Taking a break from Toxic Family

TAKING A BREAK FROM TOXIC

WORDS BY EMILY RZEZNICKI

Growing up, I was led to believe in various life lessons, some of which were presented as near absolutes of life. This poses an obvious contradiction, as I have come to understand that in life, there are rarely absolutes. Nevertheless, those who guide us when we are young present those old adages with a level of certainty that is hard to argue with. For me, the most repeated was an assumption of the dependability that family would be present in my life, that they would always be there with love and unconditional support. The unfortunate truth is that this is not always reality. In fact, the people who are supposed to never harm you can hurt you the most. This difficult truth came to me at an early age, forcing me to grow up faster and harsher and conclude above all that I needed to learn to depend on myself before I could depend on others.

There is much that is out of our control as children and teenagers, but as adults learning to navigate our newfound independence and adaptability, we discover new freedoms. One of these freedoms is the ability to wholly dictate the life we want and the relationships that we wish to keep or let go of. We can absolutely choose our family. When those we should be able to depend on continually fail us with patterns of neglect or abuse, we do not need to endure it simply because we share a titular bond.

My mom died in March 2018 from a particularly aggressive brain tumor. My world collapsed. Her death, in conjunction with my experience of being her primary caregiver while navigating the rest of my family’s needs and wants despite them providing me with little support, was the final catalyst to making the decision to walk away from my dad and sister and to create boundaries and distance with my extended family. I had reached a point where I looked at who I had left as family, who would be there as I learned to live without my mom, and decided, based on my painful history with them, that they were not good enough and I deserved better. My experience is unique to me; we all have our own breaking points, and I don’t pretend to make my experience universal. However, that breaking point is a common thread repeated by many: the moment we realize that our family is toxic and unhealthy for our existence. That we have repeated the same cycle of pain and one-sided forgiveness without reaching substantial growth or change. And that the only reason we have endured this unnecessary pattern is because the people perpetuating it are our family.

Living with the decision to cut out certain family members from my life, I learned a few things, and for any of you reading this, I implore you to consider them as you move forward with your own decision.

1. The decision to cut ties with family or create boundaries with them does not need to be cemented forever. We cannot say what our lives will look like as we move forward, so how can we state with certainty that the chance to repair damage with family will never come? We can’t know if walking away now will have to be sustained forever. That would be putting unrealistic pressure on ourselves. Instead, allow yourself to set the boundaries you feel you need now and re-evaluate your decision or degree of distance as you go. There is no limit to how many times you can reflect. 2. If you have decided to walk away from family members but occasionally want to talk to them or gauge their stance towards your decision, that is okay. We should not make ourselves feel guilty for not staying 100 percent away all the time. You are not betraying your decision or showing weakness if you feel you want to check in. It will allow you to decide what to do moving forward. If nothing has changed on their end, then stay the course. If something has changed for the better, allow for adjustment.

3. Ask yourself questions, such as, what do I need from them to begin to mend the relationship? What am I willing to negotiate on and what am I not? Am I letting my pain and anger turn into stubbornness or am I still healing? Is there a new way I can express my feelings that I have not effectively articulated before? Asking ourselves questions allows for evolving reflection. It allows us to reach new conclusions that may require new strategies, or it can help us see valid justifications and feel secure in our decisions.

Family is a privilege, not a right. We are born into titles not of our choosing, be it daughter, sister, or son. But the title of “family,” in my opinion, is one that needs to be earned, and family is defined by much more substantial, tangible elements than simply blood. Family is trust, appreciation, celebration, and respect. All of which are created through supportive actions and words. If we are not receiving that from family, then it is time for change and for us to seek better.

Generational Healing and the Path Forward

WORDS BY LAUREN MACKAY

In the deep fissures of our current social structures, we can see that work needs to be done. It’s tempting to turn our attention to public spaces—and for some, that truly is the right choice. However, if you aren’t already working in quite the way you’d like to, or if you’re unsure of how you’d like to serve at this time, perhaps turning inward could be a significant offering. Self-reflection and healing are great beginnings for those seeking to contribute to the greater good. “When we understand trauma, and our own personal trauma, specifically, it’s easier to move from a place of compassion, for ourselves and others. We can avoid perpetuating violence,” says Ernestina Malheiro, an Alberta-based instructional designer.

