The Perfect Life
I think many of us grew up with the misconception that a perfect family exists.
I used to come home from school and watch old reruns of Leave it to Beaver and The Brady Bunch. We never really took them seriously—in fact, we mocked them unmercifully. My friends and I would sneer, making fun of Florence Henderson’s ‘dippity-do’ hairstyle and the ‘goody-goodiness’ of the children. We ridiculed the vapidly stupid plots of both shows. When Ward would tell June, “We need to have a little talk about “The Beaver,” we would snicker, knowingly.
Sure, we knew this was television but deep down, there was a certain allure of the simple innocence of these caricatures of ideal families. I inhaled their blissful perfection. Yes, intellectually, I knew this was television and that television is scripted. I learned this from a very young age, after my mother explained there were no tiny people living in the big box in our family room. I understood acting because of my involvement in the theater, which began at a very young age.
However, I did see examples of what I believed were perfect families at many of my friends’ homes when I would go to visit after school or on the weekends. My best friend, Allison, had a strong relationship with her younger sister. I would dream that my own sister would treat me with such loving camaraderie. Moreover, of course, I blamed myself that she did not.
However, I was most envious of the father figures in many of my friend’s families. I would look on with incredulity as I saw the fathers gaze lovingly at their daughters, speaking to them with real interest and devotion. I fantasized about having such a father—and in fact, when I described my dad to people who didn’t know him, I made him sound like he was one of those fathers I yearned for. I would brag about how he spoiled me and catered to my every whim. In reality, I don’t remember my father ever telling me he loved me. I don’t recall his ever asking about my interests—other than to scoff at my lofty dreams of becoming a great stage actress. He told me that only whores became actresses. I grew up thinking I was a no-good whore; therefore, like many self-fulfilling prophecies, I became one. Here he was, molesting me on one hand and yet railing against me for being a whore on the other. It was very confusing to me, as a young child.
So, at least on some level, I did believe that the perfect family existed—and many people do. We believe it exists because we want to believe it does. Unfortunately, this ultimately colors our perception to view others in a less than realistic fashion. We end up yearning for an ideal that is impossible to attain; just as young girls view the airbrushed beauties that grace the pages of glossy magazines and convince themselves of their existence, we do the same thing. Neither is reality: perfection is simply not possible to reach.
Of course, some families are more functional than others are but no family is perfect. Years after my childhood passed, I ran into a former high school classmate who, like me, was an over-traditional college student at the same time I was. I had not known her well when I was in high school—she was far above my social class in high school. I thought she was perfect! She was a cheerleader—one of the most popular girls in school. I’d seen her family and they were one of those examples of perfection I coveted so much. What a shock it was when we compared notes at this later date; Mary Jo had also been molested by her father. I was so shocked to learn that her perfect family —- well, they hadn’t been so perfect after all.
You see, I always believed to be isolated in my misery. Just as I had shared stories with Mary Jo, the same occurred when we talked about our childhood experiences in AA and NA meetings. I was astounded that so many others shared pain from their childhoods; I had always felt that pain was mine alone. I finally gained the courage to share some of my own pain with them and as I did, I’d glance around the room and see others nodding knowingly. So many, like me, had known unspeakable pain. While our experiences differed, the underlying human emotions of pain and trauma were the same for all of us and it connected all of us on such a deep and human level. Finally sharing my pain felt good—because the burden of carrying it alone was no longer my own. I learned that a load of pain is not nearly as heavy when you have others to help you carry it.
It was also a relief to share my shame with others—I had always felt so alone in the disgrace of what happened to me as a child. I blamed myself—yes, for the things I did have control over—my addiction to heroin and my self-destructive lifestyle. However, I had also always blamed myself for things over which I had no control: my family relationships and most notably, my father’s molestation of me. In group therapy for survivors of incest and childhood sexual abuse, I was able to share that terrible burden with others who belonged to the same club as I did—the one no one wants to be a member: survivors of abuse. When we interlocked our arms in support and strength of one another, we became stronger as individuals—because it takes strength to overcome a trauma-filled life.
