by Anonymous
“If you judge people, you have no time to love them.” - Mother Teresa
“I’m so proud to see you becoming such a Godly young woman with a heart for the Lord.”
Those were the words uttered to me by a family member during my freshman year of high school. At the time, those words felt nice.
They validated the persona I’d worked so hard to craft of a perfect Christian, and they made me think that I was on the right track in life.
The one thing I neglected to notice was the implications behind those words. Growing up steeped in the Southern Bible Belt set up many religious and political expectations of who I should be early on. I felt like I’d failed many people (and God, apparently) in both of those arenas. What I didn’t realize as a young teenager was how quickly the pride and love that my family member expressed to me that day would eventually turn into disdain and resentment.
I was known to be a gentle and sweet child growing up, and being constantly praised for how little I resisted the current encouraged me to never step out of line.
It made me pliable, always nodding along and saving face when family members left hurtful and downright bigoted comments that unknowingly applied to me or to groups of people that I cared about.
One of my biggest regrets in life has been staying quiet when I knew things being said were wrong. I would sit silently while grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, and other family members slung around the most hateful speech I’d ever heard.
Some of their hate speech was unknowingly directed at me, and some of it wasn’t, but they would never know because I never had the strength or courage to tell them otherwise.
I was a coward for the entirety of my teenage years.
I didn’t defend myself or the communities that I care about, all to keep the peace or out of fear.
When I finally decided that I didn’t want to be a safe person to be bigoted around anymore, I saw how quickly that Godly unconditional love my family members claimed to have came with a set of terms and conditions.
Up until then, life was peaceful, and my family viewed me as the golden, clean child. I was meek, mild, sweet, gentle, book-smart, and quiet. Those have always been the words used to praise me, and I lived for them until I realized that being demure was my only appeal to my family. I served no purpose and only sparked anger in them when I became the difficult cousin, grandchild, or niece.
I was no longer the subservient girl that smiled and nodded. I made waves, I spoke my mind, and I didn’t put up with bigotry, no matter whose mouth it came from.
My entire family was shocked, and suddenly my phone was blowing up with messages from people asking me to “fix” what I had done; with angry comments on my social media posts about how wrong I was. With tangible disappointment and disdain for me.
And I’d seen it coming from a mile away. Ten miles, if we’re talking in terms of years.
I wasn’t surprised at the outcome. It validated what I had known for years as I bit my tongue while the family spoke freely of their disdain for people like me and people I loved: Most of my family members only liked me when I was small, submissive, and kept up the right mask. But they didn’t love me.
My story with estrangement, like many others, is complicated because it was caused by no single event, and it is an ongoing process.
I still speak to my family on holidays.
They still wish me a happy birthday online every year, but those sappy, nostalgic Facebook posts only praise the traits they love about who I used to be.
The posts waffle on about how I came into this world sweet, gentle, and smiling, almost wishing that I would return to the docile child that could be shamed or scared into submission with enough Bible verses and anger.
Estrangement has come with a lot of different feelings, but not the ones that I would think of when I used to hear the term. I don’t have a longing to see or reconcile with the people who have said the vilest of things in my presence.
I don’t miss what many of my relationships used to be because it was all a show to win God’s love and family’s love, both of which feel very one-sided and conditional right now. I don’t miss contorting myself into the ever-changing boxes of what a Christian, woman, and human being should be.
I don’t miss much. I don’t long for much. I don’t wish to return to the repression that has led to my current state.
I do feel guilt, though. That is the one emotion that has made itself known in abundance.
I feel guilt for numerous reasons, some of which are valid and others that have been imposed on me by others.
I feel guilt for not speaking up sooner and being a person that I hated for so long.
I feel guilt for speaking up when my family is in bad health, and the stress I’ve caused by speaking up could make their health issues worse.
I feel guilt for not wanting to reconcile an already toxic relationship when I know that I’m expected to fix it for the comfort of everyone else.
I feel guilt for not being who my family thinks I should be in the eyes of their God.
I feel guilty for being mad at them when I have failed people and am not a good person myself.
I don’t have the antidote for guilt, though. It’s left me in a spiral of both becoming more of who I want to be and spending nights hurt over thinking about who I should be.
That’s where estrangement has left me: the in-between. I’m not sure what to do with that.
I have a close family member that is the true definition of unconditional love, and she is my best friend.
Having someone who understands estrangement or feeling outcast is infinitely helpful, and we have been that for each other since we both understand not being accepted by our family.
It doesn’t take away all of the hardships that come with estrangement, but it does make it more bearable to know that I have someone backing me up during the in-between stages without strings of expectations attached.
Together Estranged is a nonprofit organization that supports and empower those estranged from family members while enhancing social understanding for the destigmatization of estrangement.
If you are estranged from a parent, grandparent, aunt/uncle, cousin, sibling or stepparent/caregiver and would like to submit your story, visit our submissions page to review our guidelines.
For more information, visit our website at https://www.togetherestranged.org
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