For shameful deeds are taught by shameful deeds.
Sophocles
Love is not something we give or get; it is something that we nurture and grow, a connection that can only be cultivated between two people when it exists within each one of them – we can only love others as much as we love ourselves. Shame, blame, disrespect, betrayal, and the withholding of affection damage the roots from which love grows. Love can only survive these injuries if they are acknowledged (and) healed…
Brené Brown
Disenfranchised grief is grief that is not openly acknowledged or publicly supported through mourning practices or rituals because the experience is not valued or counted [by others] as a loss.
Tashel Bordere
When caught up in fear, I am ashamed of my shame and prefer to keep it under wraps.
Patrick Little
My relationship with shame goes back a long way. Shame, blame, disrespect, betrayal, and the withholding of affection – the wounds which damage the roots from which love grows – as formulated by Brené Brown, are all familiar to me.
This week’s reflections explore the role of the family system and associated dynamics in the emergence of shame in early life and how best they can be acknowledged, transcended, and transformed.
Before delving into my family of origin, it is important to state that blame is no longer an issue in my explorations. This certainly was the case earlier in life. In fact, before embracing the path of Twelve Step recovery in 2003, I considered myself `the only good guy left´! Everybody but me was to blame for my difficulties.
With the inner work of recovery, however, the need for blame has been lifted. In its place there is now compassion for self, others, and circumstances. The daily cultivation of Mental Fitness using the PQ modality, described elsewhere on my website, has also been instrumental in overcoming the blame game.
Recovery entails abstinence from addictive substances and processes. It requires the willingness to relinquish the `Lone Ranger´ mentality and to join a recovery community, where we can learn with and from each other. By learning to share vulnerably in such communities, we rediscover hope and trust, allowing us to then address the unhealed trauma that underlies the addictions.
In doing this work, we cannot dodge the old wounds and thus re-feeling the original pain. That is the difficult part. Like many of my fellows, I want recovery, but I want to do it on my own and without pain. These ideas come from the old voices of shame and fear.
In exploring my family dynamics, it is also important to acknowledge the loving kindness that pervaded our family of origin, in conjunction with the systemic dysfunction described below. Many precious gifts were created and shared through this kindness. Wounds are part and parcel of the human experience. It was not for lack of kindness that wounds were inflicted. It was, rather, lack of awareness.
Finally, these are simply my subjective perceptions. Ask any of my siblings and you may get an entirely different picture of what it was like to grow up in our home.
In the following brief observations on the family system, it is important to note that every family finds itself in an on-going dance back and forth along a continuum between the poles of function and dysfunction, in line with inevitable changes in circumstances and the personal development that occur as life unfolds.
The lens of these observations is directed at multiple generations of family. Most of us have little or no information about life a century ago, but we often do have ancient family lore to draw upon and, in some cases, more detailed insights with respect to more recent generations, beginning with our great-grandparents or grandparents. Our direct line of sight then stretches through our parents’ and our own generation to that of our children and theirs, depending on our age and circumstances.
1) In contrast to the open, expanding, and changing nature of a healthy family, the dysfunctional family tends to be rigid, closed, and secretive.
The rigidity of my family of origin was most evident in its fidelity to the fundamentalist teachings of the Catholic church in the conservative psychosocial culture of mid 20th-century Ireland. This was a culture soaked in the punitive energies of the Old Testament. While, thankfully, our family culture was informed by the Light of Christ, it was dominated by the energies of Moses, Abraham, Satan, and the fires of hell.
Family rigidity expressed itself in ways that perplexed me as a child. You became an adult, for example, not over time as you developed in maturity, but in a binary fashion, on the day you got married. Until then, you were destined to live according to the dictates of the family culture, as expressed through the parents and members of their generation.
Here, my escape hatch was `getting out of town´ as soon as possible.
An extremely debilitating form of rigidity manifested with respect to sexuality. To put it bluntly, sex was bad, and that was the end of the (unspoken) discussion. As we children (ten in all: where did we come from?) approached adolescence, this resulted in the exile of all things sexual to the world of secrets.
For me that was bound up with unbearable shame, the shame of simply being sexual, having and dealing with sexual feelings which, according to the family ideology, should not have been present in an obedient `good boy´.
2) In healthy families, feelings are allowed and shared.
I see this now more often in contemporary families, especially where family members have embarked on the inner work of healing and self-realization. In our family of origin, however, the system controlled which feelings were allowed and how feelings were expressed.
In part, this was clearly inherited. Both grandfathers had been soldiers who saw combat in the early 20th century, a topic which undoubtedly left scars that were never openly acknowledged, explored, and processed.
Grief was also a topic which got little or no attention. My dad was 14 years old when he lost his father. A beloved brother of his died suddenly in his twenties, weeks after he had served as best man at our parents’ wedding. The feelings surrounding such events were never part of the family dialogue. For me, the grief was somehow powerfully palpable, yet invisible and beyond my reach.