No, that ideal family does not exist in reality— because perfect people do not exist and realizing that has been a relief too. Early in recovery, I thought I had to be a faultless person—and this perfectionism was very hard on me. It has been a relief to realize I don’t have to be perfect. It reminds me of something an old friend once told me, “This is life, not heaven, Melinda—you don’t need to be perfect.”
And I’m not.
Peace,
Melinda
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Categories: Healing the Past,Childhood Sexual Abuse,Addiction and Recovery,Forgiveness
Tags: childhood perfection The Brady Bunch family dysfunction the perfect life sexual abuse healing Leave it to Beaver
As the son of an addict and transsexual dad, I have to say I LOVED (and related) to this blunt and beautiful post. What made it even more amazing was that it was written by someone who I now consider part of my REAL family.....and we ain't the Brady Bunch.
I wouldn't want it any other way.
I love you, baby.
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I love you too, honey--and I know that we relate on many different levels. It's one of the reasons our friendship is family--true family, where people truly love and care about one another.
Melinda
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I'm reminded of an old Sufi story, as recounted by Jack Kornfield:
One day in the marketplace Mullah Nasrudin encountered an old friend who was about to get married. The friend asked the Mullah if he had ever considered marriage. Nasrudin replied that years ago he had wanted to marry and set out to find the perfect woman. First he traveled to Damascus, where he found a perfectly gracious and beautiful woman but discovered she was lacking a spiritual side. Then his travels took him further to Isfahan, where he met a woman who was deeply spiritual yet comfortable in the world and beautiful as well, but unfortunately they did not communicate well together. “Finally in Cairo I found her,” he said, “she was the ideal woman, spiritual, gracious, and beautiful, at ease in the world, perfect in every way.” “Well,” asked the friend, “did you then marry her?” “No,” answered the Mullah, “unfortunately, she was looking for the perfect man.”
As well as the opening to the Dead Kennedys Plastic Surgery Disasters album (from memory):
You went to school where you were taught to fear and to obey, be cheerful, fit in, or someone might think you're weird. Life can be perfect. Someday I will fall in love and have a nice pleasant home of my very own. Happy and free from all pain.
It never happened...did it?
Alas, this morning, I'm so imperfect, I can't do much more than throw other people's words atcha...and now I gotta get to yoga class...
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Hahahahaha, Jay--but other people's words are so perfect here! I really enjoyed the Sufi story, in particular--and of course, how can you possibly go wrong quoting the DK's??
Thanks for stopping by, Jay--
Melinda
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I grew up in the family that "looked" perfect. Looking back, I think that might be one of the more painful secrets that I kept. Hell, it still hurts to hear people talk about my parents and how wonderful they were. It honestly makes me want to scream. It also makes me terribly envious of those other perfect family. You know, if anything, your post has helped to remind me that there is no perfect and I really needed that reminder today.
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Hey Jennifer--thanks so much for stopping by. You know, from outward appearances, my own family probably looked fairly perfect. Both my parents had/have advanced degrees, we lived in a nice place--but underneath--it was completely different.
I still need those reminders that I don't need to be perfect too. I think many of us who survived abuse as children grow up believing we need to be perfect. Or that if we had been perfect, we might not have been treated the way we were.
((((((((hugs))))))))) to you, my friend--
Melinda
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Keeping up appearances is what everyone does in life. Even the happiest person has a side that isn't shown to the outer world.
So you can say that everyone in life has several acting roles and it's not lying, but more ways to protect yourself.
I was wondering something. Do you think that people need this 'perfection' in order to have a goal in how they can life their lives? Because everyone knows that models are photoshopped, tv series are scripted, movies are with tons of special effects, still people dream of being like this and strive for it and want to be a part of it.
Maybe trying to achieve this so called perfection, keeps the society moving through life and is in itself rewarding enough?
My brains are kinda toast lately ^_^. So not sure if my train of thoughts is written out in a normal way haha.
Many thanks for sharing this wonderful post Melinda! I loved that quote of your friend. It says it all indeed.
