Speaking of tightropes, I have to walk one every time I discuss my childhood.
First, I would like to state for the record that I have an amazing mother and father. Actually, I have two amazing moms - one natural mother and one step-mother. They and their progenitors are and were wonderful people. They worked through tremendous hardships to establish themselves and raise their families.
There was a time in my life, however, when I could only see the weaknesses of my family and the wounds they inflicted upon me. There were wounds. Some came from family members, and others came from outside people and influences from which I was not protected.
At the age of 37, I was diagnosed with PTSD and a mild attachment disorder. This was not the first diagnosis I ever received, but it was the first that really made sense.
For much of my life, I struggled with anxiety. I didn’t tend to have huge panic attacks where I hyperventilated and feared death. Rather I would just get stressed easily, cry a lot, or get angry and often swear.
Years of therapy and trauma work have helped a great deal. Just the same, I continue to see the world through a strange lens. The mantras "I have to do everything by myself," “I’m stupid,” and "They don't really want me here" are some personal favorites.
My attachment disorder is very interesting. I’ve received the label of “anxious attachment,” which might be best described in the following monologue:
"Hi. I really like you. Do you like me? Let’s be friends. Best friends. Please let me know if you ever need anything. BTW, even though we don’t know each other that well, here is my life story. <insert long-winded life story>. Thanks for letting me share that. Sorry to go on and on. So please tell me all about yourself. Do you need anything? I think you’re amazing! Oh, you have to run? Oh, of course you do. Silly me, getting all carried away with time! No actually I had to go too. Bye. <quickly pretend you never noticed them in the first place>"
One might say that my attachment disorder causes me to fear that everyone sees me as one of those awkward guys you knew in high school who really wanted to date you, but you didn’t want to date him so you took the long way to class once a day to avoid running into him?
The more I understand about trauma and attachment, the more my anxiety and social challenges come to make sense. Sometimes I ache, because I feel I'm so poorly wired. At other times I’m just mad.
It's easy to look at your personal struggles and then look at your family and see all of the ways they played a part in it, even though it was unintentional.
Much has changed in the last 13 1/2 years, however.
One reason: I became a mother.
Words of Wisdom Upon Which I Claim No Ownership: If you want to come to understand and forgive your family, become a parent.
Granted, these are words of wisdom, not advice. If you are totally messed up, you should tread very slowly and carefully in the direction of parenthood. Very slowly…
If, however, you have a measure of stability, a good companion, a great deal of love to give, the willingness to sacrifice and never ever quit, and, of course, the ability to become a parent in one way or another, then go for it. It'll change your life and your view of everyone and everything.
Once I became a parent, certain aspects of my childhood became very clear. I started to appreciate how difficult this job is. Even in the seemingly most ideal circumstances - married to a prince, living in a castle, 4 cute mice - it is very easy to fall short in meeting my children’s physical and emotional needs.
My own childhood was wrought with so much weirdness. Divorce, moving, living near the poverty level at times, isolation, exposure to dangerous influences, etc. It was nothing like some of the horror stories I’ve heard, seen, or read. Just the same, it wasn’t very safe.
Still there was no one to blame. Anyone with intelligence and compassion could see that the deck was stacked against my parents’ marriage, my mom, my sister, and me. Yes, there were fun times with good memories, laughter, and some good food. There were good intentions, but the blows continued to land on each member of our household.
The enduring love that has kept us holding on tight to each other through the years following the storm (and I need to further tighten my grip), is a beautiful miracle.
Parenthood has opened my eyes to these realities.
Do you have any idea how difficult parenthood is? (If you are a parent, I'm guessing you do.) I would randomly guess that there are about 20 ways to nail some aspect of parenthood and 10,000 ways to flunk.
Parenthood never ends, either. You cannot walk away from parenthood, even with adult children, and say, "I tried. Not my thing. They are better off without me, and someone else can step in. No one will miss me." A hole will be left in each abandoned child. Even with the greatest step-parents, adoptive parents, spouses, and friends trying to fill and refill that hole, it will remain. The invisible string drawing children to their parents never really severs.
Fact: The most common form of child abuse is neglect.
Isn't that mind-boggling? When I learned that my heart sank. The truth is, neglecting your children is so easy. There are extreme examples of child neglect that often result from poverty, addiction, and/or mental illness. Yet even in the more ideal settings, parents can be pulled away from their children by so many things – distractions, physical or emotional problems, etc. – and the mild but real emotional neglect occurs.
My point is this: Now that I'm a parent, I get it. These are good people, and they are a part of me.
Stephen Schwartz wrote a great song called “Forgiveness’ Embrace” that captures this sentiment perfectly. I hope he won’t mind me sharing some lyrics:
“I have served a full life sentence as a prisoner of my past,
As a victim of a victim of a victim.
