Some of us chose to leave our families behind and for worthy reasons. We may have left because we no longer wanted to carry the pain (not that we couldn’t, because we all know we have a high tolerance for family abuse), we wanted to know what life could possibly be like, look like; taste, smell, feel! Without the toxicity of our families. So why do I and others find themselves not prancing through meadows of lavender and lilacs, but rather trudging through the trenches of deep sorrow and sudden emotional aches, that can only be described as some sort of loss…Not just of the family, but ones very own identity.

When there is a loss of a parent-child relationship, there is a loss of an identity; more specifically the loss of your identity within the family system. A sense of belonging has been key to ones survival for centuries, ones family tends to be the central way people find that belonging and is integral part of their identity as they develop over the ages (Scharp & Mclaren, 2017). When estrangement occurs one may start to question ones sense of self and the role they play in life; whether it is at work, in their community, or with other relationships (particularly their intimate ones). Research also shows that there is much angst and ambiguity around the estrangement process, in particular how others could perceive you if you have chosen to severe ties with your family (Agllias, 2017). 

So, who are we without them? Who am I, without playing the role of scape goat, the black sheep, the punching bag physically and verbally? When you grow up in a household of chaos, all you know is…Chaos. I find myself either with shields up and fists out, or seeking that sweet familiar tornado of a life; I once knew, all too well. My identity as a member of the family I was born and raised into, was a complex one. I was the one who was to keep the peace and to appease the mothers tumultuous moods. I was the one who could never do good, no matter how much I gave and gave of my physical and emotional 5-year-old body. My memories fade in and out. I have blacked out a majority of my upbringing, much like the alcohol induced black outs I came to rely on in my adolescence. I was the ‘wild child’ and the ‘too much.’ I was the one who held all the family secrets and it scared the shit out of them. Mother did everything in her power to keep me from speaking and despite it all, I played my role just enough to survive, but not enough to let her destroy my essence and the truths that laid blazing deep in the gut of my soul. My identity shifted as the years went on, I became the rebellious one and then the sick one. I fulfilled their prophecies that I would always amount to nothing and become nothing. I showed them how much I really could become damaged goods, and for a time I drowned myself in all the pain I could seek and that sought me, enough to teeter between the lines of death and the bleakness of life.

But, that was years ago and I am one of those, who has chosen to remove themselves from the family system. I was never really one of them and I never was the identity they beat me into. They never broke me, as much as they tried.

References

Agllias, K. (2017). Missing family: The adult child’s experience of parental estrangement. Journal of Social Work Practice, 32(1), 59-72. doi:10.1080/02650533.2017.1326471

Scharp, K. M., & Mclaren, R. M. (2017). Uncertainty issues and management in adult children’s stories of their estrangement with their parents. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships,35(6), 811-830. doi:10.1177/0265407517699097