*trigger warning*
In the following post, I explore intergenerational cycles of abuse.
I’m a survivor of child abuse.
Writing those words feels uncomfortable, because I don’t want anyone to take what I’m about to write about and apply it to other people in my paternal family. I don’t know their experiences, and I have no right to give voice to their experiences. I can only speak to mine with any certainty, and I am going to focus my attention directly on what I lived.
At the same time, I want to make very clear that I am talking about intergenerational trauma experienced through my paternal line. The thought that anyone would think my mom or maternal grandma hurt me in any way is personally devastating. These are the women who gave me strength and taught me to survive. They didn’t know I experienced child abuse, and I learned to disassociate to keep my life with my mother distinctly separate from visits to my dad’s home. Disassociation is a common response to traumatic events.
My mom isn’t perfect – no parent is – but she didn’t abuse or neglect me. In fact, she had the joy of putting up with all of my trauma responses without knowing they were trauma responses and having absolutely zero resources to know or understand what the Hell was happening.
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Writing for Social Work Today, Sue Coyle provides a simple and clear definition of intergenerational trauma: “Intergenerational trauma affects one family. While each generation of that family may experience its own form of trauma, the first experience can be traced back decades.” Although there are innumerable traumas, the CDC is a great place to begin exploring what childhood trauma sometimes looks like and how it impacts health outcomes (and educational, economical, etc) in adults. This childhood traumas are largely known as “Adverse Childhood Experiences.”
I could write forever about trauma, but that’s not my goal today. If you’re interested in learning more about topics like intergenerational trauma and Adverse Childhood Experiences, I’ll include a few resources at the bottom of this post. I will also share some resources on historic and cultural trauma.
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You may find yourself wondering … Isn’t this a blog about genealogy? Why is this woman writing about trauma?
Family violence is often swept under the rug, ignored, and victims remain silent. Silence allows violence to continue, and I’ve spent my entire adult life breaking that silence. That silence permeates our family histories, becoming skeletons in our proverbial closets, and it allows these cycles to continue.
Combining oral history and primary documents, I can trace generational trauma in my family back at least 100 years. That is five generations of people: five generations of pain, struggle, and – maybe – resiliency. I’d lay money on it going back even farther, but I don’t have the oral history or records to prove it.
As a child, I didn’t realize I experienced “abuse.” It was simply another way of living, one that I didn’t like.
Maiden Name Unknown 