Debby Shanahan - Cracked Shell: Life as an Emerging Scapegoat

DEBBY SHANAHAN

CRACKED
SHELL

Life as an Emerging Scapegoat

Copyright 2017 Debby Shanahan.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4907-8062-7 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4907-8061-0 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4907-8060-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017901844

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,
and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery Thinkstock.

Trafford rev. 05/12/2017

www.trafford.com
North America & international
toll-free: 1 888 232 4444 (USA & Canada)
fax: 812 355 4082

To the people who brought out the best i n me:
Don na M.,
Mi mi S.,
G il,
Buzz,
Nan ci E.,
John Co nrad,
and
Julie D . L.

Contents

This book has taken a lot of guts, tears, and research. I have been in counseling for numerous years, and the only way to get over the trauma of my parents divorce and its effects on me is to write about it. This book has no dedication and no fancy anything. Its full of emotions, ordeals, tribulations, and a whole lot of factual events. I have been writing this book for the past ten years. I went through countless journals, diaries, and tapes I recorded, weeding through a vast amount of information.

I am someone who likes to be alone and in the dark, and I wrote till the sun came up. Over the course of these past ten years, I would go to all-night diners around 9:00 p.m. and spend numerous weekends writing there, where my family spent the majority of our time together. While there, I would be flooded with fantastic, warm memories of us as a family, and that stream of thoughts would lead to Where the heck did it all go wrong? We had a great life, and then it changed.

This book is not a poor me book, it is not a parent-bashing book; it is more of how the situation has made me strong, independent, and appreciative (yes, appreciative) of the circumstances. Instead of wallowing in the sad details and major life change, I thought I would make this book so hopefully people can relate to me and my situation and have the strength to carry on and use the people around them as well as their own inner strength to move on in life. I have shed countless tears over reliving this. The rest of the family has moved on, but I couldnt seem to shake it all. I have gone through life writing about everything, hence all the journals I have found throughout my life. This is written with no one else in mind but me. It is only fair to me that I give myself a voice, when for so long I was hiding everything inside. Not many people would share this view, but to those people I owe nothing, to myself I owe everything.

I had so many titles for this book. At one point, I was going to name the book Divorce: The Death of a Family . I wrote a paper in sociology in college with that title. I got an A on the paper and the presentation. I was going to break it into three parts: before the divorce, during the divorce, and after the divorce. But I felt this was giving the divorce too much power. My life was extremely affected by the divorce, and as a gesture of fairness to myself, I needed to write this book for my own peace of mind. There is no one else responsible for me but me, and is it fair that I have spent countless hours in therapy, stemming from a suicide attempt when I was eleven years old?

With this book, I want to be heard. People heard me in my life, but not many really listened, starting with my own family. I liked to talk, perhaps too much. Whenever I told people I had a story, my brother said, Give us the Readers Digest version, two sentences or less. This book is a heck of a lot more than two sentences. It has chapters of my stories, my feelings, and my situations that all add up to me and my life. If you write a book about your entire life, you could be writing forever. You hear a song or see something on TV, and that provokes a memory, and then you think of something else to write about during that time in your life. The things I have put in here are about me. I have written about all the things in my life that are my interpretation, my experience, and my opinion. I am having a hard time moving on in life full force, and I am having a hard time moving on in life full force, but I have promised myself that I would, and the only way to do that is to write about my life. This is a good way for me to release the past so I can have an unbelievable future like I have witnessed so many others do. We all have one thing in our lives that we can contribute to be the thing that changed our lives and defined who we are.

I think we all have a story to tell, and this is mine.

When you are a child, there is such a thing as idyllic and perfect. When your basic needs are met, and when there are enough people in the house so you are never lonely, that makes for perfection. We lived in a two-story Dutch colonial house with an attached garage. Our neighborhood was a typical suburban setting where the houses were cozy and the yards well manicured. My dad made the outside a perfectly landscaped oasis. The trees and flowers he planted were bright and colorful. On the weekends, we would actually go tree shopping and find the most beautiful flowers. Everyone in town knew my family. We were well liked because of, I think, my dads persona and my moms beauty and charm. They were a good-looking couple with great kids and a great life. My dad was an interior designer and owned a business in an affluent neighborhood. He was talented, actually gifted, and sought-after. I do remember him being fun and funny. My parents were magical, and I was magical. I was a part of something magical: my family. We got the latest and most expensive toys, gadgets, and anything we asked for at Christmas. But the beauty of that was that we were all nice kids. Im one of five children. The others are Jillian, Greg, Glenn, and Emerson. I remember a snow day. It was the coolest day, and I was spending it with my family. My dad made a big breakfast, and he read a book about a boy who had a snow day. In the beginning, we had a great life. People tell my mom how fantastic of a job she did raising us five. But the honest truth is we had an excellent foundation.

My parents were married for twenty-two years. They were extremely well liked by all. They were the Barbie and Ken in the family and the community. In that time frame, they had five children in eleven years. My dad earned enough that my mom could stay home with us. We had dinner every night as a family. My mom cooked and cleaned and was there for us to raise us the way she wanted. In fact, when other moms were excited for back-to-school season, my mom would miss us. She and my dad were actually a great team together. All our basic needs were met, and there was love and someone in charge of us. Sundays were celebrated, as were Saturdays. My dad would make milkshakes and build a fire. He made popcorn in our fireplace. Life was good actually, great! We were respectful and expected to behave. My parents were not afraid to tell us how it was. We had a house for sixteen years and lots of toys: boats, motorcycles, snowmobiles. Christmas, when we were kids, was incredible. We NEVER, EVER wanted for anything. We had the latest and the greatest of everything and anything a kid could ever want. Life was NEVER lonely because there was always someone around. Christmas morning would take hours because we all had so many gifts. Were we spoiled? I would say yes, but we were also taught to be appreciative and grateful.