Now it’s up to me to heal generational trauma.
Right after waking up this morning, my first thought was of my Pawpaw.
I have not thought about him in over 10 years. He died when I was a kid. And whenever he was brought up, my mom would be distraught. So I have not thought about him in a very long time.
He was a tall, dark and handsome man in his time. He was an Italian man with dark olive-toned skin and jet-black hair. I only knew him as a grumpy old man, but I imagine he was charming with the ladies in his prime.
I see him sitting on the couch surrounded by boxes of pill bottles, which was the only place I ever saw him. He slept on that couch. He spent his days on that couch.
I can only remember one single time seeing him off the couch. That was when my mom was cleaning his fish tank.
He went to the back of the house and came out wearing swim trunks, a snorkel and fins, exclaiming, “Okay, I’m ready to clean the fish tank!”
I forgot about that. He was a funny guy sometimes.
But most of the time he was falling asleep while sitting up on the couch.
I remember the layout of his house, even though I have not been there since I was a child.
I remember how dark and dreary the house was. How every room was filled with clutter. How there was a bedroom packed with shopping bags stacked to the ceiling, each one full of unopened toys and dolls that I was not allowed to play with.
Then I remember the door to Pauline’s bedroom, and how Pawpaw only ever slept on the couch. He existed on that couch. Sitting slouched over, always wearing the same pair of black shorts.
I was there with my mom all the time, but I don’t remember ever seeing him any other way.
Then there was Pauline.
I remember the utter rage my mom and Nanny had because Pauline’s grandchildren called her nanny.
Because Nanny is what I always called my grandmother, as she called both of her grandmothers Nanny. She called one Big Nanny and the other Little Nanny.
So when Pauline had grandchildren and had them call her Nanny, my mom and Nanny were absolutely livid.
That was one of many things that my mom would vent to me about.
I was a small child, but my mom treated me like a friend. She told me all the family drama, including things that were inappropriate for children to know about.
She HATED Pauline.
Nanny HATED Pauline.
And then it hit me. That is why my mom was so nasty to my step-mom.
I never understood the drama between my mom, my dad and my stepmom.
I knew my mom was jealous. But it was so over the top. It was not rational.
There are a lot of stories that I plan to share here. So if you follow me, this will all make sense. And there are a lot of stories.
Now I am in no contact.
My stepmother has made a series of choices that have caused me significant pain and suffering. The events that have transpired are so bad that I no longer speak to my father or most of my family.
My family ostracized me and positioned as a scapegoat for all their problems.
I did not do anything to them.
I recognize they are both projecting unhealed trauma onto me because of years of toxic back and forth with my mother.
It took me years to understand where it was coming from, because for most of my life I internalized the pain and couldn’t understand why my dad and stepmom were treating me with such disdain.
I eventually realized that it was because of the torment of dealings with my mother over the years. They were not innocent either; the whole situation was toxic and nasty.
And they all blamed me that they had to deal with each other. Even though I was a small child and never asked for any of it.
It was very toxic. They hated each other. And all three of them made sure that I knew it.
I look back at myself as a child. That poor little girl found herself caught between three immature and unhealed adults, who projected their drama onto her.
I suffered throughout my childhood and now into my adult life because they never healed from the trauma they caused each other.
Their hatred carried over into me growing into an adult.
Because there was distance between them now, they didn’t have each other to attack anymore. But they did not stop attacking; they all just turned the target to me.
People have irrationally attacked me in numerous situations. It did not make any sense at the time because I did not do anything.
But then one of them would say something odd, and it was enough for me to finally realize that it had nothing to do with me. What they were projecting was unhealed trauma, and they saw me as my mother, not as my dad’s child.
It was a toxic dynamic that I had no say in.
I was not my mother. I was far from being my mother. As traumatized as they were from dealing with her, I was so much more traumatized from her being my mother.
She was supposed to be the one person who nurtured me and loved me. When a mother is hateful and jealous of her child, it causes a lot of pain and damage to the child.
All of my decisions were the opposite of what my mother did. Because I did not want to end up like her. And I didn’t.
Even though I was nothing like my mother, in my dad and stepmom’s mind I am her. And my son, their grandson, is me.
It is weird as fuck, if I am being candid.
There have been situations that did not make any sense why they were being so hateful and irrational. And then they would say something that did not fit the situation, but I recognized as things they would say to my mother when I was a child.
Now it is coming back.
I remember the hate my mother and Nanny had for Pauline.
Nanny and Pawpaw were married with children.
Pawpaw had an affair (a lot of affairs) on Nanny.
One day, Nanny got a letter in her mailbox letting her know he was having an affair and had a child on the way.
That is how she found out about Pauline.
The trauma that my mother and her brothers and sister experienced after that would severely damage every one of them.
Nanny and Pawpaw got divorced. Then Pauline became the stepmother who was Nanny’s enemy because she was the one who destroyed her family.
My heart aches for Nanny, but even more for her children. She was in pain and reacted in ways that inflicted more pain on her children.
There are some dark stories that I will share here.
But in this moment, I am unpacking the realization that much of the pain I am carrying was ultimately caused by my Pawpaw being a womanizer.
Almost all the pain I have experienced in my life is rooted back to the way my parents treated me.
What pain I endured that wasn’t directly from them, came from bad relationships that I attracted because I was unhealed, and it is what felt familiar. The men who hurt me the most were mirrors of my childhood trauma.
I allowed them to treat me poorly because I was chasing a different ending to my story. I thought that if they chose me and I could get them to treat me better, then it would heal the wounds that my parents left behind.
The pain that my father and stepmother inflicted on me came from their unhealed trauma from dealing with my mother.
My mother caused the most pain, because a child deeply yearns to be loved by their mother. When mothers attack their children instead of nurturing them, it really messes the children up.
She treated me that way because of her own pain.
That pain came from her parents.
As much as she hurt me, I feel sorry for her. I think of that little girl who had to survive a toxic and traumatic household where her mother inflicted pain onto her because of her own pain.
I feel bad for Nanny, too. Her alcoholic parents abused her as a child. And then abused by her first husband. And then cheated on and abused by her next husband.
At that point, she snapped. And unfortunately, her children suffered because of it.
My mom tormented my dad and stepmom, because of her traumatic experience with a step-mom and the vile hatred that her mom had for her step-mom. She projected that pain onto my dad and stepmom.
Then they projected their unhealed trauma onto me.
And now I am sitting here with the realization that much of the suffering I have experienced is pain that was passed down through generations and given to me undeservedly.
None of them deserved it.
But now I am sitting here with it. All because they did not heal from it.
It is left up to me to heal that pain, so that I do not pass it on to my son.
My mom used to talk about breaking the cycle, and I never understood what that meant. Suddenly, it all makes sense.
I have to face the pain they passed down to me and heal generational trauma.
And I am. Because it ends with me.
My son will never have to experience that generational pain.
💜,
Violet