Malheiro is among the growing segment entrepreneurs who understand why they do the work that they do and why it is essential to enact their social values in doing so. She created her business, Uplift Learning, in response to the gaps in Canada’s mental health support system. Rooted in compassion, self-discovery, and personal responsibility, Uplift is a bridge for organizations and individuals looking to deliver online educational material on a wide variety of subjects.

Clients approach Malheiro in large part because she is passionate about current best practices in cultural competency, trauma-informed care, and mental health. What they may not know is how her personal experience has informed her expertise. Malheiro was born in Portugal, a country still struggling in part with the weight of its colonial history and the legacy of an oppressive government that existed until the mid-1970s. To someone who was born in, say, 1998, perhaps that seems like a long time ago. But if a generation is 25 years, we are not even two generations removed. “The Portugal my grandparents and parents grew up in was highly oppressive. My grandmother was illiterate. When she was 8, her mother died. As the oldest, she was tasked with caring for the three younger siblings. Her dad died when she was 13; she never returned to school. My parents didn’t have access to school in the way they should have, either. It took me many years, many years of challenging the core belief that I wasn’t capable or good enough to do it, but I earned an MA in learning and technology in 2018. This lack of belief in myself is the legacy of the fascist system my family left. From illiteracy to a master’s in two generations. I wasn’t necessarily conscious of why I chose the path I did, but, looking back, I don’t think it’s a mistake that I do what I do. My work is very much a reaction to an absence of human rights, both for my family and for the people I work to support now.”

Like many of our generation, Malheiro is focused on healing. She’s traced the threads of difficulty in the choices and circumstances her family has lived through and has examined them without judgment. “This isn’t the whole picture, either. When my parents moved us to Canada, we left behind an attachment culture. Instead of some of my cousins in Portugal, who moved to the city to go to university and then moved back home to be with their families when they were done, I pursued my career, because I was now living in the individualistic culture of Canada. I have been given a huge privilege. But what I lost in that transition was what happens when generations of the same family live on the same land: the deep knowing and living that happens from that. My grandparents were farmers and tailors, they were makers. We share that spirit of being able to take risks and push the envelope a bit, but they knew how to survive, to live off the land. I don’t have those skills. That connection, at least in that way, has been severed.”

Perhaps it is this sensitivity to the absence of human rights and the lack of daily connection to her ancestral land that led Malheiro to her relationships with Duane Good Striker and Joe and Kathy Kipp. With them, she has learned much about the Blackfoot and Blackfeet (in Montana) tradition over the past decade and a half. In our interview, Malheiro is quick to note that she is “náápiikoan,” a white person, and that while her understanding may be more expanded than your average white person, it is not the same as an Indigenous perspective or experience. “I still come up against colonialism in my own mind,” she says, “This is part of my work.” While Malheiro’s work often involves using her considerable insight to help clients deliver transformative educational materials, it also often involves gathering in a community to learn and share. In the Blackfoot and Blackfeet tradition, community members travel to different regions at different times of year. Seasonal gathering is both practical and ceremonial. But, in the midst of a global pandemic, community ceremony has all but ceased. “On one level, it is the loss of movement and the inability to see each other that we are grieving. The border between Canada and the United States is closed. Modern day maps have nothing to do with the sacred, and yet, it’s there. As much it is difficult not to go to my ceremonial family this year, it is important that we isolate. It is important that the elders are protected. If they were to die, we would lose so much. Too much.”

Malheiro’s ecological perspective and reinforcing practices offer hope as we move through such difficult times. Her commitment to infusing educational practices with care and healing is deeply needed. “I hope we are finally able to learn through this that there isn’t one correct perspective. We need to learn to see the value in all life. If we move from a place of compassion for each other, for ourselves, for the land, I believe this is possible. If we can heal the trauma of our past, we are free to move forward and do the work of the future.” Indeed, it is a weaving of both the old and new that will lead us to co-create a new story.