Escapism and Avoidance

    I haven't written about one aspect of the puzzle that is my mother yet, and that is narcissism.  I am planning on writing more in-depth at some point on how I came to that realization, but in the meantime wanted to share this article someone from a support group I belong to shared.  It really struck a chord with me and explains really well what I did to cope with my environment growing up.  It is taken from the Sanctuary For Wellness And Recovery page on Facebook:

    "One of the coping behaviors targets of Controllers often develop is “escapism” and avoidance.  This behavior is a survival mechanism, where the brain is trying to preserve the person’s Self and ability to be autonomous.  Autonomy is essential to a human’s survival, without it we can literally die, because we lose the ability to care for ourselves properly and make survival actions and decisions.

    "One of the core issues with Narcissism is trying to force targets to live through them, to see the world and themselves through the Narcissist’s eyes instead of their own eyes, to live life AROUND the Narcissist’s needs, wants, and emotions instead of their own.  A target of a Narcissist is told that they are “wrong,” “bad,” and “unwanted” when they initiate any action or express anything from THEMSELVES that is not under the umbrella of the Narcissists’ parameters.  Any emotional that isn’t “in line” with the Controller’s emotions or agenda is “wrong.”  Preferences that are different from the Controller are “wrong” (vanilla is better than chocolate, if you prefer chocolate or don’t like vanilla you’re “WRONG” or “WEIRD”).  Clothing, hairstyles, shoes, jewelry are WRONG if they don’t line up with the Controller’s preferences.

    "ANYTHING that a target does, feels, or thinks, or doesn’t do, feel , or think, is “WRONG” if it doesn’t line up with the Controller/Narcissist’s very narrow point of view.  Even the WAY the target does a task that the Controller commanded is “wrong” unless it’s exactly the same as what the Controller has in their head.

    "This projection of control is literally CONSTANT.  The Controller/Narcissist actually believes that ALL of his or her perceptions, opinions, preferences, and beliefs are The Correct Ones, and they feel completely entitled to project all of them onto their target at all times.

    Basically, in their mind, the Controller is the child playing with a set of action figures and dolls, making up everything they say, do, think and feel, and their targets are the dolls who don’t have minds or spirits of their own.  It doesn’t occur to the Controller that the targets are NOT dolls, and that they are just as REAL as he or she is, and that the Controller is NOT entitled to rule over them as if they are.

  

    "In response to this, targets often develop survival skills like escapism and avoidance, in order to preserve their core “self.”  They are giving themselves TIME and SPACE to BE REAL, to be autonomous.  Controllers of course confuse this with typical teenage “rebellion.”  It is related, but teenagers rebel in order to grow up and become autonomous adults; it’s a natural process that all children go through.  They are learning about their own perceptions and how to live in the adult world AS adults.  Rebellion as a SURVIVAL mechanism is different because it’s not part of the natural maturation process; it’s literally to preserve the person’s BEING and sanity.

    "Escapism and avoidance can easily become a habit, and cause problems for the target in making decisions in career and in relationships.  This is another one-two-punch; first the target develops this habit as a way to survive a Controller, and then the target must heal from the habit itself.  IT’s not fair at all, but it’s what happens commonly.  ON the positive side, the coping mechanism DOES help preserve the target’s “self;” without it, the target may have lost their autonomy and their sanity along with it.

    "Escapism and avoidance cause problems because they become the method of coping with discomfort, pain, anxiety, fear and anger.  So instead of balancing the checkbook, we go to the store and buy new jeans.  Instead of talking through an issue with our partner or friend, we turn away from them and go do something else.  Instead of staying at a job we don’t like until we find a better one, we quit.  Instead of saving money, we spend it trying to make ourselves feel better.  Instead of going to Motor Vehicles, we do the laundry.  We say we can’t go to counseling because we have to work.  We say we can’t afford to move so we don’t have to deal with the stress of moving, even though we know we need to move.  We say we can’t afford to quit our job so we don’t have to deal with change and the fear or failure.  We say we can’t afford college because we fear the costs of money an time, or because really we don’t want to deal with the social issues from other humans.

    "So we end up NOT doing things we want or need to do.

    "This is one of the things targets often need to heal from in order to “be themselves” again.  It’s easier with support, of course, but only with healthy supporters with healthy boundaries; otherwise the mechanism will kick in again.  It helps to work on healing our own boundaries first, so we can deal with other human beings and their control issues (most humans have at least a couple of them; when our boundaries are strong enough, we can at least stay in the same room and keep participating with non-Narc. People, even if they have some arrogance or dominance behaviors)."

    Wow, this was great for me to read.  I could relate to so much.

