As I’ve mentioned about a thousand times before, I grew up in an alcoholic household. My dad was a former farm boy from rural North Dakota who hated his job as an engineer at Pratt & Whitney, or, as we used to call it at home, Pratt & Whiskey.
Now, I’ve got folks in my coaching practice and in my writing workshops who describe some pretty messed up childhoods. Some of them make me want to dig up my old man and thank him for being the next best thing since Mr. Brady.
But that’s beside the point.
My dad was volatile, and unpredictable, and depressive, and mean. He was a veritable time bomb in trousers. He’d walk through the front door, and you could practically hear him tick. He drank in the basement most evenings while playing his violin, then he’d storm upstairs, corner one of us in the kitchen, and rage against the man. I’m telling you, violin music still makes me twitch. My brother and I walked on eggshells when we were around him so we wouldn’t set him off. So we wouldn’t be the targets of his rage. We got really good at keeping our heads down. We got really good at looking busy and happy and compliant. We got really good at gauging other people’s emotional temperatures.
For a lot of years my mom made excuses for my dad’s threatening behavior and emotional instability. I was ten when I told my mother that she should divorce my father. That our lives were going to be destroyed because the man was an alcoholic. But my mom wouldn’t hear it. According to her, Dad wasn’t an alcoholic—because he never drank at work, and he wasn’t a skid row wino—he was “moody”.
According to her, I had no idea what I was talking about, so I best keep my opinion to myself.
Looking back know, I realize that my mother had to lie to herself because she didn’t know how to leave him. She didn’t know how to make it on her own. She had two young kids and no college education. As an engineer, my dad was a good provider, and she’d decided that, for her, that was going to have to be enough. So she hunkered down, rode through the storms, and basically pretended things were fine. Fine, fine, fine.
So, here’s what you learn when you grow up in a dysfunctional household, when you have unhealthy role models. Here are 66 of the unspoken rules you adopt without even knowing it. You might recognize them too if you’re a die-hard people-pleaser:
- Do not tell anyone what you really think or feel
- Your feelings and wants don’t matter
- Don’t tell the truth
- Don’t air dirty laundry
- Expect disappointment
- Ignore your gut
- Don’t ask for help
- Do not make people angry
- Do not get angry
- Make no demands
- Act like nothing is wrong
- Be cheerful and agreeable if you know what’s good for you
- Don’t rock the boat
- Do not confront
- Keep quiet
- Don’t trust yourself, or others
- Wait, and the storm will blow over
- Figure it out on your own
- Be perfect
- Conform
- Do not question
- Do not think
- By yourself you are nothing
- Mistakes are not an option
- Don’t make trouble
- Try harder
- When someone is upset, run and hide
- You’re better off alone
- If people really knew you, they’d hate you
- You’re unacceptable as you are
- You’re a burden
- You’re not good enough
- Words mean nothing
- You have no control
- It doesn’t matter what you do or say
- You will never survive on your own
- People will leave you alone if they feel sorry for you
- Give a tit; get a tat
- Guilt is good
- If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say it at all
- Be inconspicuous
- Be a mind reader
- Smile
- Bare your neck
- Keep your head down
- Always be on the look out for trouble
- Sacrifice yourself
- Love means never complaining
- Take one for the team
- Never relax
- Let sleeping dogs lie
- Don’t ask, don’t tell
- Do NOT stand out
- Numb out
- Keep your eyes closed
- Be what others want you to be
- Be loyal without question
- Mistakes=chaos
- Circle the wagons
- Expect trouble
- Always be gauging others
- You will never get ahead
- Invisible is good
- It’s all an act
- Look for the catch
- Better the devil you know, than the devil you don’t
No wonder I’m so freaking laid back!