Take care *hugs*
TJ
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Again, TJ, I am struck by how much insight and wisdom you have for your age. That's certainly true--we all don different roles at different times, depending on what situation we are in.
I do think you raise an interesting point about perfection. And as you pointed out, we all know that models are photoshopped and that families are not perfect--yet I think many of us still have this ideal in our minds. We, like those young girls looking at the models, still believe that perfection is attainable--and so we work so hard to get there. However, as we both know--appearances can *look* perfect--but they never are.
I love that quote of my friend's also--he was one very special friend to me. I still miss him (Kent--R.I.P.).
Thanks for stopping by, TJ!
Melinda
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Melinda-you mean my daughter doesn't think I'm perfect? I'm shocked. I'm never going to speak to the little ingrate again. But seriously, all these ideals we're spoonfed as kids about what we should do and feel and be are so much ammunition to make us miserable. Perfection is such an ambiguous word. There is a way in which each of us is perfect, but "trying" to be perfect isn't the way.
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Hey NP--you are about as close to perfect a person I have ever met-seriously! You are right--perfection is ambiguous--and also fairly subjective. What might be perfect to me could be very different for you.
Melinda
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Wherever you go, whatever you do, there will always, always, ALWAYS be someone who is prettier, smarter, richer, wiser...whatever floats your boat, somebody, somewhere will be better at it than you are.
Grasping and internalizing this concept gives us the truth of our imperfection. Not just for me, but for every one of us. Not only am I imperfect, so is everyone else, each in his or her own way.
I long ago learned to stop comparing myself and aspects of my life against others. I have never thought competition...especially this kind of competition...is particularly healthy, as it places achievement (often by any means and at any cost) above growth and learning. I gave up on seeking perfection many, many years ago and now simply strive to do better. Better than the last time, better than the time before that...to simply improve.
The whole idea of attaining perfection is actually a bit stressful...I mean, once you achieve perfection, what do you do for an encore?
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Hey SV--one of the wonderful benefits of getting older (for me) is getting a lot wiser. I completely agree with what you wrote--but I didn't come to this realization for a loooooong time. I think one of the things that has helped me let go of that old perfection complex has been aging--and losing that youthful beauty that once was so important to me. I have learned to appreciate aspects of myself (and others) that deeper and more real--and I have also stopped expecting perfection from both myself and others.
I loved this last line you wrote too--as this just sums it all up so beautifully:
"'the whole idea of attaining perfection is actually a bit stressful...I mean, once you achieve perfection, what do you do for an encore?"
Hahahahahahaha! What indeed!?
Thanks for stopping by--
Melinda
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I just dropped in after reading your post by subscription to say that I love you dearly - warts, and all.
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And I appreciate that, TT--(and I love you too!).
xxoo,
Melinda
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I'm sitting here fuming at your father. Whenever you write about him in a post I always feel grateful to my mother who, though passionately in love with my alcoholic father, left him when I was three weeks old because she knew she had to protect me from him.
Such a thoughtful post, Melinda, generating interesting comments from your readers (I liked Jay's the best).
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Lydia--I so wish my mother had heeded her inner voice, which I know now did warn her against my father. BUT--what is done, is done--there's no undoing the past. And my past puts me in a position to understand others better--those who need my help.
Thanks for your kind words--I do have a lot of thoughtful readers/commenters--like yourself, of course! Thanks so much for stopping by and for your support.
