Parenting. After the Fact.
When I found out I was going to become a parent, I spent those nine months doing a LOT of soul-searching and researching because I wanted to solidify what kind of parent I wanted to be. I was young. Twenty-two is not terribly young, but young enough. I was single, but honestly that didn't bother me as much as you would think. I had confidence that I could do this.
But, unfortunately, the only parental role models I had were, well, my parents. And frankly, they weren't all that great at it. Don't get me wrong: I wasn't abused or starved or anything so horrendous. But they weren't GOOD at it. Add to that, my mother was mentally ill, and untreated. So, the first admission I had to make was that I was raised by a very mentally ill, probably bipolar, woman, and that was certainly not the parent I wanted to be.
So decision #1: Don't be your mom.
Easy enough, right? Except what I wasn't willing to admit was that I wasn't 100% mentally healthy myself. I was OCD (which my mom was and I very much did not want to be). I had (have) social anxiety and was anxious in large groups. I was very introverted. I had anger control issues, but I faced those head on and made the decision that I would never touch my child in anger. I had faced just enough abuse at my mother's hand to know THAT wasn't going to be my child's life. I was a mess and couldn't acknowledge it. Because in my mind, a parent with issues was NOT a good parent. And by god, I was going to be a good fucking parent!
But then, I raised a talented, smart, precocious and marvelous EXTROVERT. He acted in Shakespeare, joined band, entered the Conservatory, did musicals...what a wonderful boy I had! He was always performing or doing something academically fabulous, and I was required, as every good parent should know, to attend these events.
Oh. Em. Gee. I was terrified.
In fact, I think I spent all of my boy's life until he was 18, insanely anxious. I had to mentally prepare myself for every event and if I were to be honest, I didn't go to nearly enough. I know this because many times when I did manage to make it to one, I felt that every parent and teacher passive-aggressively reprimanded me for it. Now, they may or may not have, but my guilt at this point was unbearable, overshadowed only by my extreme anxiety at going to these events.
I tried, and I feel I mostly succeeded, to be the greatest parent I could be and if our current relationship is any indication, I think I did it!
But to every parent out there I say, when you are judging or reprimanding a parent because they aren't doing what you think every parent should do, maybe stop and realize that you don't know the quiet struggles of people. Maybe, just maybe, your kind word or knowing look might make someone's day just that much more bright. I know it always helped me when I was there, wrapped in my heavy blanket of anxiety, just trying to make it through one more play or one more concert.
And to my son I can only say I'm sorry. I can't change the past, but I can admit my shortcomings, hope you understand, and continue being the best parent I can be. With the eyes and brain of an adult, I hope you can forgive me.
But, unfortunately, the only parental role models I had were, well, my parents. And frankly, they weren't all that great at it. Don't get me wrong: I wasn't abused or starved or anything so horrendous. But they weren't GOOD at it. Add to that, my mother was mentally ill, and untreated. So, the first admission I had to make was that I was raised by a very mentally ill, probably bipolar, woman, and that was certainly not the parent I wanted to be.
So decision #1: Don't be your mom.
Easy enough, right? Except what I wasn't willing to admit was that I wasn't 100% mentally healthy myself. I was OCD (which my mom was and I very much did not want to be). I had (have) social anxiety and was anxious in large groups. I was very introverted. I had anger control issues, but I faced those head on and made the decision that I would never touch my child in anger. I had faced just enough abuse at my mother's hand to know THAT wasn't going to be my child's life. I was a mess and couldn't acknowledge it. Because in my mind, a parent with issues was NOT a good parent. And by god, I was going to be a good fucking parent!
But then, I raised a talented, smart, precocious and marvelous EXTROVERT. He acted in Shakespeare, joined band, entered the Conservatory, did musicals...what a wonderful boy I had! He was always performing or doing something academically fabulous, and I was required, as every good parent should know, to attend these events.
Oh. Em. Gee. I was terrified.
In fact, I think I spent all of my boy's life until he was 18, insanely anxious. I had to mentally prepare myself for every event and if I were to be honest, I didn't go to nearly enough. I know this because many times when I did manage to make it to one, I felt that every parent and teacher passive-aggressively reprimanded me for it. Now, they may or may not have, but my guilt at this point was unbearable, overshadowed only by my extreme anxiety at going to these events.
I tried, and I feel I mostly succeeded, to be the greatest parent I could be and if our current relationship is any indication, I think I did it!
But to every parent out there I say, when you are judging or reprimanding a parent because they aren't doing what you think every parent should do, maybe stop and realize that you don't know the quiet struggles of people. Maybe, just maybe, your kind word or knowing look might make someone's day just that much more bright. I know it always helped me when I was there, wrapped in my heavy blanket of anxiety, just trying to make it through one more play or one more concert.
And to my son I can only say I'm sorry. I can't change the past, but I can admit my shortcomings, hope you understand, and continue being the best parent I can be. With the eyes and brain of an adult, I hope you can forgive me.
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