Disenfranchised grief can be even more difficult to detect. Examples of disenfranchised grief may include loss of a partner or parent due to death or divorce, loss of an unborn child and/or infertility, the multitude of losses experienced through sexual assault, physical or spiritual abuse, and the loss of a loved one to suicide. Each family is as sick as the secrets it keeps.
In our house, anger manifested intermittently in an explosive fashion. In between it was hidden in passive aggressive behaviours. The rolling of eyes up to heaven, the slamming of doors, the stony silences. The climate of this minefield was extremely difficult to endure, its topography dangerous to traverse.
It was never clear what would happen next, so vigilance seemed like a good idea. Extreme vigilance has the effect of distancing us from those around us. When walking on eggshells, we are both lonely and afraid, ideal conditions for the emergence of shame.
In large families, levels of stress run high. Just imagine the noise, the chaos, and the logistics necessary to keep things moving forward. In this respect, our parents had recreated that with which they were familiar, both having grown up in families of eleven children, but without the extra resources their parents had been able to engage (housekeepers, tutors, gardeners, etc.). They were, understandably, often overwhelmed. Both went to early graves having just reached their fifties.
3) Whereas, in healthy environments, mistakes are acknowledged, gently disciplined where appropriate, and forgiven, in our family they tended to be punished, judged, and shamed.
When family stress becomes chronic, tolerance for mistakes tends to be a rare commodity. Under such circumstances, it became necessary to hide my mistakes. The resulting default modes of lying, manipulating, and controlling are still deeply etched, as Saboteurs, in my psyche. My daily practice of PQ Mental Fitness helps prevent such Saboteurs from permanently hijacking me today. When they do, as happens on occasion, emotional balance is now restored faster.
4) In a healthy family, children can be children, just as they are, with needs and wishes which are acknowledged and met in an age-appropriate manner.
`The feelings and needs of others are far more important than mine´, is one of the subliminal messages of my family of origin.`Don’t be so selfish!´ and `You should be ashamed of yourself´: these were among the canons often times fired by overwhelmed caregivers in the heat of battle.
5) Serving the system.
The logistics burdens of large families often lead to parentification, where children are expected to carry out duties more applicable to grown-ups. Twelve-year-olds should not be expected to play parent to their younger siblings, for example. In this respect, my impression was that it was my obligation to serve or exist for the system rather than that the system was there to serve and support me.
6) Healthy boundaries.
For a child to develop and thrive, healthy boundaries are indispensable. The child in our family of origin had no rights to boundaries.
A child was simply a miniature version of an adult, minus the rights to which any adult would lay claim. My approach was to get recognition of boundaries by growing up as fast as possible, by contributing and thus lessening the load on the operational level. Despite my best efforts, the recognition was never forthcoming.
Individual boundaries in areas such a private space, silence, or property were not respected or valued, the reasoning being, with some justification, that these could not be afforded.
7) In healthy families, each generation redefines what family is.
I believe each new generation needs to create its own response to life, as society, technology, and spirituality evolve. They thus take responsibility for their unique place and time in Creation.
Dysfunctional families, on the other hand, are very focused on `intergenerational repeats´, placing a high value on attitudes and values handed down over generations at the expense of creative enquiry, innovation, and adaptation.
8) In thriving families, roles are chosen by each member, based on individual characteristics and the prevailing circumstances of the times.
Each individual child brings a unique set of gifts into the world. The unprejudiced exploration and cultivation of these gifts by the entire family can be very fulfilling for all concerned.
In rigid family systems, roles are assumed via the function of the system. Seniority, gender, and aspired social standing are examples that come to mind.
One of the highly held values in my paternal family, for example, was education. Imagine my surprise upon learning from my last surviving aunt that this value was reserved for the boys only. No such luxury was ever afforded the girls, regardless of capabilities, preferences, or personal ambition.
Another example in the case of my generation was academic achievement. Both of our parents were academics who grew up in families where academia was held in high esteem and promoted. In my generation, not every child’s gifts were suited to the academic path. Unrealistic expectations can blind us to new possibilities, and often result in tension, resentment, self-loathing, and shame.
The healthy functioning of a family creates the openness, compassion, and vulnerability in which shame cannot take hold. When the health of the system is sabotaged, addiction – both substance and process related – tends to take hold, making such families rife breeding grounds for shame and the transmission of wounds from one generation to the next.
By recognizing and embracing the systemic nature of family, we can leverage the power of recovery way beyond the scope of the individual. As the individual recovers, so too will the family to a certain degree, perhaps even unwittingly. As the shadow of shame is brought into the light, it loses its grip on us and our families.
Instead of merely transmitting the ancient wounds to the next generations, we are now able to transform them, for the benefit of our entire human family and the world in which we live.
