“In-Smoked:” An Exploration of Intergenerational Trauma

Today, in honor of my deceased father’s 74^th birthday I share a personal story that reflects the nuanced dynamics of the psychological damage that often occurs in families. My story is unique to me, but I know it shares flavors with other people’s experiences, and I hope that in reading this you may find a piece of yourself and your own healing.

My dad loved me deeply. I know he did. He held the vibration of love and adoration for me. In my eyes he did lots of things wrong, but in my heart, he could do no wrong. I felt from him, in his presence, the love and holding that he had for me. I was his princess. His sweetheart. I felt that with all my heart and soul, yet I could not square that feeling with the reality of our human relationship.

As a five- or six-year-old, I would sit with him in silence as he watched football. On his lap, the safest place I knew of at the time. While he watched and smoked his cigarettes. While I allowed us to be wrapped in smoke. While I grasped at the smoke rings, coming from his mouth. I just loved these moments because I was IN love with him. He’d let me sit on his lap face to face. Play the game of him puffing his cheeks with air and then me placing my young hands on his face to force the air out. I thought he was the coolest, smartest, strongest. I felt safe in his presence. I loved him deeply and completely. Yet could not square his behavior towards me with what I felt for him. He was surely my first male love. His absence and sporadic re-entries into my life made me long for his love more. When I came home from spending the weekend at his house his scent, his presence lingered on me. In my clothes, the smell of smoke that became linked to my beingness with him. This experience is part of the reason why in my adult life I like to smoke alone, to be with him.

I loved him. He loved me.

He witnessed me from a distance for most of my life. In his shame at never being able to measure up to who he thought he needed to be for me as my father. The provider. The ever-present protector. He was never that, so he kept himself away from me when he felt “not good enough.”  When I’d complain that I just wanted him to “try” to be a dad, what I was really begging for was his presence. For him to be with me in the vibration of love that he held for me and I for him.

His love combined with his behavior created doubt within me as a young person. How can I feel this way in his presence, and he behave so badly?  Yet I felt what I felt from him, and I sensed the obstacles that got in the way of him loving me in action the way he loved me with his heart. His own doubt. His own sense of being an insufficient father, who was never fathered himself. His own childhood adversities too numerous to name.

This is one of the many ways that trauma manifests itself intergenerationally. Its insidious in this way, that allows a child to grow up and be a “productive” member of society, but at the same time feeling conflicted in trusting themselves. Linda James Meyers has a theory that states that one of the reasons individuals experience mental health challenges and dis-ease, is because we experience a lack of connection with our material and spiritual Selves.  In this case with my father, my spiritual Self knew one thing about the nature of our relationship, while my material Self saw something completely different. In therapy the way to heal this chasm is to facilitate the client’s journey of self-knowledge, yet another core component of Dr. Meyers’ Optimal Conceptual Theory. Self-knowledge, meaning the full knowing and understanding of the Self (with a big S), which leads to trust. Self-trust. What a different experience we all can have if we trusted our own inner knowing about ourselves and our lived experiences, above what others in society have to say about who we are.

Thank you for reading.