advertisement
Abusive Family

Enmeshed Emotional Covert Incest: Boundaries Just Don’t Exist

"I bet you didn't have any boundaries," my friend said the other day.

"Boundaries? What are those?" I responded, sarcastically.

But it's true. If you are The Beloved Child of an enmeshed, emotionally incestuous parent (EEIP for short....not to be confused with ROUSs), boundaries simply don't exist. Ever. There isn't even a millimeter thick membrane protecting any facet of your human existence from your EEIP(s) invading.



Emotional

Enmeshed Emotional Incest: The “Innocent” Abuser and “Grateful” Abusee

Like a flash of lightening, it struck me this week that enmeshed emotional (non-physical) incest between a loving parent and their adored child may be the only abuse where the parent can say honestly, from their heart, so-help-them-God that they did not know they were abusing their child. I can say from experience that the child can honestly say that they did not know they were being abused.

But they did. And they were...regardless of whether they knew it or not. And it sucks.



Adrenaline

Are You Addicted to Drama, Drama, Drama?

There are certain days that are ingrained in your memory. This was one of those days. A day in which I had two flashes of realization.

Vividly I recall sitting on my bedroom floor, holding my face in my hands. Listening, waiting, almost longing for the relief when the inevitable bellow of rage exploded from my parents' bedroom. On the one hand, it would be horrible. On the other hand, the excruciating expectation of the inevitable horribleness was worse than actually hearing the tantrum, the furniture pounding, the swearing, shouting and door slamming.

I was sixteen years old. That was the day I realized two important things: 1) I have PTSD and 2) I'm addicted to drama, drama, drama.



Anger

Hello Stress, Goodbye Recovery

This article is brought to you by the letters "S," "C" and "R." It's coming to you late because along with Stress comes the inability to Concentrate. And when Stress rears its ugly head, Recovery packs up its old kit bag and smiles, smiles, smiles as it jumps a freight to all points West.