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This summer I entered the Real Simple Life Lessons essay contest. The theme was “When did you feel like a grownup?”. The bad news is, I didn’t win. The good news is, I can finally share it on my blog!

It is nearly noon and my husband is on his third trip from our hospital room, lugging our belongings to the truck and checking once again that the car seat base is securely fastened. I am packing up the small collection of “how to” manuals given to us over the past two days and glancing every so often at my brand new baby boy, fast asleep in the hospital bassinet. One would think becoming a mother would be the life changing event that propelled me into adulthood. The reality is, my son’s arrival coincided with the bittersweet realization that in order to grow up I had to sever the metaphorical umbilical cord with my own birth family that was keeping me their child.

The members of my birth family are afflicted with a variety of mental issues, ranging from mild depression to severe mental illness to addiction. I suspect a variety of personality disorders are in play here, but I am not a psychiatrist. I am playing detective, trying to figure out why they act the way they do, why I am the way I am and if there is a way for us to all live in harmony.

None of the issues I mentioned seem to have manifested in me, at least not yet. Maybe I am just flattering myself with the title of “the most stable family member”, but I believe the truth is "co-dependant." I played an important role which a former therapist described as “Colin Powell.” Anytime there was a family crisis, I was called in to pick up the pieces. I was expected to be strong while they fell apart. I was expected to be the peacemaker and help end conflict. I was the one who helped get things done because they were too helpless to do it themselves. I was expected to think, act and behave in ways defined by my family dynamic that reflected positively on them.

The same therapist strongly suggested I move out of the state, but a good daughter does not abandon her family, right? I had an obligation to take care of these people who needed me and I was convinced I needed them just as much. Anytime I tried to step out on my own, all hell broke loose. I was reminded of the reasons why I could not stand on my own, of my obligation to them, and was coerce back into my role as dutiful child.

The clinical term for this type of relationship is enmeshment and occurs when there are no healthy physical or psychological boundaries in a family. This is a common phenomenon in dysfunctional households. My detective work has led me to believe that my mother has narcissistic personality disorder, which explains why I view her as the center of all this chaos. In her universe, her spouse and children are expected to orbit her. The orbit is defined by her needs, wants, desires, opinions and expectations. One literally has to fall in line of her definition of the orbit in order to maintain peace. Falling out of orbit has catastrophic consequences in the form of rage, guilt, blame, obligation, manipulation and abandonment. You cannot be part of her universe unless you conform to her will.

In functioning families, healthy boundaries can be illustrated by a home. On the top floor, you have the two parents standing together. On the bottom floor, you have their children, all on equal footing. The boundaries for the parents and the children are symbolized by the different floors. There is also a boundary surrounding the whole family, symbolized by walls of the house. There are ways to be invited into each other’s personal space, represented by the stairs and the front door. The front door is particularly important, because in healthy families, eventually the children walk out that front door and start a “home” of their own.

The desire to have a home of my own is what helped me to finally grow up. It was a journey that has lasted nearly ten years. Early in my journey, I led a double life. I was able to live on my own and start the necessary process of defining the standards I wanted to live by. Having no established boundaries with my birth family caused me to be snapped back orbit when it seemed I was straying too far from their influence. I was on call, on edge all the time, waiting for the other show to drop and to quickly come to the rescue.

Defining sense of self became more complicated when I fell in love with a man who came from a healthy, functioning family. Interacting with his parents and sister opened my eyes to a different way of living. They respected each family member as an individual with their own mind and had consideration for other’s feelings and needs. Sure there were problems, but the boundaries in place kept the responsibility for those problems where they belonged. Problems didn’t overflow to the point it became chaos. I began to see the type of home I wanted to create with my husband.

As we grew as a couple, I had to learn not to let outside influences come between our decisions. By defining the boundaries that were to surround our new family, we were building a solid foundation for our home. The only outside influence that had the nerve to breach our fledgling boundaries was my birth family, with my mother leading the charge. When she succeeded, it threatening to destroy that foundation we were working so hard to strengthen.

To remedy the situation, my husband and I would spend less and less time with my birth family. I never fully understood the term “familiarity breeds contempt” until I tried to spread my wings and fly outside of my mother’s universe. I naively thought she would eventually see me as an individual, and an adult. I had hoped we could create a relationship more appropriate for woman and her mother.

The prospect of becoming a mother myself was so exciting for me. My husband and I had started planning to be parents even before we were engaged. With this excitement came dread since even the way we decided to parent our child would come under my mother’s scrutiny. Our son risked enmeshment with my birth family’s dysfunction. I wanted my parents and sister to be a part of our child’s life, but I did not want the obligation of having to follow their standards or to endure the resentment when I didn’t. My husband and I wanted to protect the family we were creating. In order for them to be invited into our home, we needed to move forward in the spirit of mutual respect.

The standoff came to a head at our baby shower. This time I had disappointed my mother because we decided not to open the gifts until after the party. She used all the old tricks to try to get me to do as she wanted – fear, obligation and guilt. She even sent in my innocent nieces to do her dirty work, asking me when we would open the gifts. When she finally realized I was going to stand by the decision I made with my husband, she stormed off in a huff. My father and sister followed her out the door. I felt that even though I held my ground, my mother succeeded in making me feeling like a naughty seven year old girl. Even more than that, I felt violated. Mom took a day that was suppose to be about our new son and made it about her. She was trying very hard to pull me back into her orbit by intimidating me and acting like I intentionally set out to hurt her.

After my family left, something within me finally snapped. This would be the last time I allowed anyone’s behavior – family or not - to affect me so negatively. It became painfully obvious at this point a more direct action was needed to protect my husband and me against further infringement of our emotional space. Neither of us had any idea of what needed to be done. With less than a month until our due date, we met with a therapist who suggested we send my family a boundary letter. We made a point that we hold these same expectations for everyone, not just the three of them. We wanted them to use the front door instead of busting through the windows of our home, our emotional space.

It came as no surprise that the boundary letter was not well received. My mother took it as an attack and spun a crazy story so she would not have to take responsibility for her actions or accept me as an individual. My father and sister stood behind her. Each remaining day before my son was born, I hoped my birth family would have a change of heart and we would come to an understanding. Instead, they firmly held their position and we held ours. We now lived in two different universes.

The sun rose the next morning and life moved on. Soon the day of my son’s birth was upon us. I was determined to maintain a protective barrier around my family and the first twenty four hours after my son’s arrival was spent with him and my husband. My son completely redefined my reality and helped to numb the blow of what had transpired with my parents. All my energy was now focused on being his mom.

As we left the hospital with our baby boy, I felt excited to go home and begin life as parents. My heart was heavy with the knowledge my birth family could not be part of this new beginning until they proved they could be respectful of our boundaries. I had shed myself of the unreasonable expectations I had been burden with as a child, an became the primary authority on living my life. As an adult, I stood beside my husband to protect and care for the family we are building together.