Through contemplation, self-work, and a willingness to set and stick to my goals, I have already overcome you multiple times. However, every time I overcome you, instead of slinking away, vanquished, you morph instead. You have remained linked to the root fear, that this cycle will never be broken, but you sagely switch from one facet to another, evading full decimation through your ability to evolve.

I remember the dread that things would never change and never improve, that I would be stuck forever in this emotional and psychological abuse. However, with my adulthood came a freedom to make my own choices. One of my first choices was to leave rather than continue taking abuse from my would-be-protectors.

My second choice was to seek professional help. I had a more concrete fear, one I could name to said professional. I wanted to work on ways to avoid what felt like an inevitability. I did not want to become my father, with his anger, pride, and addiction, all of which would always be more valuable to him than his family. I also did not want to marry my father, an adage that my mother had been scaring me with for longer than I could remember. Little girls always marry their fathers, she would say, and I would shudder myself to sleep at the idea that I could be so blinded or affected as to end up with a monster like Him.

So I worked through those fears. I grew, and I changed. For a time, I was convinced this fear was gone completely. I became engaged and married to a man who was kind, who had no vices harder than video games, and with no adverse anger issues that I noticed in our three years of courtship. Better yet, when we did have conflicts, he was the first to say we should see a counselor to avoid our small problems becoming insurmountable. He was willing to work on himself, too.

As years pass, I continue to work on myself. I am back in therapy due to work stress and burnout. I work on creating healthy boundaries between myself and my parents. I can only have them in my life in a way that feels safe and manageable. Now my fears are about my siblings, whom I practically raised at times. They have not had as easy of a time extricating themselves from the habits and mistakes of our parents. They have fallen into similar patterns and pitfalls. I look at my sister and see shades of our mother. She is stronger in many ways and is actively working on herself as well, but she struggles to find peace within herself and is always trying to seek affirmation from her partners. When she is stressed and lonely, she leans too heavily into her vices. She can be erratic and difficult to communicate with. I want to help her veer of this path, because we all know where it leads, but I am not sure how.
I look at my brother and hear my father in the thunderous roar of his anger. He can be irrational and prideful. He takes every comment as an attack and steps forward guns blazing, ready to defend himself. Even when the “enemy” is a loved one, even his three-year-old daughter. I see him treating his daughter the same way our father treated us and it breaks my heart. I want him to look inward and find a way to soothe his anger, but I worry he is too much like our father to ever think that the problem lies within him. To ever consider that maybe he is the one who needs help.

So I stand here on the outside, having broken free of the cycle. I watch my family still spinning in these pre-made ruts, unable to break free. Unable to see for yourselves how stuck you are. My fear is that there is nothing I can do to help you. I have offered a hand and you’ve smacked it away. I have held up mirrors and you shatter them with denials, detract with your dismissals. I ache and I stress, because not only do you suffer and wither away, but you hold my niece and nephews close, tying them to the cycle. Will you give them no other choice than to follow in your footsteps as well? Will this endless cycle of addiction and abuse be their fate?

The only way to conquer this fear is admit to myself that these choices, your choices, are ultimately out of my hands. I have to find some way to accept those things I cannot change. And learn to love you anyway, warts and all.

With much trepidation,
M. A. D.

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