EveningRose

Today, I was reading the daily readings of the Catholic Mass, one of which included this:

This frustrates me, because I have spent my life being told why I'm really doing things, what I'm really thinking, what my motivations really are. I confess, it's left me feeling, even now to an extent, like I'm always in the dark, like just because I think I'm acting for good reasons, maybe I'm really not...as if I really have no clue about my own feelings, thoughts, and motivations, but others know them better than I do.

I haven't spoke much to any of my parents or siblings in 3 or 4 years now, and I'm pretty happy with that. I don't feel that I hate them. Even the one in particular who ticks me off no end, who I might even say I sort of dislike. But I don't hate them. I think I feel compassion for them, and understanding that they're all victims, too.

But they're going around telling people I 'hate' them.

I guess my question is...I'm sure I'm not the only one who has been told over and over again that the rest of the alcoholic family actually knows my innermost thoughts, feelings, and motivations better than I know them myself. How have you overcome this particular aspect of growing up alcoholic? How do you deal with this?

GingerM

Our family did this in spades. To this day, someone saying "What you really mean is..." will make me grind my teeth.

My therapist gave me a great statement to counter this. "You said that, not me. If that is how you feel, I'm truly sorry to hear it." A variation of my own is "I did not say that and I did not mean that. I said what I meant and I meant only what I said. If you choose to put more meaning on what I said than there is, then that lies on you."

The mechanism is that the person is wanting, for whatever reason, to make you the bad guy. So they put words in your mouth by saying "what you really mean is..." and then hold you accountable for things you never actually said or meant. They project their own feelings onto you.

Thing is (and it's so obvious when it's pointed out) - they're GIVING you something. You have the right and ability to refuse their "gift". That's what the two statements above do. The person is trying to give you their opinions so they can hold you accountable. The two statements above essentially refuse to accept the blame they are about to cast on you.

It took a lot of practice to get graceful at using those statements, but I got there eventually. It's not only my family that does this, it's amazingly pervasive in our culture - as if we all have secret meta-messages that we choose to hide. I have used both of those statements at work, dealing with clients, dealing with vendors, and of course, with my family. But they've come in handy well outside the circle of my family.

Kialua

There is a big difference in loving your family and being in their craziness. You can love them from afar if you need to, the scripture is not suggesting that you need to be with them to prove it. It is a heart matter. It is between you and God, you know and God knows that you love your family. But you can't live with their craziness. I don't let anyone tell me what I feel. If you need to tell them you love them but can't live with their craziness do it but it may just fall on deaf ears so better to resolve this with you and your HP.

On a side note I have been telling my husband what he "really" means a lot lately. I have to stop that. Thanks for the reminder.

EveningRose

Anvilhead, thank you! My parents are also devout Catholics. It's a wonder I've remained Catholic at all, given their behavior. It boggles my mind how they can fail to see some of these things, but that's a different story.

I can just about relate to the refrigerator thing. For awhile with my ex husband, it was so bad, him telling me things had never happened, had never been said, that I started writing down conversations verbatim so I could go back and know if I was really that crazy and mis-remembering, hearing things that had never been said, etc.

And I have long felt that it was my parents who set me up to ever believe him over myself in the first place. Looking back, I wonder how I couldn't have just said, the first time he pulled that on me, "Try again. I know what I heard, so cut the crap." But I couldn't. Because my parents had taught me I was a constant screw-up.