One of the long-lasting effects of sibling abuse is something psychologists call "learned helplessness:" a mental state in which a person feels powerless to avoid or escape an averse situation because he or she believes that his or her efforts will not be successful. The reason why it's called learned helplessness is because individuals who experience this have been conditioned by life circumstances to think they are powerless. When it comes to sibling abuse, "life circumstances" come in the form of abusive siblings and also the parents who do numerous things to contribute to the problem.
We're often told that being a kid is great. When you're a kid, you don't have to pay the bills, deal with the DMV, cook dinner, save for retirement, keep your health insurance, get out of debt, or any of those stressful responsibilities adults face every day. Children are pretty much free to do whatever they want. Heck, you can't even go to jail when you're a kid! Children certainly have it good living a life free of responsibilities.
But there's a catch. Children may not have responsibilities, but in exchange for that, they also don't have any freedom. When Mom and Dad are in charge, the kids don't have a say. Children are too young to manage money or make their own meals, and so we expect their parents to handle that for them. Actually, there are many responsibilities--like family discipline--that children can't and shouldn't handle. Hopefully, the parents are responsible adults who make good decisions. But what happens when the parents don't do that? All of a sudden, "lucky" children aren't so lucky anymore. Because when you're a kid, and your parents mess up, you pay the price.
In my family, sibling abuse was happening right underneath my parents' noses, and they didn't mutter a word about it. In fact, they even encouraged it! One time, my mother, sister and I were at a church potluck, filling our plates from the buffet table. My sister had just gotten to the bowl of re-fried beans, when she turned around to me and said, in a loud voice, "Sybil, don't take any beans. They always make you fart." My mom was standing immediately across from her and heard every word. I will always remember her reaction. Rather than disciplining my sister, my mom laughed and then said, "Oh, guess who shares a room! Ha ha ha!" Even back then, I remember thinking that my mom should have done something to stop her, and feeling hurt, humiliated and disappointed that she hadn't protected me.
What was possibly even worse was that my parents took away my power to protect myself. My dad was the worst offender. If he heard bickering in the background, he didn't care at all for the cause of the fight, he just wanted it ended. One time, we were in the car, and the same sister mentioned above began picking a fight with another one of my siblings. Getting angrier and angrier, I rushed to my other sibling's defense. My sister in turn screamed at me, enough to make me want to cry. I was just about to defend myself, when my dad yelled back, "Thank you, thank you," his words for "stop fighting right now!!!" And when we got home, I did cry. For about two hours.
When the car incident happened, I was in a period of my life where I had decided that enough was enough: I wasn't going to take any more crap from my siblings. I was finally going to stand up for myself and force my sisters to treat me right. "Devastated" is not a strong enough word to convey how I felt when my efforts didn't work. What disappointed me even more was my father not only not supporting me, but doing the opposite. He didn't care that my feelings were hurt, that my sister had just attacked me, and I needed to defend myself. He only cared about his own irritation towards the bickering (something he signed himself up for when he decided to have more than one child, I might add), and casually brushed my feelings aside.
The helplessness I felt as a result of my parents' actions was something I carried with me outside of the home. I struggled a lot to stand up for myself in the real world, afraid that fighting back would only bring me more pain. It was only years later that I began feeling a sense of control over my life again. In my twenties, I began noticing that I could stand up for myself when there wasn't another person yelling at me for doing so. I felt so much freer when I gained that little bit of control.
It is important for parents to realize their role in shaping the outcome of sibling abuse. We're taught that parents do nothing but positive things for their children: they feed, clothe, nurture, and protect their children. They put their children on the right path. When parents do do their jobs right, they really reap the benefits in how their children behave. But parents can also do many negative things--things that harm the family. Parents can make their children powerless, fail to correct children who misbehave, damage their children and render them less capable in the real world.
Taking a stand against sibling abuse means not only taking a stand against abusive children, but also against ineffective parenting methods. Parents, take a closer look at how you work with your children, and honestly evaluate if you need to change your ways. It is only when you do that when your children will change theirs as well.
For the past six years, I have been angry all the time. Every day, I've walked around with a black cloud over my head, my heart pounding, my teeth gritted and my hands clenched in fists. For those of you dealing with the aftermath of sibling abuse (or currently living through it), you are well acquainted with this sensation. Resentment is the shadow stubbornly stuck to the side of any sibling abuse survivor. And it feels like no matter what, you can't get rid of it.
Even when life was going well, my anger was always bubbling underneath the surface. I was a volcano who was going to explode at any moment. In the company of great friends, I was angry. Seeing a long-awaited movie in the theaters, I was angry. Catching a glimpse of my crush across the hall, I was angry. Eating great food, finding the perfect shirt in the mall, watching the sunset on the beach, hearing my favorite song coming on the radio, during all of those events, I was angry.
