It’s hard to be around family sometimes

And it can often impact on our own internal wellbeing. I have found myself becoming increasingly sensitive to the generational negativity inherent within my own family dynamic.

During a six-month period from September 2020 through to March 2021, we brothers and sisters got together to nurse our mum through terminal cancer, taking turns to do the nights and days and getting progressively more exhausted. For me, it raised all the old issues of not being respected, of being underestimated. Of having no feeling of security among them.

I am the youngest of six, and due to what happened to me as a child, I have always been treated as if I am not capable or responsible for making my own decisions.

Because of the work we achieve through RTT, what tends to happen is that you find yourself really managing to zero in on external causes for your internal unease. It’s a capability that grows through the process. And you have mini revelations along the way, even years after.

What I realised recently is that my first and base belief is that each of my family members is beautiful/handsome, talented and capable enough of doing anything they want to, and that secondly, I am surprised and shocked to discover when they can’t. Conversely, their first thought is to assume I cannot achieve much of anything unaided, that my ideas of being a writer are wild, and/or embarrassing and not to be mentioned, even to me, god forbid I should offer to send my sister a copy, and that my decisions about my life need to be questioned.

(By the way, I am no good at grammar and make no apology for it. If I have the time, I run it through a checker! I am a writer not an English graduate.)

So basically there is surprise, consternation and judgement when I do achieve anything or butt up against their narrow preconceptions of me.

Dying always highlights familial difficulties

Due to some things that happened while mum was dying, I began to feel increasingly marginalised within the family, due to the fact my opinion was not considered valid. Issues around my trying to fulfil my mum’s final requests, problems occurring because mum, quite bluntly, repeatedly made it clear she valued my company and care, all created an environment that was toxic for me and often, indeed, I felt uncomfortable visiting my mum when it was not my turn to be administering her care. Picture turning up to a locked door and having someone tut at you! I didn’t even know tutting was still a thing!

The reason mum felt more comfortable with me? Because other than fulfilling her physical needs, I didn’t treat her like a child. I didn’t treat her like she was incapable. I empowered her. I didn’t dictate what she did and when, and I indulged her in all the companionable things she was capable of doing; watching movies, having a drink together, eating fish and chips I didn’t particularly want, keeping her spirits up. This meant she could forget for long spells what was happening.

My sisters focused on the worry, (their worry) on the, ‘you must eat something’ ‘you must have a nap now’. The constant double-checking, ‘am I doing this right’ ‘is this ok?’ when they had done the same thing 50 times. The overt concern made mum feel irritable, like a patient, less than who she was; reminding her she was in a weakened state, that she was dying. It’s simple logic why she liked having me around. I didn’t do anything special in that sense. She was my mum, she had always been in charge, and I was not her nurse, I was her youngest daughter.

Be a friend first

Mum and I laughed at the indignities, found the humour in it as we always had. We often laughed while I was supporting all her weight to swing her onto the commode, her misbehaving bowel predictably tooting me with gas, while my face had nowhere else to be but right there. I have memorites of her collapsing on my back, full weight, with the unrelenting giggles. She’d had to dispense quite quickly with her sense of modesty, so that by the time we were having a conversation while I waited for the enema I had administered to take effect, her legs in the air and me waiting patiently, it seemed no more extraordinary than if it was a bus I was expecting. She felt safe with me and a lack of someone questioning her autonomy, a lack of impending doom.

One of my last memories of mum was of us watching a movie together, me in a chair next to her bed, leaning over to share the view of the screen on her iPad. She began crying in the end credits, and when I asked what was wrong she said, ‘I just forgot while we were watching the film that I was dying. It just seemed like the same as always.’ And that was the only gift I had to give her, and even though it broke my heart, I was also very proud of myself, because a few short years earlier, my emotional health would not have allowed me to survive this.

As things progressed, I became increasingly at odds with the majority of my siblings, other than my oldest brother who looked after me beautifully. It felt like some of them resented that Mum and I could find joy in the moment. Leaving me with no-one else to confide in about how I was coping. If I showed weakness, expressed that I wasn’t happy with what someone else was doing, it felt like I was judged. A certain look in the eyes where you can read the thoughts and glint of satisfaction behind it. The, ‘oh, that’s what you think, is it?’ Hence, I did not share; wherever possible, I began to distance.

One of my sisters, forced to call me after mum wouldn’t deal with anyone else, was surprised to discover how naturally and easily I could wash mum without fuss and embarrassment; creaming her skin, her breasts and bottom. And that mum accepted me doing it when she was actually feeling furious at what was happening to her. But what was my choice? To remain calm, stick to the routine and hope that she came round a bit. And eventually, through just simple resilience and patience, getting her to accept eating something.

But why was my sister surprised? Because she was putting her insecurities on me. And because she completely underestimated my capabilities. All those years I spent quiet allowed them to believe I had little to contribute.

Those little hurtful things

Another of my sister’s dusted my dog from her jeans any time he dared to brush past her. He’s small, doesn’t shed, and was 12 years old and had to come with me or be left alone for long periods. Any dog owner will tell you what a red flag the unnecessary dust-off is! And I think she did it because she had her own issues with me, and knew the only way she had of effectively hurting me was through my dog. But it felt petty, very hurtful and unnecessary.

Since the funeral, I have remained distant from most of the family, to preserve my own boundaries. Because I am healing, not just from mum’s death, but from my life, and because it seems every time I connect with them, my body reacts.

