We all owe our families a debt of gratitude. If not for them, we might never have a need for therapy! We’ve all heard of the women who were raised with alcoholic parents, then can’t seem to get out of the cycle of being with or marrying alcoholic men. They’ve seen the damage done to loved ones first hand, and yet they continue the cycle. Why? The answer is simple….it’s what they know. Humans find comfort in the known, and fear in the unknown. It took me unimaginable loss and two years of therapy before I began to understand why I’d chosen friends that were comfortable, but ultimately destructive to me.
I was raised in a family where I understood and accepted that which was expected of me. When my parents divorced and my mom went to work outside of the home, I became the primary caretaker in the home for much of the day. I was eleven! I watched over my three younger siblings, kept the house clean, and usually had dinner on the table in the evening. It never occurred to me to NOT do those things!
Mom loved to sing and she sang semi-professionally for much of my childhood. She sang gospel music and, along with her friends, recorded four albums. I remember many a weekend when “The Helmsingers” loaded up their husbands, wives, and 21 children, and traveled up and down the state of California to one church gig after another. When the singing group broke up, my mom taught her three daughters to sing three-part harmony. We were NOT good! We did, however, get up in front of the church in our matching dresses, and sing. I remember having a deep sense of obligation to do so.
My mom loved to dance around the house, and she taught us to “jitterbug”. I remember asking her for dance lessons and being told that it was “against our religion”. I was raised in a conservative Seventh-Day-Adventist home and there were many things I knew I’d never be allowed to do because they would have conflicted with the Sabbath. My place in the family and in the church had been established, and I was well aware of what was expected of me. I didn’t balk at those things because I wanted very much to be the “good girl”. I was the girl that never said “no” and whenever something was asked of me, I did it.
I got married and had children and serving my family was (and is) my greatest joy. I didn’t recognize it at the time, but I was choosing friends that needed me to serve them and I equated that need with real friendship and love. They were NOT – I repeat NOT – bad people. We were being drawn to one another because the relationships were comfortable. It is comfortable for some people to be needy, and for others to be needed. I would often stay up all night long to write a scene for whatever production the Music Pastor had me working on. I took care of kids when their parents were sick or in the hospital; I baked home-made bread for the dad whose wife was hospitalized; I folded laundry and made the beds for my best friend when she had a hysterectomy. I did these things for these people because I loved them. I don’t remember ever thinking, “I’ll get paid back someday”.
Then….
The first indication I had that something was amiss was when my kids were very little (maybe 8, 9, and 12) and I had to have surgery. I had my thyroid removed and there were some complications that kept me hospitalized for four days. My husband and children came to visit me (of course) and a pastor’s wife came to see me as well. My mom and siblings never came, my friends never came, and family members from my husband’s side never came. Not one person offered to help out with the kids, or with meals and household chores. My hospital stay was anything but relaxing, as all I could think about was getting home to clean my house and take care of my kids. My other siblings had always had help when they’d needed it (oh, I could write a book on that subject alone!), but I was left alone. When I asked my mom why no one thought to help me out she said, “because you’re the strong one”.
Eventually, those same “friends” broke up with me. The bottom line really was…I no longer behaved the way THEY wanted me to. When it came right down to it, their friendship was based on what I could do for them. One of the friends, Rhonda, even told that I was “too weak” to be her friend! She used the Bible to defend her way of thinking, but when I asked her why she didn’t respond to me in the way the Bible taught she said, “I don’t like your victim mentality”. Unbelievable.
When my kids took their drug detours I was so busy pouring into them and my efforts to save their lives, that I didn’t have time for the rest of my family. Believe me, I heard about it!! When after a particularly difficult lunch at my house I told my extended family that I would never again host a party at my house, my mom said, “Oh yes you will”. No, I won’t. When I spoke out about the way some of my family members talk to one another and treat one another I heard, “what the hell is wrong with Liz”, or “I will no longer share my life with you.” You see, as long as I fall in line and do what is expected of me, I’m good. But as soon as I stand up for myself, or (God forbid) have a need, I’m not worthy of being served. In addition, we turned to the church for help, and received NONE!! We fought the battle to save our children’s lives completely alone. The good news is – we won! The bad news is – I can’t imagine ever trusting anyone enough to ask for help again.
So, where are we today? Well, I desperately need to have surgery, but I am so scared. As long as I don’t NEED anyone, I will not be reminded of the fact that there is no one in our life on whom we can depend. I will have to be bedridden for 6 weeks after surgery! I KNOW that my family and Tom’s family will not come over and help out with the household chores, or with meals. How do I know that? Because we’ve been in need before, but I was “the strong one”, and therefore didn’t need the help. I honestly believe that no one knows how to relate to the Liz who needs. They only know the Liz who serves and they want her back.