Does it Matter that Alice Miller was a Terrible Mother?

Hello again, enlightened witness. As I stated in my last post, I feel tremendous gratitude for the information contained in Alice Miller's books. I feel that those books are genuinely helping me to find myself. So you can imagine how troubled I felt when I read an interview with Miller's son, Martin and I learned what an awful mother she was. I've struggled to separate the author's works from her personal life and continue to do so.

I won't get into the weeds with details about how awfully Alice Miller treated her son. You can read it for yourself in Martin's book if you wish. It's title is The True “Drama of the Gifted Child”: The Phantom Alice Miller — The Real Person.

I will say that these facts have made me take a closer look at myself, not just as a victim of parental negligence, but as a perpetrator of cruelty myself. It's not something that's easy for me to admit, but I often feel the urge to punish others and, when those others are clearly weaker than me, it's been an urge that I've acted upon. I've always felt tremendous guilt over this but have often swept the memories of these actions under the rug and tried to forget about them, but I can't. It's like they were acted out by a different person. A person who I would never condone in the clear light of day. 

I'm convinced that there's a bit of Jekyll and Hyde happening here for may of us who were childhood victims of parental trauma. That inner self who never got the opportunity to survive and thrive is kicking the walls in, and every now and then they take over in a fit of rage. I can attest that during these outbursts, I feel completely out of control, like Bruce banner becoming the Hulk. I felt as though i couldn't contain my rage. I was sweating profusely, even if it was cold. My inner child was clearly in the midst of a tantrum.

While that analogy is oversimplified, I think it rings true. In my case, it usually happens not when I'm feeling powerless, but when I'm feeling conflicted about putting my own needs ahead of someone else's. I was turned into a people-pleaser by my parents' actions. To this day, my inclination is to seek approval from anyone and everyone no matter who or what they may be. This inclination is more than  a trait - it's a genuine NEED. I need the approval I never got from my parents in order to put salve on those inner wounds. Make no mistake - this is a survival mechanism that I'm now working hard to overcome. Pleasing others is an impossible task fraught with frustration and even submission. I'm giving other people control over my psyche in a way I definitely do not want. And by "other people," I mean cashiers, homeless people, my boss and even my pets. I mean everyone. 

The conflict happens when I feel an intense need to choose my best interests over those of someone else and it's impossible to do both. At those times I enter into an internal conflict that can spiral out of control and become sheer rage. Honestly, I'm only clearly realizing this as I'm thinking it through right now, but it makes sense. When I have two conflicting high-priority needs, there's no way for either one to win. That's when I can sometimes act upon what I illogically perceive to be the source of the conflict - whoever I feel like I NEED to please. I can actually feel like I need to destroy them!

I imagine this to be the state that many neglected children encounter with their own children. Parents, especially mothers, are expected to put the needs of their children first. So, how are they expected to feel when they have a real drive to fulfill their own needs from time to time? Sure, there's the funny modern concept of "Me Time" (isn't is all me time? I never seem to be able to escape from me) and the airliner oxygen mask instruction, but for the most part, society doesn't think that the parent's needs are that important.

I feel fortunate that I chose not to have children. While I certainly would have enjoyed the experience in many ways, i also know that I would have been capable of foisting upon them many of the same traumas as were foisted onto me. I don't think I would have been self aware enough to stop it. I already see my brother treating his daughter in an overprotective fashion that mimics how our own mother smothered us. 

My conclusion is that self awareness isn't always enough to shed us of ingrained impulses, though it can help. This is a process. By writing these things and putting them out into the world, I feel I'm improving my potential to grown and change beyond the narrow confines of behavior prescribed by the mistreatment I received as a child. I already feel more control over myself and I feel a slightly better inkling of who I might be under my mask. Perhaps Alice Miller felt similarly, but also felt that it was the mask of the author of those great books that was of the most value in the world, hence her ongoing inability to remove it. I'm thankful that Martin removed it for us so we can know that knowledge alone will never be enough. We have to work to remove our own masks.