Abandonment: Issues from My Youth

Abandonment: the action or fact of abandoning or being abandoned

Abandonment fears typically stem from childhood loss, such as the loss of a parent through death or divorce, but they can also result from inadequate physical or emotional care. These early-childhood experiences can lead to a fear of being abandoned by the significant people in one's adult life.

An unexpected decision

Brings powerful thoughts

And emotions

Near the surface of my sleeves

Do I speak

Of the fears and anxieties

Nimbly crawling

Meticulously gnawing

Endlessly

Nervously

Throughout my skull

Family is a peculiar unit. Does this consist of only those whom are of your genetics? (i.e. blood relations- Father, Mother, and siblings). Or does this term extend to those who care for you most? Many of us stand at odds with those we are born to, and as a result we adopt the term, or are defined as “Black Sheep” by others. These abnormal, abstract, outcast, outliers are the focus of my attention as I struggle with my volatile emotions.

I was born to a family who lived in Magna, Utah. Their chosen religion, and the religion of their parents is the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (e.g. “Mormons”). For those of you who are not from this state, or are not familiar with the religion, it is a peculiar one with around 13 million members worldwide; and no they do not have multiple wives- the LDS Church outlawed the practice in 1890. This religion preaches moderation in all things, and abstinence of many things.

The religion teaches their congregation to refrain from the use of drugs, alcohol (which is a drug, and to this day I always wonder why I have to list both), sex before marriage, no hot drinks (tea, coffee, and similar drinks), vulgar/profane language, obedience of the ten commandments, among many other things. As you can already tell the many restrictions and prohibitions imposed upon the followers of this faith can be difficult for a curious mind to follow; I have an extraordinarily curious mind.

After many years of exposure to people whose lifestyles and ideas differed greatly from those of my parents, I was overwhelmed by a desire to experience life, without the shackles of religion. So I ventured into the world and tasted the fruits of the various trees growing on this earth. This caused a rift to form between my parents and I- one that has never fully closed.

 When I was about fourteen years old an emotional interaction between my father and I caused him to order me out of his house. I gladly accepted and packed a bag. When I was seventeen this happened again. After staying with a friend for about a week one of my sisters caught wind of what had happened, and she invited me to stay with her. Within a short time (I cannot recall the exact time frame) my parents (most likely due to the prodding of my mother) invited me back home.

I attempted to be LDS again when I was sixteen. This lasted a brief six months, but the appeal of knowledge and experience persuaded me once again to leave their religion- this time the decision was final. We had many arguments, and even some that led to physical altercations. Now, do not judge my parents for a second- this was not child abuse. They are excellent people who did not understand how to handle a son whose language was articulate and disrespectful- most, if not all of the physical altercations were caused, and started, by my volatile emotions, and my inability to control my emotions; due to my immaturity, and something I did not become aware of until later in life.  

Emotions are something  I have always struggled with; partly due to the teachings of my father, and partly due to my own nature. My pops would always tell me growing up, “let it go”. Instead of discussing my internal fears and anxieties I would try to “let it go”; in reality this would mean the emotions would be buried until something would cause them to rise to the surface, and I would unleash a tirade on someone who usually did not deserve such treatment.

The further I moved away from their beliefs; the more I disbelieved in the concept of  “God”; the more strained and distant our relationship became. People are always attracted to those with similar interests, so it is no surprise that this occurred. Most of what I do is prohibited by their religion, or of no interest to them. However, I cannot see why anyone would support what I do when my own family does not.

I write music and stories. Unless I force them to sit down to listen to a song, they have no desire to listen to the music I create. The book I wrote, that my pops drew the cover art for, has not been read by them or any of my siblings. No matter how many times I ask for their feedback, I get none.

What bothers me most is this idea: that no one else will care what I do because my family is not supportive; and in some weird way I think that my creations lack the connectivity of the love that stems from the support a family gives to their members.

I feel disconnected from the world because I feel disconnected from the family I was born to.

I was struggling with the meaning of life, with a desire to live, so I went to therapy. The sessions I attended focused an insightful lens onto my internal universe. My emotional outbursts throughout my childhood, adolescence, and adult life flooded my mind. It all made sense now. The struggles I have with anger; the difficulties I have with communicating my thoughts and emotions; the contentious relationship with my parents; a debilitating, crippling apathy; an almost relentless, indomitable desire to rebel against any authority figure; all derived from the disassociation from my authentic self. 

The abandonment I had felt, the loneliness I had suffered,  dissipated to an extent when I learned what the root cause of my instability, and lack of self-control was. Now I could manage it. She taught me how to manage my condition, so that it would not continue to be a negative factor in my life- something I will be forever for. Recovery is not an easy task though, and there are many challenges to learn from. 

I am a very independent person, and I do not want people to think for a moment I require help. Psychological conditions are often received negatively, as though they will impede on your ability to live a successful life. My condition affects my understanding of social queues (I miss a lot), my eye contact, and my emotional intelligence and maturity; but in no way does this prevent me from being able to assimilate well enough to remain unnoticed.

I do not want my parents to feel guilt from the thought, “I did not do enough for my son.” They did all they could with what they had, and with what they knew. A few weeks ago my pops called me. His voice was nervous and shaky. Like any time he wants to discuss a specific topic, he small-talked his way around why he actually called me. After listening to idle banter for a few minutes I asked him, “Why did you call?”

“Your mother and I were thinking about selling the house and moving to Maryland with your sister.”

I was silent.

He began to list his reasons. They were damn good. He will be sixty this year, and he earns less than he has his entire life. The back-breaking labor he did throughout his 30 years of construction have left him an aching shadow of his former self. Moving to Maryland would give him the opportunity to retire (if he stayed here he would work for Salt Lake County until about death, or 80 years old; whichever came first). More importantly, moving would place him in the same house as that which brings him the most joy, his grandchildren.

Once he was done listing his reasons he asked me, “What do you think?” The question fills my eyes with tears, and chokes the air from my throat. Rarely has he asked me such a question. Throughout my entire life he always wanted to tell me “the way it is; the way to become a man.”

My response surprised me. I told him that too many people in this country live to work, and that is all that he does. He helped my mother raise five incredible children, and he worked his ass off (2-4 hour side jobs [mostly concrete] were a norm after his daily 9 hour grind) to provide the best life he could for his children. He told me he did not want to leave my sister and I hangin’; and I told him it would be selfish to tell him to stay.

Once again I followed the direction of my father, and attempted to ‘let it go’. However, my emotions are too strong to ignore. The abandonment issues of my youth have returned with an unbelievable force. I do not want to express this to my father because I do not want him to change his mind. What he is doing is the best decision for him, regardless of the consequences it imposes upon me. I am utterly confounded by the conflict I now endure.

Should I tell him? Should I not tell him? The answer seems simple and straightforward, yet I stay silent due to the idea that him not knowing is the best for him. But I must ask, what is the best for me? And to this question I have no answer.

His house will be sold within a few weeks, and he will be living in Maryland with my sister. I will have one sister left nearby, who is looking for employment outside of Utah, so that she can gain new experiences, and expand her knowledge of the world. Although I have supportive and loving friends, I cannot help feeling a powerful sense of loss, disappointment, and most of all abandonment.

To those of you who you suffer from the same I wish you solace in your darkest times. Know that you do not suffer alone. There are many like us, and these challenges will only strengthen our characters. When we put the needs of others before our own, our selflessness creates a positive change in the attitude of those people. We are the arbiters of progress.

All My Love

Laron R. Lemon