My abuser died, and I don’t feel bad about feeling good.
By: Michael Unbroken
Tags: Death, Cptsd, Mental Health, Trauma, Forgiveness

We are taught to mourn the death of our family, our parents, especially. But, how can you mourn someone who hurts you? For a long time, I sat with the idea that from a societal perspective, we are supposed to feel pain when we lose a parent. I think about the burden of shame from others in our lives when we don’t show up kicking and screaming for one more moment together. They say we are supposed to cry, to scream no Lord, take me, and absolve them of their sins, but I don’t know if that is or should be valid for abuse survivors. On the day that my mother died, the only thing that I felt was peace.

There is a part of me that will always feel some sense of loss. I lost my childhood, my hopes, dreams, and mother. In that understanding, I have realized that just because you are born into a family does not mean that you have to be a part of it. We must let go of the idea that we somehow owe our parents something. I don’t know about you, but I did not choose to be born into this life. Now, that said, I also recognize that I am on this ride until it ends. So, I buckle up, and I go for it, but I go for it on my terms.

When I was a child, all I ever wanted was for my mother to choose me, my brothers, and my sister over pills, drugs, alcohol, and men. That never happened. She played the victim role until the day she died. I get it, and in fact, I don’t blame her. She was born into generational trauma, and unlike her children, she chose not to fight, and I understand why; eventually, you just don’t want the hurt to hurt anymore. But, her lack of fight leads to a childhood of pain, torment, suffering, and despair for my siblings and me. We suffered the consequences of her choices. I carry the scars of a severed finger, being a victim of covert incest, and countless moments of threats, physical and mental abuse, along with somehow always being the scapegoat for her choices.

I think about the moment that my brother called me to tell me that my mother died. I was sitting at my desk, much like this moment, writing. Moms dead. He whispered into the phone. I don’t know if he was in shock of her death or of it finally happening. I didn’t ask him how it happened or what time, or even where. I said thanks for telling me, and I went back to writing. I recognize how that may seem cold or easy to label as a trauma response, but the sense of peace that I felt was so intense that I smiled and felt a ton of bricks lifted from my shoulders. None of that experience was dissociation. In fact, I was so within myself that I felt like exploding. For the first time in my life, I truly felt like I was free of the pain. Of course, I would discover that I needed a lot of therapy, coaching, and personal growth before that freedom made sense, but at that moment, that was bliss.

I didn’t attend my mother’s funeral, wake, or burial. She had been dead to me for almost a decade when my brother called. I needed to remove her from my life as a teenager because I could see the collision course of her being present not far down the road. I could feel the potential impact of the stress that she brought into my life and how, eventually, her addictions would consume me like she had so many other people.

The abuse aside, I knew that I had to say enough. And when I turned sixteen, I put a restraining order on her. As I reflect on this moment, I realize how truly toxic my mother was, and to this day, choosing to get a restraining order is the single most important decision I have ever made. I went from a straight D/F student to straight A’s, captain of the wrestling team and dated a cheerleader. Not bad. But the biggest thing that happened is that I started to learn that it was OK to be me. I was no longer buried by the constant torment of being not good enough, being the cause of all the problems, or being the punching bag both metaphorically and realistically.

As a trauma coach, I look at the world through a different lens than most because I am always seeking a solution and a change in understanding how I think and my clients think about the world and ourselves. The number one hangup that most of us face is the dilemma of dealing with our abusers in our adult lives. I am not here to say one way or another what you should do within your family systems, but I think there is something to be said about not putting ourselves in a position where our abusers are allowed to be in our lives. I experienced exponential growth when I removed my mother, step-father, and grandmother from my life. Many people look at a decision like that as disrespectful or unwarranted. Still, I would challenge them to ask if they would be okay being in contact with another person who committed those same heinous acts? All signs point to no.

Family is so often the catalyst for the abuse we suffer. Most instances of abuse happen in the home or with the immediate family. Statistically, we are more likely to be hurt by our family than by a stranger. That is the impact of generational trauma within a family system. Abuse is learned behavior which trickles down and impacts again and again.

We are shunned for not mourning the loss of family, and some of us keep the secret well beyond what is reasonable. None of us should have to carry the shame of abuse. I think about what the word peace meant in the moment of learning of my mother’s death, and it meant that I no longer had to carry the burden of her actions any longer, and I felt right about that. Almost ten years later, I still feel good about it.

There will always be a part of me that is sad for my lost childhood. There will always be a part of me that mourns what could have been. And I am content with that, but no part of me misses the abuser. No part of me wishes that I felt more grief, sorrow, or pain over her death. Part of my peace in her death comes from knowing that I don’t get to control other people’s actions. The other part comes from understanding that she is no longer suffering. Those feelings bring me sovereignty. To be frank, I don’t feel bad about feeling good about the death of my abuser.

Until next time my friend…

Be Unbroken,

-Michael

P.S. You can take my brand new 1-hour course: The Key to Healing for FREE. Click Here:www.linktr.ee/michaelunbroken

@MichaelUnbroken

Michael@ThinkUnbroken.com

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