A story from my childhood...
This was a book that was read many, many times as a child.
Mom read books with my older brother and me, we were on the floor.
We did not connect with each other or her, we did not look at the pictures.
We did not touch.
The father asked how much each of his 3 daughters loved him.
The first said like sugar
The second said like sweets
The third, having sugar and sweets already taken,
she said she loved her father like salt,
for all the food in the kingdom wouldn’t taste so wonderful without salt.
Her father was angry and sent her away with a huge package of salt strapped to her back.
Abandoned. Exiled from her home. Banished, Cast out.
Consequences for something she said with honesty,
and without anticipating the results brought forth.
Her words twisted to mean something other than what she intended.
Her thoughts not heard or acknowledged. Did her father even listen to why she loved him like salt?
He just turned her out. To fend for herself in the world. No family. No support. No home. Just go away.
This story told me if I didn’t do things right, and how dad wanted them to be,
I would be exiled, banished. And I believed it would happen.
Or they would leave and take my older brother with them. I knew I was dependent on them
for food and a place to live. I was intensely aware of my dependency. And it was not good.
The story encapsulates how I felt in my family.
That my words were taken not as I had intended,
twisted around so I was in trouble for saying anything,
and suffering consequences I had never, in my wildest dreams
thought would be connected to what I had said.
I had been vulnerable. I had been honest. I had been gaslit.
I had been abandoned in so many ways.
Physical abuse, verbal abuse, other abuse, not heard, not validated.
And my dad, on a campaign to destroy me, bit by bit. With no stone left unturned.
Family. Toxic. Undermining. With an agenda to dismantle me, one thought at a time.
I regularly thought of being turned out for something I said, taken differently than I had intended.
The story talked of what I felt, regardless.
I was indebted to them, under obligation, duty-bound, owing a debt for my being born.
Well, I got the hell out. I got married to get out.
So I wouldn’t be disowned. Maybe being disowned would have been the better choice.
Eventually I was divorced. That was a difficult challenge.
So, the ex continued as my father had, exiling me.
Yet holding on, to feed on my energy.
Eventually I moved out of state. I would not be there for any more court dates.
The now ex was using the court system to continue to abuse me,
as my father and brother had abused me.
And my mother by not backing me up, not one iota. Not one bit.
I needed to go. And I did. Best thing I could have done for my recovery!!!
Enough separation to eventually crawl back into my own skin. It took years…
To find recovery. To grow tremendously, and amazingly.
Magnificent and wonderful changes. Immense and impossible-to-believe changes.
Herculean and unimaginable changes. Marvelous and delightful changes.
Phenomenal changes, in ways I could never have imagined!
Pretty full of wonder, this thing called recovery.
Exciting, inspiring, soul-filling.
Yep. Pinch me. This is my life! I have a life!
Lena L