After my last trip to the place my family has decided to congregate—Spokane, WA—and the fallout of my visit, I knew it was time to separate my private life from my public life. My family was aware of my whereabouts because of my social media presence. They could watch everything I said or did online. I felt I had little privacy, even though we were not close. I realized, due to my audience, I was often tempted to use social media as a medium to lash out, and I decided it was time to make a change.
It was time to end their access to me via social media.
While in Spokane, I had posted some thoughts about the situation but filtered out the people I didn’t want to see it. It didn’t matter. News of the post got to the person it was about, and my inbox was flooded with messages. Someone had been relaying information. I couldn’t allow that. It was time to block the entire family.
This is not a decision one takes lightly. But after years of misery, it was time to take drastic action.
I began going through my friends list and removed everyone connected to my family. That meant cutting off all my blood relatives. I also unfriended many in-laws because (as you’ll see in time), there was a lot of drama on that side too. On Instagram, I did the same. No family—blood or in-law—is allowed to follow me there. I see Instagram as a business tool, and I don’t mix business with family. TikTok? Same thing. All my social media accounts that share my travels and life are now off-limits.
My wife received a few messages asking where I had gone. Sadly, separation is sometimes the cost of dysfunction. I realized I had spent years giving too much of myself and internalizing far too much. I had allowed my family to pile on guilt and dictate how I should live my life. Everything I did or didn’t do was critiqued. Over time, I learned that everything I said was discussed behind my back as though I were a “rotten person.” My career choices, where I lived, what I looked like, where I traveled—everything was up for debate. I got so tired of it.
My mother, who wanted nothing to do with me, was still causing mischief from behind the scenes.
Yuck!
While I was somewhat sad to block people, I was also excited. This was uncharted territory for me. I had finally snapped. I had finally had enough. The straw had broken the camel’s back! I was claiming my peace over the pleasure of patriarchs and siblings! No more would people spy on my life (except through this blog, if they choose to read it).
There is no law that says you must stay complacent in an abusive or highly dysfunctional family. The only guilt is what exists in your own mind. One day, as I did, you may come to the conclusion that guilt is preferable to the peace that comes with saying “au revoir!”
For me, this marked the beginning of a new life. On that trip to Spokane, I realized my family had never respected me. To them, I was someone to control, or worse, an embarrassment. But they still needed me to visit to appease their out-of-control egos. It’s hard to admit that your children want nothing to do with you. It’s hard to face failure. Growing up, I saw how much my mother cared about appearances.
She lived in an immaculate house where everything had to be perfectly organized. As kids, we spent hours cleaning that house. If even a single piece of paper was found on the floor, we had to start over. Her social media is the same—her image is her masterpiece. The flaw in it all is the fact that I left that whitewashed tomb!
My schoolmates used to think we lived a perfect life. We did not. A clean house does not make a happy family. My mom was—and still is—a miserable person. Living with her screaming at us and beating us when she snapped did not make for a happy home. Shortly before I left home, she admitted to “purposely mentally abusing me” to see how far she could push my buttons. Later, she confessed to doing the same thing to a man she left my father for. That man snapped and beat her senseless. He was discharged from the Navy as a result.
Not a good look!
Readers, let’s agree on one thing: Your life is far too precious to spend in substandard conditions of any kind. As an adult, you have a choice about where you spend your time and who you spend it with.
Look closely at your family’s history. Is there constant abuse? Have things truly changed? Do they change temporarily, only to revert back to how they were? Few people change for good. Many claim to have changed or believe they have—but they haven’t. Change must come from within. Change is hard, and it must be desired. Many people don’t truly want to change; they only want the benefits change brings.
Separating from family on social media was just the start. It was enough for me to realize I was doing the right thing. On that last trip to Spokane, I recognized that I had no desire to visit anymore. The idea of family as something special or beautiful had died for me.
My family “died” long ago. It died when my mother left my father for the Hawaiian man who beat her. It died when she checked out emotionally. She set the stage, and since then, the family has been dead.
When did your family “die”? Why are you holding on? Do you hope for change? Do you really believe it will happen?
What happens ten, twenty, or thirty years from now when you realize you’ve spent so much mental energy and anguish on it all?
What then?
Walk away.
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