   My form of escapism growing up was reading.  I was a bookworm, always had my nose in a book.  This accomplished a few things--first, reading was considered an acceptable way to occupy my time and people wouldn't bother me as much if I was reading.  Second, I was often on my bed reading, in my room with the door closed--away from the craziness of the rest of the household and less likely to get yelled at (once chores, etc. were done, anyway).  Third, I usually had series of books I was into like Nancy Drew or something like that (yes, to some of you this is going to make me seem really old!  LOL) and I would sort of make myself one of the characters in my mind as I was reading and define myself that way.

    I think that in some ways this was a healthy way for me to deal with not being able to individuate in normal ways---through reading I learned about the world, including some things about interacting with other people through the descriptions I read, etc. (although practical experience through healthy interactions came later; I was one of those kids who was picked on in school all the time when I was little and felt awkward in jr. high and high school).  Better than drug use and other really destructive coping measures--but I found that after I "got out" and got married, etc. reading didn't do the same thing for me that it had in the past.  It took me awhile to figure out why it didn't hold the same "magic" and had a real a-ha moment when I realized it was because my "someday" had come and so I wasn't getting the therapeutic value from it that I had before, if that makes sense.  I think that left a huge hole in a lot of ways because I didn't know what to use to replace it.  As I'm writing this, it occurs to me that maybe the hole it left behind was pain that it had been covering up and I didn't know what to do with it.  No matter what I did I couldn't feel better.  I felt completely lost for a long time, and still struggle with knowing how to occupy my time on a day to day basis.  I often felt compulsions to leave the house each day--I couldn't just be "home."  I often found myself walking around stores, even if I wasn't purchasing anything.  One day when I was trying to figure out why I did that I realized that I felt "normal" when I was at the store.  Running errands is something normal people do, so I am always running errands.

    Anyway.  This gives a lot of food for thought.  I've been learning a lot about my maternal grandfather in the last little while and realize that he carried a lot of the same kind of emotional pain that I do.  He was an alcoholic and I think I'm understanding so much better what was behind it.  His parents had severe marital problems and he was the product of an unwanted pregnancy, and he knew it from the time he was little because his mother would say things like, "I never wanted you anyway," and his older sister was the one carrying him around on her hip and mothering him.  Both mother and sister had very mean personalities.  No matter what he did, he could never be enough. He was a successful businessman in several ventures but lost them all to alcohol.

    Similarly, I was consistently given the message, even as a little girl, that I wasn't enough. I realized several years ago that my very existence never felt acceptable, and the more I've pieced together and learned about my mother the more I've realized that this is really true. I believe strongly that my dad was ready to have a baby much sooner than she was and so she felt pressured into getting pregnant when she did. When she saw how much my dad adored me, she saw me as competition for his affections.  For most of my growing up years I had a desperate need for approval and acceptance.  The arenas I sought after those things in were at church, being the goody-two-shoes who was well behaved and knew all the answers; and through praise or achievements in areas I was talented in, such as music and dance.  I was in ballet for eleven years and in modern dance/jazz for about four years after that, and if I left a class without a compliment from my teacher I was devastated.  If someone outperformed me in some way it took the wind out of my sails, rather than spurring me on to stronger effort and I would sink into depression and hopelessness.  The way it felt to me was that a compliment to someone else was a personal rejection of me.  I couldn't figure out for the longest time why I would do that; now I understand that it's because it was all rooted in approval that was withheld at home, and when I didn't get it in the places I felt like I could get it, it was further validation to me that I was worthless.

    My grandpa was always trying to cope with pain that never went away, and the alcohol cushioned it.  I'm really a lot more like him in a lot of ways than I realized, but instead of alcohol I use food or other coping behaviors.

Thoughts About the "F" Word (Forgiveness, That Is)

I think anyone who has been through abuse can relate to the joke I attempted up there with the title of this post. :)  Humor is one of the ways I cope with this process--some days it's easier to do than on other days, and sometimes the humor can be pretty dark; some days it's not there at all.  I love the days where I'm able to genuinely laugh and have fun, finding the bright humor in everyday situations.

Obviously, you can tell that I'm not in a fabulous place when it comes to forgiveness.  I don't have it figured out yet, and I'm not rushing to it.  I can't count how many times during my life I've focused on needing to forgive, thought I did it, and then realized that obviously I didn't because more pain and anger would come up. I've learned over time that it's because I rushed to attempt forgiveness before going through the rest of the process of healing that needed to come first, and that includes letting yourself feel the emotions that are part of the wound--sorrow, grief, anger, etc.  If you try and rush the forgiveness process you don't fully process those emotions and when they come back up you feel like a rotten person for "holding grudges."  At least that's how it's been for me.

What exactly is forgiveness?  I can tell you for sure what I know it is not, and that is saying that what happened was okay and then pretending nothing ever happened.  And I think one reason this one screws with my head so much is the way it was exercised in my home, especially in regards to how my mom defined forgiveness.

