In my last post, I discussed my commitment to move ahead with my life in the knowledge that I have no extended family. That reality is still very clear to me, and I got a very vivid reminder of it last night.
As you might have noticed, I have a rather large extended (former) family, with many, many cousins. At this moment, I’m turning my attention to a cousin I’ll call Boris. I haven’t seen Boris in 30 years or more. I never knew her well, but over time, a couple of people in the family made remarks to the effect that she might have been abused as a child. As cousin Ralph might point out, I have no way of knowing one way or the other. Boris herself has never said anything about it. If she did, I would believe her, but we’re never going to get anywhere close to that conversation.
Read on for details.
After I had scattered the ashes of my hope for an extended family, my conscience started to bother me about Boris. What if she were another survivor? What if she thinks she’s the only one? It didn’t feel right to simply go away without saying something to her, but what should I say? I stewed on it for awhile, and I finally realized that all I needed to do was to give her my contact information, in case she ever wanted to get in touch with me. (Please stop groaning.) So, I sent her a message that was as benign and as neutral as I could possibly make it:
“Hi, I’m your cousin…I now go by my Hebrew name of Rachel, and I’m married. If you ever want to contact me, you can reach me at rachel.vermont@comcast.net.
I hope that all is well with you.
Rachel”
I knew that the family lie had made it to the outermost reaches of my (former) family, so I knew it was entirely possible that the lie had made it to her door. I felt good in my heart for having done the ethical thing, and that was all that mattered to me. And so, I was prepared for her to ignore me, or to simply say “Fuck off.”
But no. Nothing is that easy in my (former) family. I’ll paraphrase Boris’ response. She said:
1. She doesn’t have a cousin anymore.
2. Her losing me as a cousin was my choice.
3. I have to live with my choice, so go to hell.
4. If I ever contacted her or any member of her family again, she would seek out a civil harassment restraining order.
I will never have to get all “Aspie-and-wordy” again to describe the toxic nature of my original family system. You have the whole family dynamic in a nutshell, right here: shunning, blaming, distortions, lack of compassion, and unprovoked threats. There it is. All on a platter, along with my head.
And why? Because I offered someone I barely know my email address and said I hoped she was well.
Okey dokey.
So, then I got to talking with Bob and with a good Aspie friend of mine about this latest turn of events, and I suddenly realized that I was being bullied. Moi, bullied? I thought. Moi, with a blue belt in karate? Moi, with 25 years of therapy under my belt? Moi, the mama bear who has been known to risk reputation and throw social graces to the wind on behalf of her (now nearly grown) little cub? Yes, I’m afraid so.
And then, I thought, wow, that’s exactly what happened with my parents and with my brother. They bullied me. My father bullied me with physical pain, with unwanted touch, and with threats of harm. My mother bullied me with lies, ridicule, and manipulation. My brother once pinned me to a car because I disagreed with something he said, and he shunned me when I broke contact with my parents. And then there was Uncle Sylvia, and our disastrous conversation of three years ago, in which he ridiculed me for asking for love and compassion over what I had suffered. And come to think of it, every single family member who has heard the lies about me and believed them has been bullying me with their silence and their rejection ever since. It’s absolutely amazing to finally realize it.
All this bullying, all directed at me. Innocent, good-hearted, clueless, Aspie me. But why? I have a few ideas. (Feel free to add your own).
1. I walk into every room thinking that people are all set to receive love, attention, and goodness from me. I just have to be clear and non-threatening, and we’ll all get along, right? What could be simpler? Ha ha. It’s not bad to want to be loving and attentive, but the expression “pearls before swine” keeps coming to mind.
2. I am very childlike. I have a kind of innocence that all the abuse in the world has never been able to take away from me. So, I figure that people feel powerful bullying an innocent person. Or something. I have no idea. It’s just a guess.
3. For much of my life, I tried so eagerly, so earnestly, and so innocently to figure out the rules and play by them that people began to see me as defenseless. And, as a kid, I was defenseless, just as any other kid. But for me, there was an extra element of defenselessness, because little autistic me could not understand lying, cruelty, social rules, and social hierarchies. I just kept trying to make sense of them and be everyone’s friend. That made me more than a little vulnerable.
