There are things you just don’t know when you are raised by wolves.
While I’m mostly pretty good at dealing with people, it does not come naturally. My parents were barely domesticated, and it took everything I had just to fit in. Dad drank. Mom popped pills and slept through my childhood. They both had crappy low-paying jobs they hated. He was angry, and she was depressed. My sister and I were left to fend for ourselves.
Joining the Army at 18 was the beginning of a life I never imagined. I eventually became an executive communications advisor for a Fortune 100 company, but I always felt like I was making up the rules as I went. I listened, watched, copied and learned. It’s not that I wanted to be somebody else, but I wanted to be somebody. I thought I had it all figured out until the consultant arrived.
One of her first interventions was about conflict. There were about a dozen of us, and we sullenly gathered in a poorly lit conference room with a big oval fake wood table smack in the middle. She started at one end and asked everyone to take turns sharing how we dealt with conflict in our families when we were growing up.
Two hands found each other under the table, and we held on tight. Next to me was my friend and confidante, who also knew a thing or two about wolves. She was a secretary, and I was a senior manager. We had both lived with crazy, and we knew what crazy looked like.
One careful observation at a time, one quiet comment as I stood by her desk waiting for the boss to call me in, one look from her when the workplace madness was in full form, and I knew. And she knew I knew. That’s how we learned to trust each other.
But here we were, in the big room with the consultant. At least we were on the tail end of the circle, so we had time to figure this out. She squeezed, I squeezed back.
The consultant asked, “How did you handle conflict in your family?” Someone said they discussed it like civilized adults over cocktails out by the pool.
Still holding hands, I thought about my friend, who didn’t even refer to her father as her father. First name only. I had my own father baggage, but I never called him Bill. I remember the fear of being exposed, the fear that we would have to reveal our dysfunctional childhoods after making it this far.
I don’t even remember what either one of us finally said. I only remember holding my friend’s hand as the consultant went around the table, one by one, person by person, inching closer and closer to us.
I remember…you are still the only one who totally gets it.
I knew, and you knew that I knew …
I really don’t like those questions at work. I don’t even like the ice breaker games. I have learned to say very generic things if I can’t get out of it.
I hated all that stuff, too. You are way ahead of the game if you have already learned to say generic things. When I was a leader, I’m proud to say I told my team they could opt out of any kind of ice breaker or team building activity they didn’t feel comfortable with. And quite a few did. Thanks for visiting!
I didn’t want to hit “like” because it’s not a “like”, it’s an “i hear you.” I was in a trauma discussion group this spring and heard about “being raised by wolves” from a few women in the group. To me, they were amazing – to survive that upbringing and becoming the women they are today – I was in awe at their strength, their ability to become who they were without that basic foundation. And yes, I am in awe of you as well.
I loved how you talked about “I listened, watched, copied and learned. It’s not that I wanted to be somebody else, but I wanted to be somebody.” I think that says it about many of us… we want to be somebody and often did not learn that in childhood. Even if we weren’t raised by wolves, many of us were not taught so many of the basics. Merely an FYI, I didn’t learn how to manage conflicts in my childhood home either and now I’m going to have to consider why that is!
Your comments mean a lot to me. I’ve been a little worried about this post — like maybe too heavy or whatever — but you made me feel more confident about what I had to say and how I said it.
I might hang onto that line about not wanting to be somebody else but wanting to be somebody. It explains a lot.
My husband wasn’t raised by wolves, but they had their fair share of dysfunction. He and his sister deal with conflict the same way — shutting down and avoiding it! I tell them they learned that at home, and they just give me the look.
I admire your ability to overcome the wolves in your family. It takes courage, strength and perseverance to do so. Every family has dysfunction, and it takes a lot of practice and or therapy to get to the other side. Thank you for sharing here. I would have loved to had you as a supervisor who allowed people to opt out of any kind of ice breakers. As an introvert I hated those sessions!
I saved a cartoon years ago. It was a one-panel. There was a stage with a big banner over it reading, “Welcome Adult Children of Normal Families.” And there was no one in the audience.
The workplace seems to conspire against introverts!
OMG I have been retired for ten years, and this post took me right back to an Executive Committee meeting. A group of eight people who made up the administration of the university where I worked as the Executive Assistant to the President. So I was always in the room, but I operated at an entirely different level from everyone else. My own childhood was difficult in lots of ways (when I described it to my therapist who was helping me as I was leaving my ex, he said “Wow. That’s weird.” So I did discuss it superficially with coworkers at my level, but I never confided in any of the people in the meeting. I don’t recall the exact question the consultant asked, but I know I should have won an academy award for the answer I gave. I am so relieved not to have to deal with any of that stuff any more.
Now you have another reason to be happy today. You don’t have to do that anymore!! But congrats on the Academy Award. I could have used some tips.
I love the story of “That’s weird.” I got a similar reaction when I told my therapist that for as long as I could remember, my father slept in a camper parked in the backyard.
“they discussed it like civilized adults over cocktails out by the pool”? From where I’m sitting, that’s downright odd behaviour, repressed even – but that’s me letting my judgemental self out of the box.
I absolutely loathe that consultants and their ilk think they have free license to delve into areas of life which are personal and nothing to do with work. If there’s a problem with conflict in the workplace, there are professional ways to address it and none of those ways is to have a round table discussion expecting people to air their emotional underwear. That is the height of intrusion, in no way professional and none of their damn business.
Your team must’ve been happy to be on your team in more ways than one.
That consultant was nuts. I didn’t want to make the column about her, so I left a lot out. A very sad memory was when she was doing some sort of stupid thing, and one of our most dignified team members was somehow coerced into getting on the floor and barking like a dog. It was shameful.
Crikey! You did have a lot to leave out. I couldn’t agree more – utterly shameful!