Many people believe that being categorized as an adult is having a home, car, steady income, and maybe even a flourishing romantic relationship. We strive for these mementos to show ourselves and others that we have what it takes to conquer life.

If this is the accepted adult rubric, then I’m failing miserably at being an adult. I have the status based on age, but that’s about it. I do have a home that my father willed to me. I owe property taxes though. A car? Car note and working out a way to get the brakes changed (disability is NOT enough to live on). No steady income. And well, I did have a beautiful relationship up until this weekend. After a series of unfortunate events, the love of my life is no longer speaking to me.

It was actually that last point that got me to thinking about how I ended up where I am- physically, spiritually, emotionally, and mentally. Life has thrown some serious daggers this way, my dad’s death and being diagnosed with breast cancer at age 30 seemingly being the two events that stopped my life completely. I don’t think they are though, not after the journey I’ve been on this week. Something much more foreboding has been churning beneath the surface.

As I talked more about my relationship and why it ended, I saw a pattern. It was in my previous relationship too. Being super patient, but one misstep could trigger a burst of anger and I’d lash out at my partner. It always surprised me and I worked hard not to let anything drive me to that point. I started blaming the PTSD from going through cancer treatment. That was only a symptom. The outburst of anger kept happening because I hadn’t yet discovered the root. I talked to my cousin on the phone yesterday and she painted a bigger picture for me. A portrait of a close-knit yet very guarded, scared, and highly dysfunctional family. I grew up learning how to survive (versus lovingly thriving) because my mum, aunts, and uncle had to constantly be in survivor mode living with an abusive alcoholic father. Some say don’t speak ill of the dead, but my grandfather broke my family in many ways. And that brokenness got passed down to me.

You see, I love to give love because it makes others happy, but I have a hard time believing that I am worthy of love or have the capacity to receive it. Cancer is the only reason why I even have emotions. Crying isn’t something I appreciate. Being in love? I hate it. It makes me feel weak and vulnerable and survivors can’t have any vulnerabilities or you will get taken down. Life is a battlefield and only the strong survive. Feminine heart and tendencies aren’t a thing in my world. On the few occasions that I have tried to let people in because I desperately want to experience the happiness I see others enjoying, eventually my survivor training pushes them away (cancer severely heightened this too). Survival mode tells you that you can never fully trust anyone. Everyone is a threat. How do I know? Because my mother even treats me as if I’m a threat sometimes and I’ve literally fought people to protect her. My own mother not only thinks but has accused me of harm and betrayal. I do the same thing. Not to say it has been completely unfounded. I’ve definitely come across a couple- a LOT- of people whose intent was only to bring harm. My life has been threatened on multiple occasions just because I’m alive and some are annoyed by me just existing in a space. No, for real. No exaggeration. 2 classmates told me once that before they knew me they were going to jump me just because I was walking in the hall and they didn’t like my presence. But there really are some genuine people in the world who just like you for you. Still can’t digest that though.

Anyway, throughout the course of the week I found out I distrust and severely disrespect men (they are props and have been the downfall of many strong women), have a fear of abandonment, was taught to be controlling and manipulative as survival mechanisms, was raised to be the son my parents never had, have perfectionism issues because nothing I’ve done has ever been good enough, settled on being alone because I was told not to chill with “sinners” and underachievers, and whatever else that should land me on the couch of a very expensive therapist. Which I would take up if I still had health insurance.

What does all of this have to do with becoming an adult? Well, we are taught that becoming an adult simply means obtaining things and statuses. No one tells you that part of maturing is questioning your upbringing and dealing with what wasn’t right. I always knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t ask questions because it may cost me my family. And who wants to be alone? I feel isolated now and it SUCKS. If anyone ever refers to you symbolically as an eagle (who lives alone completely except if he or she finds a mate), walk away from this person. Trust me on this one. You don’t want to be called an eagle.

This new path of discovery is already driving a wedge between my mum and I. What’s worse is she doesn’t know it. She has her own hurt so telling her how much damage she has done to me because of that hurt will only hurt her more. This is what abuse does. It takes otherwise decent people and sets them up against one another. Mum never meant to hurt me. My heart doesn’t quite get that yet, but my mind does. Her intent was to make sure I didn’t have her childhood, which was filled with loss, pain, abandonment, uncertainty, poverty, and sorrow. Knowing that it’s possible that your mum died as the eventual result of your father’s abuse is nothing a 3 year old should have to endure. But because she did, and so did my dad in his own way, I ended up losing my childhood at an early age, carrying their ghosts in my tiny soul. In some ways it has worked in my favour. In other ways it has made me difficult to live with and to love. And I didn’t know how difficult until the sweetest, most gentle man on Earth walked away because he was tired of getting his heart broken by me. The cycle of abuse strikes again.

So, if I may, I’d like to add to that “Becoming an Adult” rubric. Question everything. Ask why you do the good you do. If you know why you do those good things, then you can pass them along. Then question the bad stuff. If you understand the root of those issues, you can pull it up before you destroy others, even if it’s unintentional. Or, even worse, destroy yourself.

I guess this is my apology to the people around me. I’m sorry if I’ve ever caused damage to you because of the web of abuse in which I have been trapped. I’m coming out. It won’t be easy. It won’t be swift. I have a lot of unlearning and relearning to do. Lots of layers to pull back. But one day I will be free so don’t give up just yet. I can make this promise to you because I refuse to ever lose someone I love so deeply again because I abuse him or her.

If you are one to pray, pray for reconciliation. No one owes us a second chance, but I really would appreciate a couple of do-overs with the new knowledge I have.

Again, question everything and then take action. It’s the only way to break the cycle of abuse amongst us. Cheers to good adulting.