken now too.
I see this happening to them. I’ve been there. But I have the benefit of perspective. And I miss my relatives so much. All of them. I tell my husband there’s a path where he can draw a boundary but still love them. But he and his family feel “that’s just how they are”. They are done. It makes me sad.
Reaching Out – Social Media Version
Last night, I started a new account on a social media platform I’ve never used before. I reached out to all of the in-laws on there that I’ve always enjoyed spending time with. People I’ve never argued with, but who are on the “other side of the line” in the family feuds. When a few of them flat-out rejected my attempt, I have to be honest – it stung. Instantly, I felt regret, shame, and questioned whether I’d done something wrong.
But I made myself sit with those feelings, and keep my heart open as I listened for guidance from within. It requires patience, and a lot of tolerance for discomfort. Bravery. Humility. A willingness to be dead wrong.
And a miracle happened. I got an answer! I looked into my heart and where the hurt had been was now the gift of insight waiting. It was like a message in a bottle, sent to me from the other side. This is where all of our guidance comes from.
It told me maintaining an open heart IS strength. Being vulnerable IS brave. Boundaries are a loving act. We all deserve to decide others need to respect us more than they have in the past. It’s not wrong to stand up for ourselves. But to do that AND extend a hand across the line is what takes real guts. It’s what we need so much more of in this world. We need to be able to reach out to those we disagree with. We need to hate the actions, not the people. To find ways to have differing opinions, but still love each other.
If the tables were turned, I would want someone to reach out. And I did! I was there, hoping someone would find the inner strength to do that, and risk the rejection.
We can’t stop reaching out to people just because our hand might get smacked away.
The Challenge – The Shift
When I received that message, it transformed everything for me. My hurt lifted, leaving warm tranquility and determination to trust myself.
You don’t need me to tell you this world is filled to brimming with differing opinions. People are drawing lines between themselves all over the place, for many reasons. It’s separating us. A chasm is forming inbetween. Some of us HAVE TO find a way to keep reaching across the gulf. The only way we ride out the shift to a better, kinder world is by doing it together. The higher path requires setting ego aside and admitting when we’re wrong. It necessitates respect, remorse, and willingness to work hard to do better next time.
There’s a lot I wish I had done differently. There are ways I should have tried harder, spoken up, or acted when I did not. I do regret that. But I did the best I could. If any of my relatives reached out to me today, I would listen if they showed me respect and remorse in return. That’s all I require. My door, and my heart, is open. I wish them all happy, fulfilling lives, include them in my prayers every night, and send them my love.
We can do this. It doesn’t have to be either or – pride or shame. If you step past pride and are willing to dip a toe in the shame, you will discover there is a path. It winds between the two and leads onward toward a more expansive, kinder existence. I hope we all find the way.
Love and blessings, friends.