This post would be too long to go into detail (actually, it’d make a great 5,000 word story; I’ll have to consider it) but it was inspired by a grumpy old man (my father-in-law), a stubborn man (my spouse) and a wonderfully kind, patient, tolerant and loving woman, who should probably be nominated by the Catholic Church for sainthood (me!) being locked together in a car for over two hours with a destination in mind that only one even claimed to know how to reach, but lied about that part. I think you get the picture.
The gist of it is that I recognize without ever being a parent, how terribly important a job it is. Good parenting leaves its mark, but not-so-good burns deeper into the layers of the person we become. I have been blessed with a childhood that of course included some hating of my mother or anger at my father at times, but in general, they gave everything they had to their kids and their raising of us.
I look at a family of great people, but each of five children has carried within them the feelings of being the one child that was disliked, while readily pointing a finger to a sibling who was considered the golden child–amazing to me that each one has been anointed with that privilege by one of the group, while feeling deep inside they were the screwup of the family. These children grow up with a broken heart that never really mends fully. In my own family, I freely pointed out to my parents that my eldest sister was my dad’s favorite, my second eldest was my mom’s, and me, they liked a lot. But favoritism is often just a case of personality meld, and we were all loved equally.
I can’t imagine feeling unloved by a parent, and carrying that weight into maturity. I see it, though. I see it in so many of my friends; the desire to still have the perfect parent, to still be the perfect child. You can rationalize it and see it, and yet never be able to get over the emotional imprint of who your parents were and how they raised you.
Though I, with the help of my sister-in-law (another who married into this family) were able to smooth over the repercussions of this event, I wonder sometimes if it doesn’t just set everyone up to just continue on in a never-ending struggle with self-esteem, resentment, and hurt.
All I can say is, be kind and loving to your children. Forgive your parents if you can. And most important of all, communicate.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
This really hit home. Wonderful writing and advice. Thanks for the supoprt over my tirade of a few days ago. Life would be so much easier if there were alternatre universes to excape for a few days, without the use of drugs.