What to Expect When an Abusive Parent Dies

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Normal grief takes a lot of time to process, but when an abuser dies grief can become complicated and complex.

My abusive alcoholic father passed away. He was diagnosed with cancer that very quickly spread to his brain. Within a couple months he was gone.

During the months leading up to his death and in the months after, my emotions swung on a constant pendulum. One moment I would feel deep sorrow and grief at the loss of the good dad, the happy times. The very next moment I would feel numb and angry at the abuse. It was alike a switch that as soon as the tears would form, they would freeze. I could not separate the two sides of my father, and I realized I shouldn’t try to separate them. He was a generous, funny man, and he was also crude, passive aggressive and spiteful.

Every time I felt sad for the loss of my dad, I would quickly feel angry at the abuse I suffered at his hands. Until I accepted that he was all of these things, complex, and human, did I finally access the peace that comes with accepting things.

My mother could not understand my need to face and accept my father for his whole personage, including the very mean things he did to our whole family. She wanted me to let go and forgive and forget everything. To move past it. But for me, forgiveness is not an option. I choose radical acceptance instead.

Instead of Forgive and Forget, It’s Better to Radically Accept

Often times “Forgive and Forget” is used to excuse abusive behaviors and will only continue the abuse causing victim-blaming. Radical Acceptance is looking at the whole picture and validating the victim.

With radical acceptance I was able to understand my father was a deeply haunted person with his own inner demons that stemmed from unprocessed trauma and addiction. Forgiving and forgetting, in this instance would be a disservice to myself. It would have negated the painful experiences, pushing them down where they could fester into poor coping skills or come out in other unhealthy ways.

I Found Peace in Walking Away.

For me the best way to move through the grief process was to allow myself to feel both the sadness in the brief moments it occurred, and the anger/disappointment at the loss of what might have been, while accepting it could never be. My dad would not have changed no matter how much time he had left. My mom will argue and say he was different in his last moments, and I’m happy for her to have had those experiences for her own peace, but I found peace in walking away.

I couldn’t watch my dad slowly die, nor could I become the emotional support for my mother. The entire process was very triggering for me. I felt like I was being pulled into the old abusive/codependent patterns of my family. Patterns I have spent years to build strong boundaries around. When I recognized I was triggered I realized the best thing I could do was walk away.

For Me, Not Attending My Father’s Funeral Was the RIGHT Choice.

I couldn’t go to the funeral and deal with public grief. I didn’t feel like making a performance of my dad’s death, standing there pretending he was this amazing person in front of people who were so hypocritical. I decided to NOT attend my father’s funeral, a choice I feel great peace about.

The funeral was held at the church that brings up a lot of conflicting emotions for me. The people there are full of contradictions and hypocrisy. I already told myself I wouldn’t go back there. I didn’t want to see those people and be judged, nor could I even imagine trying to process the complicated emotions swirling around my father’s death while putting on a show for everyone else.

When I told my mother that I was not going, she tried to guilt me into going for her. I told her very straightforwardly that I could not be her emotional support during this, and that she had everyone who would be at the funeral supporting her. It could be noted that my mom falls on the lower end of the vulnerable narcist scale. She’s not full-blown narc, but she is very much about other people’s opinions and my not going to the funeral was, to her, a huge blow to the image she had built up of our family over the years.

I’ve become dedicated in living an authentic life, and participating in a public spectacle of grief runs counter to my own personal values. Other people might not understand, but sometimes healing looks like taking time to yourself and running counter to others expectations.

It’s also okay to not feel anything.

Sometimes when an abuser dies you feel numb. When my abusive grandfather died I felt nothing, not even a wave in my heart. I didn’t feel triggered, nor did I feel like reminiscing about him. I remember my exact thoughts were “No love loss,” and “that’s one less abusive person in the world, which means my kid is a little safer.”

Grief can appear anytime after a death. It can show up suddenly and sneakily. The best thing is to feel your feelings. Allow sadness to exist. Allow the numbness to be. Be angry if you are angry. These feelings are your body’s way of working through unprocessed trauma and processing the relationship you once had that is now gone forever.

You may feel disappointment in losing hope of change. Sometimes we hold onto the false hope that an abusive parent will suddenly become loving and caring. Their death forever locks them into the memory of who they were and destroys that lingering false hope of a better person.