Melinda
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I always love reading what you have written, Melinda. I resonate to so much of your writings. I know growing up, that my family looked 'perfect' to outsiders, when it was anything but...in fact, in recovery, I started referring to us as "The Waltons from Hell". My poor mother would flinch whenever I did that, so I stopped doing it around her...it is weird...now that I am in my 50's, I see clearly how so many of my siblings have perpetuated those dysfunctional family patterns onto the next generation, and with some, the generation after...all but one of my sibs is happily floating down that river in Egypt...when I finally confronted my mother with the truth about the man she married (my father) she looked me straight in the eye and said "I don't know that that happened. I wasn't in the room at the time." This was after I had been in recovery for 16 years or so...I looked straight back at her and said "Right, Ma. I'm lying." and left the room and sobbed outside the house. It felt so weird to me that all those years I had never told her because I wanted to 'protect' her and when it all came down to it; I really didn't need to have bothered...she always protected herself so much better than I ever could have. She died 3 years ago, and I helped take care of her as she was dying and was with her when she breathed her last. In many ways, she was a good mother,but in others, she was unable to show up. Both of my parents were alcoholics...functional ones...in my family, you have a problem if you can't hold your liquor...and we all drank (some still do drink) prodigiously. Anyhow, I pretty much have made my peace with all this...at least I hope so...weird, I tried to be a much better parent than those I was given (or chose: who knows?) and yet I did feel a level of devotion to them. My own kids, on the other hand, well...that's another story...I guess the bottom line is I gave better than I got, and I did the best I could...I kept them safe...or as safe as I could given the court system in California...I could (and did) leave the other parent when he was abusive to them, but 25 to 30 years ago, the California courts felt that it was more important for kid to see both parents than to actually protect them...at least that is how it seemed to me...anyhow...it is very weird to me that the man who was so cruel to my 2 eldest children when they were small is now the parent to whom they are devoted today...weird world...sorry...I honestly did not mean to go on at such length...anyhow, it is always good to read one of your posts, Melinda...
Love,
Trish
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Tricia,
Hahahahahahaha! I really laughed at your "Waltons from Hell" comment--and boy do I relate to that!
Now, on to more serious matters: You are right--very often, people do perpetuate what theylearn from their parents and pass that along to their own children--although if people have insight and good perception about their family's dysfunction, I think they can overcome that and stop the cycle of dysfunction--but it sure isn't easy, is it?
Your mother's denial made me so angry. I am so grateful that my own mother finally was able to face the fact that her husband (my father) was my abuser and tormentor for so many years.
It sounds as though you have forgiven her, Tricia--and that is an important step. It's taken me a long time to get over the anger I had at my mother and to finally be able to forgive her. I realize now that this forgiveness has been very central to my own healing.
You are my sister in so many ways, Tricia--here's a special big ((((((((hug))))))) for you.
Melinda
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Dear Melinda
you are so right. There is no one whom we can call as a perfect human. Everyone has one or other form of imperfection. The only thing matters is the level of imperfection.
Well... as far as my childhood is concerned I would like to say,"Broken Toys and Lost Pencils were far better than Broken Hearts and Lost Friends".
Take care
Harneet
P.S.
These days I am not able to comment on your blog regularly, for that I am very sorry. Actually I am busy with my teaching profession. But I remember you very often.
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Harneet! My friend! Long time, no see and it is so good to see you! It's wonderful that you are so busy teaching that you are unable to stop by. I am so happy to hear that things are going well for you.
Take care, my friend--
Melinda
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People try to keep up appearances when in fact many families are far from perfect. Many of the families that try the hardest to appear normal are the most dysfunctional.
For me, I just try to do the best I can as a father and husband and person. We're all human so we're far from perfect.
Thanks for sharing Melinda.
Happy Valentine's Day.
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Happy Valentine's Day to you also my friend. I think those that recognize their imperfections but just strive to do the best they can--well, they usually do pretty well in most areas of life.
Thanks for stopping by--
Melinda
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I used to think that there lived a perfect family in my neighbourhood until I heard about the suicide of one of their family members.
Your words: "some families are more functional than others are but no family is perfect" seem to be perfect on this topic. I liked the comments of
"One of The Guys" as well.
Best Wishes
Ibn Hanif
(I not only wrote this comment, but I also entered the security code perfectly, this time it was 72070)
Best Wishes
Ibn Hanif
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Hey Ibn Hanif!
Thank you, my friend, for stopping by--
Melinda
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Melinda, just directing your attention to my latest post about an actor in my family that I thought you might enjoy.
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Thanks, Lydia! Let me come up from being buried in grading to go check out your post! I hope all my readers will also check it out.
Melinda
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