Why I Chose Estrangement
I chose me.
My grandmother — on her deathbed — said, “I’m a liar!”
She said it to my sister before she died, and she was right.
She was a liar.
She was a passive-aggressive, manipulative trouble-maker. Never happy unless someone else was miserable.
She married on the rebound for convenience and lived to regret it. Back in her day, you couldn’t just get divorced. It wasn’t done. You got married young, and you got what you settled for — no returns.
Even though I feel for her lost love and the times she lived in, her mistake didn’t just affect her. Rivers of toxic dysfunction run through my family.
When I was 24, I woke up beside another guy I was dating out of self-hatred and desperation.
At that moment between slumber and consciousness, I had a vision that changed everything.
I saw my life laid out before me and it led straight to bitterness and regret. If I continued to sell myself out, I knew I’d die a bitter old lady just like her.
So I made a choice.
I never wanted to sacrifice myself for anyone ever again. That day I promised myself I’d find a better way. It took a long time and a lot of hard work but eventually, I did it.
The dysfunction in my childhood gave me everything from attachment issues to chronic anxiety and PTSD. As a result, I was a “problem child” who acted out.
I was labeled as difficult and used to whitewash my parent’s unhappy marriage. My siblings copied my parents and I became the family scapegoat. It was a satisfactory dynamic for everyone but me.
Unconsciously, I felt a sense of responsibility, a duty to be that person. To be defective and broken. To shoulder the blame, shield everyone from scrutiny, and distract from the truth.
Even as I write this, I feel guilty and shameful. Like I’m being disloyal by speaking my truth.
If you’re a scapegoat you have a purpose. You’re the smoke and mirrors that hide the secret. People don’t like to expose their secrets so they’ll fight to keep the dynamic that feeds the illusion. It can be difficult to break free.
Breaking free wasn’t easy, but for me it was necessary.
I spent most of my life trying to win over people who didn’t want to be won over. I couldn’t understand why nobody seemed happy when I got my life together. Why everyone got more mean and passive-aggressive as I got healthier.
To cope, I developed some strategies to try to make sense of things:
- I played a game in my head called, “What would normal people do?” I’d revisit a situation where I’d been heavily gaslighted and play it back in my head, imagining what normal people might do. Imagining a fair and reasonable scenario.
- I taught myself to recognize when I was being triggered and resist the bait. It took therapy, tapping, and a hell of a lot of mindfulness but I eventually realized people were deliberately triggering me and doing it often.
- I learned to calmly hold people accountable for their words and actions. I started calling out passive-aggressive behavior.
I stopped playing the family game. Stopped being the victim, empowered myself, and the dynamic began to change.
That’s when things got ugly. So I made a choice.
I chose me.
Six years ago, I had open-heart surgery complete with the obligatory near-death experience. Two years later, I had a breast cancer scare. More recently, IBS sent me to the emergency room with pain on par with childbirth.
Eight hours in agony with no medication gets you thinking about life.
In all cases, before the possibility of death was off the table I was content with my life and satisfied with my choices.
I looked down the tunnel again and what I saw at the end was a life well-lived, with true love and happiness, no regret, and no bitterness.
And I realized…
I. Am. Free.
Putting distance between us has had another unexpected side-effect.
I’ve been able to forgive.
Now that I’ve healed, I can forgive. I can’t be around them, but I can forgive them.
I can embrace real forgiveness. Deep, penetrating, absolution. The kind that drains anger and fosters perspective.
…and that forgiveness has carved out a path back to love.
Thanks for reading!
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