If you are going through the loss of an abusive parent or loved one, know that it can be a lot. You may feel the normal variances of grief, or your grief may be as complicated as your relationship was. You may also feel nothing.

Regardless of what you feel it is safe and valid.

Blessings Be.

Align With Your Shadow Self This Blue Moon Halloween

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Halloween, especially with a Blue Moon, is a perfect time to align with your Shadow Self. To face the things hidden deep inside, and make peace with your past shame so you can unlock your truths.

Around Halloween I tend to get retrospective. I love this time. The weather starts to cool and a sense of fall is in the air. Pumpkins and skeletons decorate yards and lawns. I like to read spooky things and think about mortality. This is all part of the ancient rituals surrounding Halloween and also part of searching into the Shadow Self.

If you’ve never heard the term, Shadow Self, it’s the hidden things in your subconscious, things buried because of fear and shame. Our anger, fear, and sadness reside inside our Shadow Self.

But the shadow is not something we should be afraid of. It is as much a part of us as the light. Shame and guilt make us feel like things are worse than they are, or that we are somehow different than others. In truth we all have these traits within us to varying degrees.

For me the Shadow Self was my truth, my childhood, and my lost joy.

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I find that in times of great grief the valve connecting my conscious to this shadow self open. It is within these deep moments that suck my chest and make gulp in sobs, that I see my shadow self clearly.

I work well with visualization. When I work with my shadow self I imagine her as my inner child.

She is the person I had to leave behind when the demands of my parents, one an addict the other an enabler, forced me to behave as a miniature adult. She’s the one who I wish I could hug, and often imagine hugging in mediation to help heal so much past hurt.

She is my loneliness, my innocence, my dreamer, and the one who knew full joy.

I faced my inner shame and realized shame is not something so bad. Shame reveals a truth I wish to keep buried. Accepting shame made me realize I was queer. That realization gave me strength to make changes, no matter how hard, to become authentic.

Once I faced this shame, the grief began to surface. I started to grieve everything in my life. I grieved the childhood I lost, the mother I wished I had but will never have, the childhood pet that died, the frailly members who died, the addiction that wrecked havoc on my childhood and now my marriage. I grieved the loss of a pregnancy and ended friendships.

I had not grieved things in my past because I never had the opportunity. When my childhood pet died, I did not grieve. My mother needed me to be strong because her grief was greater, her emotions more important than my loss. When my grandparent died I held in my grief, again. My mother, who was besides herself with grief and had been the one to lose a parent needed me to be strong.

Too many times I shoved my own feelings aside to put others first.

No more.

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My inner child still needs space to mourn. She needs the space to cry. She needs the gentle acceptance that her feelings are valid, that she is not less-than because of all the pain she had buried and tried to be strong. It is her vulnerability that makes her strong because that is where her truth lies.

I get angry, but that anger tells me something about my values. I no longer burst out with rage and yell or snap. I let my anger exist in my chest, and I listen to what it is trying to tell me, what value it is worried about in the moment.

My sorrow also speaks of my values. It speaks of how much I loved. I weep because of the deep love I have lost. I am reminded that my connection to this loss meant it was important to me. The relationships that end, the expectations that are not being met, the death that took someone I loved, all speak of how much I have lived and how many things I am connected to.

It is okay to grieve the loss of things, no matter how small. It is okay to be angry with grief, to be weary.

For all the things I have grieved I still feel there is a long way to go.

I will walk into a room and remind myself, my pet is no longer here. Sometimes I say this with acceptance, it is a fact that I now live with. Sometimes this fact grips my chest and pulls deep sobs from my heart. When the tears come, I let them. I release them and cry until I feel relief. I don’t stuff them down or hold them back. I feel them and I visualize my pet. I think of what they meant to me, what they were to me, what they looked like and felt like. It hurts and I miss them, but I remember and I grieve.

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There is no shame in crying over things we have lost.

Tears bring healing. Healing brings relief. Relief leads to a full life.

I’m still doing shadow work. Trying to tap into that inner child and those hidden values and joys that I have lost connection to. I am hoping that while the veil is thin during this Halloween season, I can connect and discover more about myself. The truth is there and it is setting me free.

Blessings be.