Who Said There's Fun in Dysfunctional?
Overcoming a dysfunctional family dynamic can be challenging.
I recently read an article about how to tell if you grew up in a dysfunctional family. I didn’t need to read it to know I did but it made for a fascinating read. The article had several bullet points; I checked off most of them.
Here’s the rub: I think most people come from a dysfunctional family in one way or another. We are living in an age of high divorce rates, separation of family, and family dynamics that have never been seen before. Family members die, move away, or leave without a second thought of who they’ve left behind. This is a difficult situation for everyone involved, including young children.
Let me say that my parents were (are) good people. As children, they gave me and my siblings everything we ever wanted. To say we were spoiled is putting it nicely. My father was a hard-working man who ensured we always had everything we wanted and needed. My mother was the traditional stay-at-home mom who cooked good meals, kept a spotless home, and ensured we did well in school and with our responsibilities at home.
My father came home tired and didn’t take part in helping us with homework, but he played ball with us and helped us decorate outside for Christmas. One of my favorite childhood memories is my dad pulling me on the sled down our snow-covered street. When one of us got into trouble, my mom would say, “Wait until your father gets home!” He would give us “the look” and we’d never misbehave again, at least not until the next day. On the other hand, my mother was a strict disciplinarian who wasn’t afraid to smack us, with her hands, a wooden spoon, or the Italian babysitter, Ms. Fanny Wacker. I was a good kid for the most part, but I had a smart mouth. That was my mother’s bone of contention with me. I’ve gotten soap in my mouth (channeling my inner Ralphie Parker!) but my mother seemed to enjoy giving me a few good smacks. She would tell me to go to my room which never bothered me because I loved being in my room anyway. She would take my teen magazines away to torture me. That meant no Shaun Cassidy. I truly wanted to die.
I had problems at school that I never told my parents about. I was too embarrassed and scared. I was an excellent student so that wasn’t the issue. I couldn’t talk to either one of them. I didn’t feel that intimacy with them. My dad, being a man, wouldn’t get it. My mother was not very warm, and I didn’t feel I could talk to her either. I knew my parents loved and cared about me, but they never said it and in my young, broken way, I thought they didn’t care or love me, that they took care of me because it was their job to. I grew up with a screwed-up view of myself. Some of what I went through caused me to struggle with depression and a suicide attempt. Even then, my parents thought I was trying to kill myself to get attention. They never took me to a doctor or to get treatment. That they didn’t know what was happening to me was my fault for not telling them. That I could not tell them was their fault.
Don’t get me wrong. I have many wonderful memories of my childhood. We took so many fun trips together. I remember once when they took us to Seaside Heights in New Jersey. Dad won a lot of prizes that day and every time he won, he got a free watermelon. He had so many watermelons he started to give them away to strangers on the boardwalk. One time he waited over four hours with me to go on the Log Flume at Six Flags Great Adventure. We always had everyone at our house for the holidays and summer barbecues. There were always a lot of people at our home. People loved my dad’s humor and my mom’s cooking. On the outside, it seemed like we were a normal, loving family. We were still dysfunctional and became more so as we got older.
I’ve made many friends online and they have some dysfunction in their family dynamic. Whether it’s with their birth family or the family they married into, they deal with a prodigal child, an addiction, a wayward spouse, and other situations. No one is perfect. No person and no family are perfect. We all come to the table with different personalities, values, and idiosyncrasies. I believe the key to overcoming the challenges of dysfunction is to love and accept one another for how we are made. We can’t change anyone. We can only change ourselves. If the situation is so bad that it becomes dangerous, we must remove ourselves from it. If it is intolerable because of toxicity and drama, we must remove ourselves from that too. It doesn’t mean you stop loving the person. It means you love yourself enough to not put up with it anymore.
I’m no psychiatrist or expert. I do know what living in a dysfunctional family looks like. I still love my family though I have not spoken to them in years. I pray for them every day and wish them well. Sometimes the best thing you can do is forgive and forget, for your sanity and well-being.
Dysfunctional families can be filled with abuse, drama, addiction, pain, and sometimes, humor. Again, most people are dealing with some dysfunction these days. It’s another challenge of living in these tumultuous times.