Since
I discovered my role as scapegoat, I have cried a river. Tears of relief, tears of anger, and many tears
of grief.
These
tears of grief feel like those that might come with a death following years of
hoping and fighting for recovery from illness.
I guess the death here is the death of hope for a future filled with
affirming and respectful relationships with my family, my mother in particular. Article after article on scapegoating states
that the dysfunctional family will “never see the scapegoat for who he or she
is.” Never ? And no hope for things being different in
those relationships? Is it really that
final? But I want to be seen differently
by my family and I want to have better relationships—I have prayed and tried
for better relationships with them all my life.
How can it be over?
My
whole life I have been trying to figure out what I am doing wrong so that I can
do it differently and get along better in my family. Although I have had little, if any success, I
have worked at it so hard. When I was seven, I made myself a chart to inspire
me to be better. It had boxes to check
off for a day of not being selfish, a day of not fighting, a day of “not being
bad.” I thought I could keep myself in
check with these little boxes and “be” better.
Alas, it didn’t work.
At
age eleven, I decided that my mom calling me things like selfish and ugly and telling
me that I acted like “the whole world revolved around me” was serving me well. I began to feel thankful for her
honesty. She was making me a better
person. After all, how could I be less
selfish if there was no one there to tell me how selfish I was in the first
place! I wanted to get along so badly
that I was happy to submit to getting verbally (abused) whipped into shape.
My
work toward self-improvement has become kinder, gentler, more empathetic and, I
hope, a little more enlightened in my adult years, but I have kept at it with
the belief that if I could change me, I could change my experience in my
family.
Now
I have this clarity . . . . I see that
there is a way I can change my experience. First step:
give up my voice. Second step:
sacrifice values that are at the core of my being, such as kindness, truth,
sensitivity, and respect of others. Oh.
My
watershed of understanding . . . For the
first time, I can see that this isn’t all about me—me being innately flawed and
inherently bad; and for the first time, I see the bigger picture—a picture of a
deeply broken family system that has been demanding and will continue to demand
that everyone make sacrifices for the sake of its peaceful survival. For some in my family, those sacrifices have
become easy and normal. Those family
members must at least perceive the payoff as being greater than the cost. I, on the other hand, have never succeeded at
making these sacrifices, and it simply isn’t within me to do so. I don’t think there could ever be a payoff
great enough to inspire me to give up my values to keep the peace in a broken
system. Because I will not make these
sacrifices, the system will forever blacksheep and scapegoat me. I guess . . . I am okay with that.
While
I wish these tears of mine were tears of relief that I can move on, they simply
are not. These tears are the tears of a
long battle coming to a painful end.
It
is finally time to say my goodbyes.
Goodbye
to the struggle.
Goodbye
to the illusion that being “better” was the answer.
Goodbye
to the hope for respectful and affirming relationships within my family of
origin.
It
is finished.
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