Why I don’t speak to my parents

TW: discussion of physical and psychological abuse, neglect, rape, torture, and a serial killer

Today, another major media outlet is complaining about adult children cutting off their parents. The people writing such articles always avoid talking about how they parented. Instead, they contain the implication that once a child reaches adulthood, the parent still deserves a relationship with their offspring. Not because of good parenting or a strong relationship they’ve cultivated throughout their child’s upbringing. These parents often do not support their children past the age of 18, if any existed before that point.

Personally, I lived in my parents’ house until I was 21, but it came at the cost of my labor. I had 13 younger siblings living there, too. While I attended college locally, I had no time or space to study and was expected to supervise my siblings. I changed, fed, and bathed them. Along with the sibling closest in age to me, I provided countless hours of childcare for free. Beyond direct childcare, I also did housework that was never compensated, involving piles upon piles of laundry and dishes.

It was not the labor exploitation that was the problem for me. It was abuse. Both parents were physically and psychologically abusive. They used the term “spanking” to hit us with many objects including large metal spoons, wooden cutting boards, fenceposts, sticks, and pizza paddles. They threw things at us, including books, silverware and other dishes, and toys. They yelled at us and humiliated us. When I was too grown to be physically overpowered, the psychological abuse continued. In my adulthood, I was exploited financially and frequently shamed.

Our education was neglected, and they called it “homeschooling,” but I taught myself from books when I could. I got lucky among my siblings because I taught myself to read and write. Several of my siblings did not learn to read until they were in their teens. After I first spoke up about the abuse on my blog over a decade ago, most of my younger siblings were enrolled at a local charter school. They were removed from school again at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic.

My parents are still abusive, but I have learned over the years to tell only my own story. I no longer post names and specific details of things that didn’t happen to me directly. Being forced to watch while another sibling was being hit was another form of abuse for both of us, though.

When I first wrote about what was happening, I did not know how to identify myself as an individual, whole person. My entire identity was about being a Jeub. One of the first things I would say to new people was that I had 15 siblings. Today, I avoid telling anyone how many siblings I have. I don't even know how many nieces and nephews I have, much less all their names.

I am not alone among estranged adult children. If we cut off our parents, we are going against the grain of cultural expectations. Often, we have tried many different approaches to make things work. For many, estrangement is temporary or on and off. Our numbers are growing because people are becoming aware that it’s okay to acknowledge abuse and step away.

There is someone who I see as a hero for us estranged children. Her parents were abusive in her childhood and adulthood. They even tried to undermine her academic and professional career. She became a psychologist, researcher, and educator. She is successful precisely because she explored the psychological phenomena she directly observed and experienced. Her name is Dr. Jennifer Joy Freyd.

Dr. Freyd is best known for her theories of betrayal trauma, institutional betrayal, and DARVO. That last one is an acronym that stands for a common tactic abusers use to undermine their victims: Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender. I’ve referenced Dr. Freyd’s work on my blog in the past, but I’ve never gone through my notes on her excellent book. I’m going to do that today.

Dr. Freyd’s most recent book was published in 2013 and coauthored with Pamela Birrell. It’s called Blind to Betrayal: Why We Fool Ourselves We Aren’t Being Fooled.

In the early chapters, the psychologists analyze the complexity of their research question. It’s a psychological phenomenon where people cannot be aware of harm being done to them. Basically, our brains try to protect us from information that threatens us. If a parent is abusing us, we are in a double bind: do we stop trusting our parents, our only source of survival? Here is a quote from the book:

“Sometimes ignorance can preserve the relative bliss of the status quo when knowledge would inevitably lead to chaos. Ignorance is bliss when it allows you to survive.”

The book expertly weaves anecdotes with data, and it is where I first heard the story of one of Jeffrey Dahmer’s first victims. Rather than highlighting a serial killer’s actions for shock value, they use the story to point out a systemic problem in the military. Dahmer had seniority over his roommate, Billy Capshaw, when both were stationed in Germany. Al Jazeera reported the story this way:

“Billy Capshaw was 17 when he joined the Army in 1977. After being trained as a medic he was transferred to Baumholder, Germany. His roommate, Jeffrey Dahmer, by virtue of his seniority ensured that Capshaw had no formal assignment, no mail, and no pay. Having completely isolated the young medic, Dahmer regularly sexually assaulted, raped, and tortured him. Dahmer went on to become the infamous serial killer and sex offender who murdered 17 boys and men before being beaten to death by an inmate at Columbia Correction Institution in 1994.”

The book tells this story along with others of people in the military being raped and then ignored by the military when they seek support. The authors ask,

“Isn’t one kind of betrayal bad enough? Isn’t the betrayal of being raped by a fellow service member sufficiently terrible? To then have to endure lies and denial by the organization entrusted with protecting victims adds a whole new dimension of devastating betrayal.”

I share all this because the fact is that it is difficult and courageous to speak up about abuse. It goes against the narrative. We are told that authority is good. Parents are good. Seniority exists for a reason. The system is just. To say otherwise is to stand against the broad narrative. The book adds this quote:

“As Judy Herman has famously noted, ‘It is very tempting to take the side of the perpetrator. All the perpetrator asks is that the bystander do nothing. He appeals to the universal desire to see, hear and speak no evil. The victim, on the contrary, asks the bystander to share the burden of pain. The victim demands action, engagement and remembering.’”

The book goes into more detail about a lawsuit involving Dr. Freyd's parents. Her parents founded an organization for estranged parents whose children apparently lied about their abuse. They tried to get her fired from her job by sending letters to her boss. They went so far to try and ruin her life. All because she spoke up, and not very publicly at the time.

Going along with abuse is exactly what abusers demand at every turn. When we speak up, we face being victimized again when we are not believed, and our abusers face no consequences. They accuse us of lying, and make themselves the victims.

My dad wrote an entire book about how I was lying when I called him an abuser, and how that made him the victim of slander. He demonstrated DARVO precisely when he did this.

That’s why I’d like to thank Dr. Freyd for paving the way for people like me. She didn’t just acknowledge the abuse she experienced. She researched it and named it, so the rest of us can successfully identify what is happening. These are tactics from the same playbook. Abusers are similar to each other, and they want to silence us.

I won't let them speak over me, pretending they are the victims. I was abused. It is not abusive to call out abuse.