I recently found myself in an unwelcome, yet familiar place of powerlessness and confusion due to dysfunctional relationships with my family of origin. Once again, “sick thinking” has wreaked havoc on my emotions, and I am in desperate need of an Al-anon meeting.

You see, my family of origin has a long history with domestic violence. My grandfather abused my grandmother. My dad abused my mother. And now my oldest brother and his wife are mutually abusing one another. To top it all off my youngest half sibling has chosen to be verbally and emotionally abusive by publicly disparaging all members of the family on her blogsite.

All of this anger and lack of respect is beginning to wear me out. I cannot for the life of me understand how people who claim to love each other can purposefully wound one another with vicious words and physical aggression. Anything remotely resembling violence scares the piss out of me, and I have no tolerance for individuals who use force and power to subdue others. Of course manipulation and passive aggressive behavior is just as destructive, and these are the demons I battle on a daily basis. It is not my desire to judge those who struggle to control their emotions. I simply cannot comprehend why anyone would have such utter disregard for another person’s safety and mental well being.  

In church today, a couple who had been married for over twenty five years shared their story of surviving addiction and infidelity. The wife described a scene in which she shattered two red vases from their vow renewal ceremony on the windshield of her husband’s SUV as he pulled out of their driveway. As I imagined the scene unfolding, tears welled up in my eyes, because for a split second I saw my brother and sister-in-law sitting on that stage. A glimmer of hope surfaced, and I desperately wanted God to intervene in this cycle of verbal, emotional, and physical abuse.

This couple’s honesty was refreshing, and God must have known how badly I needed to hear their message. After sitting through the first 30 minutes of the service, bitterness and resentment welled up deep inside of me as I grappled with feelings of despair concerning my inability to escape the negative affects of my alcoholic upbringing.

You see, today was also baby dedication Sunday, and if anyone near me could have read my thoughts, I’m sure they would have kicked me out of the church. I was mentally hurling every accusation I could think of at God as I questioned why select children are protected from domestic violence, and others are exposed to things they should never see or hear. It all seems incredibly unfair, and I am angry that my siblings and I continue to battle this cunning, baffling, and powerful disease that threatens to destroy another generation of our family.

Tonight I am resolved to keep seeking solutions. I need to remember that my life with Chris and the kids is safe and stable. I have chosen healthy behaviors, and I can detach with love from those who choose the disease over recovery. 99% of the battle is won in my mind, and this week I will stop rehearsing my fears and start relinquishing control to the God of my understanding.

I'm not sure I fully trust Him, but I know I need His help.