First off, I have never known my mom to take accountability for her mistakes or actions that hurt other people.  Ever.  If someone dares to stand up to her, say she was hurtful or rude, etc. she flies into a rage and/or freezes the person out.  When I was living at home the freeze-out sessions usually lasted for 3 weeks, regardless of how I tried to apologize or desperately tried to communicate with her to reach a better understanding.  It was the definition of walking on eggshells.

There would be many times when I would be upset in my room over something she had done and she would come in (this was usually after she did something that had a traumatic impact) to "talk" to me and tell me that she was sorry she spanked me too hard or whatever, but then pointed out why I deserved it.  Then she would say that she would try harder if I tried harder, and after I said I would then she would say that we needed to "forgive and forget" and pretend nothing had ever happened.  I got duped more than once into thinking that meant things were going to get better. Turns out her definition of forgiveness, at least in action, was "You need to forgive me, but I get to keep doing the same things over and over and you just need to get better at taking it."

How often do parents, when they are teaching their children about apologizing and forgiving, coach their children to say "That's okay," when the other person says they're sorry?  Maybe most other families didn't do forgiveness like this, but this is the language of forgiveness that I heard all the time, not just in my home.  It's the knee-jerk response that a lot of people use when someone says they're sorry about something--"Oh, that's okay."  Now, I try to use phrases like "I forgive you," "Thank you for apologizing," etc.  That phrase, "That's okay," has been a huge trigger for me and has given me real issues when it comes to looking at forgiveness because the things that happened to me are NOT okay.

About five years ago I read a book called Toxic Parents by Susan Forward.  This book was so helpful to me, and I have recommended it many times to other survivors.  The whole book is excellent, but one of the things that helped me the most was her section on forgiveness and how she defines and approaches it in relation to abuse.  In all honesty, my knee-jerk reaction when I read other books and they addressed forgiveness was that I was ticked off.  I did not want to hear another person talking about just forgiving and moving on, because I had tried doing that and it wasn't working and I felt completely invalidated by the whole experience. I also felt that my pain, feelings and other needs were completely disregarded in the process, and this is how I felt during the times I was abused. Talk about adding insult to injury. I was pleasantly surprised and intrigued by the title of this chapter in Toxic Parents--"You Don't Have to Forgive."  Wha-whaaat???  What I found in this chapter was a version of forgiveness I could live with.

Early in her professional career she, like many others in her profession, encouraged clients to work on forgiving cruel or abusive parents.  She also had clients who entered therapy claiming they had already forgiven their toxic parents, but she found that more often than not, they didn't feel any better for having forgiven.  They still had their symptoms, "forgiving" hadn't created significant or lasting changes for them, and often they felt even more inadequate than they had before.  As she re-examined forgiveness, she came to the conclusion that there are two facets to it; giving up the need for revenge or getting even, and absolving the guilty party of responsibility.  The first is pretty important to work on, mostly because revenge keeps stirring up the emotional chaos for the survivor and wastes your energy and time.  Letting go of this aspect is difficult, but is clearly a healthy place to get to.

The second aspect, absolving the guilty party of responsibility, is another issue altogether and gets pretty complicated.  In cases of abuse particularly, the danger there is that it can actually become another form of denial, creating that scenario where you pretend that what happened wasn't so awful.  It undercuts your ability to let go of your pent-up emotions.  As she puts it, "How can you acknowledge your anger against a parent whom you've already forgiven?  Responsibility can go only one of two places:  Outward, onto the people who have hurt you, or inward, into yourself. Someone's got to be responsible.  So you may forgive your parents but end up hating yourself all the more in exchange (page 179)."  Another dangerous aspect of this to me is that you are then vulnerable to repeatedly going back for more because you feel like you don't have any right to refuse being around the person. Forgiving someone doesn't mean that you are obligated to hang out with them; in fact, if you do that you are sending them the message that you are fine with that kind of treatment and you are opening yourself up to be abused again. It really screws with your boundaries.

There is much more in the book, so if this resonates with you I urge you to obtain a copy and read it.  I bought my own so I could highlight the things that I could relate to and things that were helpful to me.  The bottom line that I took from this particular chapter was that I could work on letting go of a need to get even, but that I needed to be free to assign responsibility where it belonged, rather than carrying blame that belonged on someone else's shoulders. Another aspect of this that is important to realize is that shifting blame and guilt onto the victim is something that the abuser does on purpose.  You have to be free emotionally to reassign that squarely back onto their shoulders. You don't necessarily need to do this through confrontation or telling them, but you need to do it within yourself.  I can't describe how freeing it was emotionally for me to embrace this approach to forgiveness.  I still hate lessons on forgiveness in church, etc. because most people don't grasp this and the discussion can get so condescending, but I am at least at peace with this approach.  I hope that what I have shared here can help you, too.