My resentment came from lots of things--being picked on by my siblings, not being protected by my parents, not being allowed to stand up for myself, and all of the other injustices, disappointments and heartbreaks that happened in my family.
I found that even when I left the nest, my anger came with me. I couldn't let it go. At least when you're at home, your anger can serve a purpose. It is a natural reaction to those who abuse you, and can serve to protect you when the need arises. But when you've left those people behind, there's no longer a reason to be as angry as you were. But no matter how frequently I told myself that, my anger stayed with me.
I'd consulted many sources of wisdom, from Buddha to Elizabeth Gilbert (the author of Eat,Pray, Love) on dealing with resentment. Each one of them said basically the same thing: holding on to anger was not healthy, and it was best to "just let it go."
Okay, I'd think to myself whenever I read something about "letting anger go," but it's not that easy. How do I "let it go" without doing what I've been doing my entire life: repressing my feelings and making myself even angrier?
It turns out there's an exact art and science to it.
I've tried many different ways to let myself be happier and put my anger aside. Here's what has worked and what hasn't.
It's not about repressing your feelings.
If you're doing it right, putting your anger aside shouldn't involve repression. The first time I tried to conquer my demons was a near catastrophe. It was a school field trip, and I was with my classmates, walking around a city, listening to a boring speaker drone on about historical facts I didn't care about. Demons are often triggered by frustrating events (at least I've noticed that for me), and what was frustrating me was the fact that we were standing in the freezing cold rain, bracing ourselves from the wind, and listening to a lady who just wouldn't shut up. It's like she didn't even notice the weather, because she happily stood there for about fifteen minutes yammering on about something I couldn't even hear over the noise of the wind and road.
Resentment is when an emotion like anger is attached to an old memory. When something in your current life makes you feel frustrated, memories attached to frustration can surface, making you more frustrated. So that moment, when my emotions came bubbling up to the surface, I thought if I just told myself, "don't be angry," everything would be all right. Big mistake.
As had always happened in previous years whenever I tried to stuff my feelings down, I ended up getting angrier. For the rest of the tour, I was boiling inside, about to explode. "THIS 'LET IT GO' STUFF DOESN'T WORK!" I was screaming to myself in my head, "I think I'd rather be angry." Actually, typing this makes me angry. Phew, I need to calm down. Hold on a sec.
Ok, I'm back.
As I was saying, freeing yourself from your anger shouldn't involve repressing your feelings. It involves different formula.
It's about redirecting your thoughts.
When I observed my own thought processes, I began to notice that there were many triggers for my anger, not just frustration. Being the introvert that I am, I frequently get lost in my thoughts. When I'm just standing around, thinking, my thoughts turn to all my old memories of having been in situations where I was hurt and powerless. And then I get angry.
When I get lost in my thoughts, my mind begins churning up things my parents and siblings have done and said to me. It's like my brain thrives on anger, and will not work unless fury is churning around in it.
What I decided to do instead of saying no to the angry feelings, was to say no to the images attached to the feelings. For example, instead of saying, "I will not be angry," to myself in the middle of a frustrating event, I would tell myself, "I will not think about the event that is making me angry." I would tell myself, "I will not think about the siblings who tortured me, the parents who didn't do their job, or the place where the event occurred." This new method helped a lot.
Additionally, I would redirect my mind to think of positive things. I would think of things that had gone well recently, like a compliment I had received, or some good food I'd eaten, or a new friend I'd made. Focusing on the good events and throwing away the bad ones gave me a greater sense of control over my life. And a part of me really liked that. The fact that I could make myself happier while respecting my anger was the key.
Your anger will still be respected.
The reason why I had resisted "turning off" my anger for so long was because I felt like it would have been treating my anger disrespectfully. If you're like me, then you probably think as I do, that you have a right to be angry. And you do! Anger is a natural and healthy response to what has happened to you. It's not wrong. When someone has treated you badly, it would be foolish to not be angry.
But when you're out and about, living your life, letting your anger consume you is also unwise. It is far, far better to tell your angry thoughts, "Okay, I hear you, I know how you feel, and right now I'm going to give you a break and focus on the good things in my life." Your anger is still there, and it still has its place, but that place is not interfering with the life you're currently living.
And when it's time to use your anger, you can choose to let it out. Use your anger productively, and tell your parents and siblings about how they have hurt you. This will be another post entirely, but using anger in that fashion is also a good way to respect your feelings.
Finally, it is important to remember that deciding to be happy does not make you weak. In fact, releasing anger's grip on you is one of the strongest things you can do. Happiness is not for ninnies. Happiness is a goal for all of us who are striving to live well. And living well is the best revenge.
