Other People's Opinions

Estrangement, Social Pressure, and Expectations

So, you’ve decided to put some distance between yourself and a family member. No doubt, this was on some level excruciatingly painful. We are wired to depend on our social network and our family. We are constructed from the beliefs of our imperfect and sometimes downright terrible parents, and the messages we received as children.

But somehow, you have discovered new beliefs that point towards freedom, and you grasped so firmly on that kite-string that it buoyed you towards a new way of being, a new way of seeing yourself, and a new way of loving and being loved. All throughout your journey, those on the ground of your emotional incarceration flail and try to snatch at your clothing and shoes as you go up, up, like Mary Freaking Poppins, over the spewing chimney tops of their bad intentions and beyond the smoke of their foul influences on your soul.

And once you’ve glided far enough away to your own sunny patch of London sidewalk, you are free to lay down your carpet bag and find a new family.

Right?

Er. Sort of.

There is freedom in the flight, sure, but the same old tired opinions of others greet you as soon as you touch down.

I’m not even talking about the flying monkeys (no, I’m not mixing children’s book metaphors here, flying monkeys is a term for those recruited by a narcissist to go after a target popularized by the children of narcissist community.)

I’m talking about the so-called “innocent” people who have absolutely no skin in the game who feel as though they must chime in on your estrangement despite not knowing anything about your history. You will know them by their big mouths and platitudes (Platitudipusses?.Yes, I quite like that. ) These platitudipusses must comment on how She’s Your Mom and You’ll Regret it When They Die and Don’t You Want To Honor Thy Father? as well as lesser offenses like Well, Just Keep The Door Open and I Just Think That’s Sad.

These avenging angels from Who Asked You, Anyway? feel like it is their mission to weigh in because They Think You Might Be Making A Terrible Mistake.

The problem? Their ignorant pleas for you to do more unrewarding emotional labor would be laughable if you were not already so vulnerable from the entire estrangement process. They have a knack for sounding exactly like your inner critic. They voice the doubts that are already in your head, and cause you to second guess your choices.

What’s wrong with that, asks the Devil’s Advocate, if you are doubting your choices, doesn’t that mean they might not be the right ones?

No. I mean, maybe. But you know what? The Devil’s Advocate isn’t going to be on my/your side on this one. They advocate for the devil, remember? And in this case, the Devil is the Devil You Know, chaining you to The Best You Will Ever Do because Nobody Will Ever Love You This Much.

If you doubt your choices, talk to a therapist who is experienced in maintaining non-judgmental compassionate space for you while you decide what is best for you.

The thing about people who advocate for the devil is that they are trying to maintain their chain—er, bond—to the Devil They Know. And that? Is not a good person to be advised by.

Those with a secure attachment with their imperfect-and-possibly-slightly-dysfunctional-but-not-toxic family don’t pepper me with platitudes about how I should go back to my shitty family because “you only have one.” These folks are generally able to hold space for me, and feel sad that I didn’t receive the childhood that they did. They can see that I am worthy of love and applaud my choice to get out.

It’s the ones with the clusterfuck of red flags flapping all around them that insist you go back to a situation that hurts you. They can’t see your pain because that would mean they’d have to feel theirs.

And those are the type of people that developed an allergy to being around after I decided on family estrangement and to choose me.

Sometimes you are lucky and you find just the right people who see you deeply, and sometimes you get stuck with a dissociated, emotionally immature person who does more harm. Sometimes Mary Poppins meets Bert on the ground, other times, she’s stuck with stuffy, don’t-feed-the-birds-with-my-Tuppence Mr. Banks.

Sometimes you might need to tell the George Banks’ of the world to hush, there’s an old man about to dance on a table and he can’t be late.

Even when you’re fond of folks, it’s hard enough to do this estrangement work without having an uninformed someone who isn’t invested in your life try to change your mind.

Sometimes they refuse to stop, and then you put them in another category altogether (possibly the circular file.) You may find that you can tolerate less and less interference and judgment. I don’t even need to advise you to stay away from them, because you either already do, or you are in the process of learning it for yourself.

And unlike the Devil’s Advocate, I trust you.

I hope you do, too.