Multi generational trauma. how old is your shit?

[Anarchy]

I've been giving this a bit of thought recently.

I'm in the unusual position of having fairly good knowledge of my ancestors. Two lines have farmed within a few miles of where I live, since at least 1800, and two of my grandparents were born in the 1890s.

I've got crappy self soothing skills. Doing empty chair work in T. I was totally unable to offer comfort to my self as a child.

If both transactional analysis and attachment the theory are correct. The soothing is learned from the main care giver.

Ino a way I am angry towards my mother for being cold and distant with me. Preoccupied with being the perfect doormat for my father and desperately seeking the approval of anyone who she saw as an authority figure...

I don't think that her mother was any better. A narcissistic and cold woman. I think that my maternal grandfather chose her as his wierd because she was like his own cold, hard, narcissistic mother.

Maternal great great great grandmother was a servant girl in a big house in about the 1860s. She succumbed to the occupational hazard

She got pregnant to one of the B Liar family.:sick:

The B Liar bastard (my great great grandmother) was put in an orphanage at the diagonally opposite part of Scotland.

My female line might have been handing down shitty attachment and soothing skills before that, but,

That victorian orphanage in Scotland, is a definite point where one of my strands of multi generational crap is certain to have been present

I have seen photographs of the woman, as a tough looking (everyone in Victorian photographs looks like they're hard as nails) sturdIly built, middle aged Victorian woman, with a prominent mustache.

I've never paid to get into Atholl castle. I'm told that there's a strong resemblance between her and family portraits hanging on the walls in the castle.

I'm angry that I've got this shit

But who am I angry with? Someone who hid family embarrassment in an orphanage in the 1860s?

I've nothing against the currently living members of a parasitic scottish family

But what could my life have been like if my great great great grandmother hadn't been a more exciting shag than their great great great grandmother?

Even unto the fifth and sixth generations...

 

[Still Standing]

This is a great thread, Anarchy. Yes, I can trace abuses back in my family lines, with my mom's side of the family going back four generations, which also include mental illness.

 

[Sweetleaf]

The abuse seems to just begin with me, but I really have no idea. I don't know what to think. My father seemed upset about his past, but that seems natural considering his parents divorced, and he wound up with the one he didn't want to end up with. However, there is nothing he has ever said, or any of his family members have ever said, that seems to indicate he was ever abused. Him and his mother live together, last I heard. Both drunks. His mom has been drunk dialing my mom and my sister for years. I've been crafty enough and distant enough to never have my contact info leak to him or her.

He did have a story about my aunt being sexually assaulted by a family member at a family reunion. Isn't that pleasant? See, I don't know what to f*cking think. I hate being related to him and his family. I hate knowing that half of my f*cking genes come from a f*cking weirdo asshole f*ckface shitbag, and his family is all f*cking weirdos too. I think maybe emotional issues just run in that side of the family. Guess I know why I have so many problems myself. Ugh. That said, those problems only truly began for me -after- abuse.

My father's childhood was kind of hectic, his parents divorced and he lived all over the place, but loads of people have that happen, without becoming a f*cking weirdo who shows their kid porn regularly, and becomes a belligerent alcoholic.

Maybe that shitty family life and separation from his own father, is part of why my father was so shitty and worthless at being a father, or just simply being a parent. Nothing excuses the shit he did though.