I have been in the process of moving to Scotland for a year. A long, highly epic saga with a useless estate agent, my buyer losing her buyer, a long, long story. But with the possibility looming again, and with my property almost completed, I received a text message from the younger of my brothers, who is in Panama, waiting to sail a yacht back to Scotland via the British Virgin Islands. This same brother who went on a course to learn yachting (or whatever the correct term) that took him to the other side of the world for months. The same brother who went to Australia on his own in his twenties, fruit-picking and the like in the middle of rural Queensland, creating a family along the way. The same brother who himself uprooted his life from England to Scotland.

Him. ‘Still looking in Scotland? It’s a long way away…’

My response, back already prickling, ‘Well, you managed to move there so I’m sure it’s not outside of my capabilities. Writing and therapy are what I will be doing.’

Him. ‘I moved with wife and kids for company. But we have to do things that scare us sometimes. Just make sure it makes sense for you. PS when you get up and running, I recommend a private pension as it’s a great way to avoid tax. I would also look at the government site to see what you will be entitled to when you retire. It’s closer than you think.’

Me, ‘I’m on my own anyway. Doesn’t matter where I will be. Will bear the rest in mind, thank you,’ (begrudging kiss).

Him. ‘The family will always be there to help.’ (patronising, head-patting kisses)

What the hell?!

Now I know this is well meant, that his little sister needs or desires his guidance in his opinion, but here’s the rub. I am a grown-ass woman of 48 years old who has been through more shit than he can imagine. And any real progress I made to heal myself was done entirely on my own. None of my siblings ever spoke to me about what was going on at the time in my childhood or asked how I was doing or what I needed. They were silent. All 5 of them.

And in that short exchange, he unwittingly managed to convey that I needed to fear my goals, that I was potentially not in my right mind by making this decision for myself, that I was shortly fit to be put on the scrap-heap, that I wouldn’t have family close by ‘to support me’ (also known as being judged and found wanting).

This is the same brother that when I told him of my plans, as an author, to have a website, told me I didn’t need one. Do you know of a successful author that doesn’t have one? He also questioned how I was going to manage for money. Another instance of killing my perspective and dreams within a 60 second conversation.

He gets to live his life unquestioned, unregulated, with an element of danger and insecurity, but I don’t?

Those are his fears, his negativity, gifted to me and not for the first time. And like a sucker, it fu**** up the rest of my day and made me angry because I was allowing this to f*** up my day. And with my RTT skills tapping me, reminding me exactly why I shouldn’t let someone else’s negativity f*** up my day!!

But sometimes we just have to feel it, let the rage and misplaced, well-meaning insensitivity wash over us; examine the details, and allow a night’s sleep to purge us. Love people very much and wish them well anyway, even when we can’t be around them.

Be kind to yourself when others can’t seem to be

Healing from my childhood is an ongoing process, and in time I would prefer to be on better terms with my immediate family, but for now, I am giving myself permission to keep my distance from the majority, because every time I have connection of a sort, something like this is served that questions my capabilities, or I hear of something being said about me, and it really makes me angry. Because I do not question them, or their right to do or be or live wherever or however they want to. I just want them to be happy.

A small dark-haired girl in a forest, facing into the fading sunlight.

Quite simply, I feel the need to recover from them, and I am allowing that to be the status quo until it isn’t. And I feel ok with that. I am growing.

I would hate for any of them to have lived an unfulfilled life. If they said they were going on the next flight to the moon, I would say that’s incredible, amazing. I’m really excited for you. And I would know they could do it. But their preference for me is to keep me small, unpick my perspicacity behind my back, to their children even, so they too can judge me and find me wanting. Believe me unreliable, incapable, erratic, away with the fairies.

What I am is awesome. A survivor. What I am is strong and resilient for exactly the same reasons that they use to underestimate me. So going forward, if you want a place in my life, don’t ever dare insinuate I am less. Because I will not tolerate it anymore. I have my voice and I will use it. Sometimes I use it so much it scares me!

I will never forget the day I stormed out of my mum’s house, having told that particular brother to ‘go f*** himself.’ Because he would not allow me to follow through on mum’s wishes. (There are certain dying wishes of mum’s that the hierarchy have still not fulfilled)

I would have never dreamed in a million years that I would use that language with a sibling. It’s not even a phrase I have ever used. And I love that brother dearly, I just don’t feel like I understand him anymore. And that hurts too. But it also made me laugh in shock at myself. Go me!

The freedom of RTT

It would seem I’m not in awe of any individual these days, related or not. I am free of that. That is the gift of RTT. I can see peoples’ wounds as clear as I see my own, and I can see when they are angry that it’s stemming from decades of hurt and misunderstanding. But people may not like what I have to say. Because I am more honest and more free to express the truth of what happened to me. (There may still be a little rage happening?? What do you think??!!)

My reminder to you all today is to own your own power, be willing to make mistakes if it’s something you want; that you feel is right inside your body. There is no such thing as a mistake anyway. Don’t feel someone else’s fear. And do feel the rage if you need to, but don’t give it more than a few hours; it doesn’t feel good when it’s extended. Do something that shifts your energy after that. And remember, you don’t always have to apologise. Sometimes your reaction is well justified. Own it. Stand by it. Be proud of it.

Remember, your journey is yours and you give yourself permission, no-one else. I support your dreams, goals and aspirations and I know you can achieve all of them, because that’s what I do. I believe in you x (most sincere kiss)

About Me

Hello, I’m Anne-Marie. I am a RTT Practitioner, Romance Author, Championship Dog Show Judge.

I have a lot going on! But my primary focus is helping people achieve their personal and professional goals, whatever they may be. If you’re struggling, I am the kind of person you want in your corner.

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Protecting Your Boundaries

It’s hard to be around family sometimes