4. Despite my once-unquenchable desire to figure out the rules, fit in, and be normal, I have always been the Achilles heel of the family. Why? I’m an Aspie. I speak the truth. I break illusions. As such, I am the person who is the ever-present reminder that the family ain’t nearly as perfect as everyone would like to pretend it is.
5. I am the person who left the bullies behind. A dysfunctional family system cannot tolerate people leaving just on account of they’d rather not be bullied.
So, I reach out to someone genetically related to me, on the off chance that she might need it, just to feel that I’ve done the right thing, and the whole family system comes roaring right at me.
God, I’m having a serious autism moment. The gig has been up for a long time, and I’m the last to know.
Comments and hugs both appreciated.
© 2010 by Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg
*Many gentle hugs* I am so sorry you have been through all this and that your biological family offers no support, or even some acknowledgement that you are family. I have such a hard time comprehending this (perhaps its the little Aspie mind). I just don’t understand how people can be so cruel. I like to believe that everyone is inherently good. Unfortunately, through life’s experiences, I have found this isn’t always the case. Anyway, I don’t know what to say except my heart goes out to you.
Hi Rachel,
Sorry you’re having such a difficult time. I never thought of it that way but you’re right. You ARE being bullied. Now I have to re-examine my in-laws behaviour towards my wife. Sometimes that’s bullying too – and it can’t be tolerated.
As to why. People bully anyone whom they feel they can have an advantage over. It’s used as a way to build oneself up, by knocking others down.
I’d like to say that there’s justice in this world for bullies but the truth is, there isn’t. The best you can do is remove yourself from their attention. It sounds like you’re doing just that.
If nothing else, you can at least feel happy about maintaining the higher moral ground.
Rachel lots of hugs from me too.
There are some people who see kindness as weakness. It isn’t, but they despise ‘softness.’
Maybe Boris hardened up and lost all her softness. Boris is obviously not strong enough to handle a friendly approach from a relative
I don’t know why she behaved the way she did, but it was unbelievably shockingly harsh.
I can identify with your innocence, because all the time that you were saying that maybe it was better to forget your family, I thought: ‘there might/must be just one sweet kind relative somewhere.’ I hoped. I hoped that you would find that person and you would feel happier because of it. I still hope.
I read that this sort of problem is enormously complex because children genuinely still love their parents despite the abuse. They genuinely want to protect the same parents who abused them. To some children the abuse is their only way of receiving attention from their parent/s. It sounds like your family are desperately trying to stop you opening up a can of worms.
But you might just have stopped the cycle of abuse: you speaking up might have stopped family members who had that same abusive inclination. Your speaking up forced them to consider that their children don’t always remain silent. I think that your strength in confronting your parents must have had a good impact.
Rachel, I hope that it’s just a matter of time that find someone in your family you can reminisce with. Please try and be patient, and give yourself a little breathing space from searching. You are a strong woman, and a kind woman. Don’t let their barbarity change your sweet nature.
As a child, I was often bullied by NT’s because I was different and because I didn’t understand their cockamamie rules. (There were times when I picked on people even more pathetic than me- something I am not proud of but happened in early childhood.) The bullying of me continued through adolescence and beyond. Despite my advanced degrees, my blackbelt in Tae Kwando, and other achievements, I still suffer from low self-esteem and occasional condescension from others.
Stop beating your head against the proverbial brick wall. Your bio family sound like a bunch of creeps. Thank goodness you were blessed with Aspergers so you are not like them.
Mucho hugs.
Bullies are cowards. I have an extreme dislike for them.
I’ll back you up against a bully any day!!
Many, many hugs to you Rachel. Don’t know what else to say, but have been thinking of you and the things you have been through.
Aspie-friendly gentle cyberhugs to you. I’m so sorry to see you going through this. Sounds like some of my extended family members (through blood and through marriage). Minimal contact is the way to go. I have no time for bullies and players of mind games.
You did well, Rachel. Even though her response was hostile, you gave her a chance, and, if she ever does come to a point where she needs to tell something, she knows one sympathetic family member: you. It is no small thing to have escaped such vicious and demoralizing behaviour by the people who were supposed to teach you about love. You survived, (and sometimes you will look back), but you haven’t left any loose ends to regret.
Thank you all for your hugs, support, and strengthening words. I feel much better about the whole situation. As my therapist said today, the bad news is that my family has kicked me out, and the good news is that my family has kicked me out!