Seems my parents' parents' parents left traps that held me fast,
and they still catch me even when I think I've licked 'em.
Well, I have blamed them,
I have fought them,
but I never understood.
All they really did was did the best they could.
I forgive my poor flawed parents for the things they could not be.
I forgive my valiant lovers for not completing me.
And the hardest thing of all now,
I forgive myself the sin of not being all I planned
And all I thought I should have been.
But there's an alchemy in time,
transforms each grief and loss and scar
Into the precious stuff of who we are.
And there's a way to rise above,
If I look at them with love.
Though I don't deny that harm has taken place.
I can make my peace at last,
With the pieces of my past
And enfold them in forgiveness's embrace
Some call it wisdom, and some just call it grace.
When we make our peace at last
With the pieces of the past
And enfold them in forgiveness's embrace,
And enfold them.
I will enfold them.
Now I enfold them in forgiveness's embrace.”
I hope you'll forgive that I don't plan to go into a ton of detail about my childhood. I'm sure that as I’m improving my attachment style, I should at least keep some things private.
More importantly, though, I value my continuing relationships with my family who stay in and deeply enrich my life. I honor their beautiful gift of life, love, and honest efforts. I honor their journey of reflection, of regret, of continuing to extend themselves through each storm. I honor the memories and bonds that are created when an imperfect person loves and rears another imperfect person in a very imperfect world.
This lengthy treatise is what Honor Thy Father and Mother has come to mean to me.
First, I would like to state for the record that I have an amazing mother and father. Actually, I have two amazing moms - one natural mother and one step-mother. They and their progenitors are and were wonderful people. They worked through tremendous hardships to establish themselves and raise their families.
There was a time in my life, however, when I could only see the weaknesses of my family and the wounds they inflicted upon me. There were wounds. Some came from family members, and others came from outside people and influences from which I was not protected.
At the age of 37, I was diagnosed with PTSD and a mild attachment disorder. This was not the first diagnosis I ever received, but it was the first that really made sense.
For much of my life, I struggled with anxiety. I didn’t tend to have huge panic attacks where I hyperventilated and feared death. Rather I would just get stressed easily, cry a lot, or get angry and often swear.
Years of therapy and trauma work have helped a great deal. Just the same, I continue to see the world through a strange lens. The mantras "I have to do everything by myself," “I’m stupid,” and "They don't really want me here" are some personal favorites.
My attachment disorder is very interesting. I’ve received the label of “anxious attachment,” which might be best described in the following monologue:
"Hi. I really like you. Do you like me? Let’s be friends. Best friends. Please let me know if you ever need anything. BTW, even though we don’t know each other that well, here is my life story. <insert long-winded life story>. Thanks for letting me share that. Sorry to go on and on. So please tell me all about yourself. Do you need anything? I think you’re amazing! Oh, you have to run? Oh, of course you do. Silly me, getting all carried away with time! No actually I had to go too. Bye. <quickly pretend you never noticed them in the first place>"
One might say that my attachment disorder causes me to fear that everyone sees me as one of those awkward guys you knew in high school who really wanted to date you, but you didn’t want to date him so you took the long way to class once a day to avoid running into him?
The more I understand about trauma and attachment, the more my anxiety and social challenges come to make sense. Sometimes I ache, because I feel I'm so poorly wired. At other times I’m just mad.
It's easy to look at your personal struggles and then look at your family and see all of the ways they played a part in it, even though it was unintentional.
Much has changed in the last 13 1/2 years, however.
One reason: I became a mother.
Words of Wisdom Upon Which I Claim No Ownership: If you want to come to understand and forgive your family, become a parent.
Granted, these are words of wisdom, not advice. If you are totally messed up, you should tread very slowly and carefully in the direction of parenthood. Very slowly…
If, however, you have a measure of stability, a good companion, a great deal of love to give, the willingness to sacrifice and never ever quit, and, of course, the ability to become a parent in one way or another, then go for it. It'll change your life and your view of everyone and everything.
Once I became a parent, certain aspects of my childhood became very clear. I started to appreciate how difficult this job is. Even in the seemingly most ideal circumstances - married to a prince, living in a castle, 4 cute mice - it is very easy to fall short in meeting my children’s physical and emotional needs.
My own childhood was wrought with so much weirdness. Divorce, moving, living near the poverty level at times, isolation, exposure to dangerous influences, etc. It was nothing like some of the horror stories I’ve heard, seen, or read. Just the same, it wasn’t very safe.
Still there was no one to blame. Anyone with intelligence and compassion could see that the deck was stacked against my parents’ marriage, my mom, my sister, and me. Yes, there were fun times with good memories, laughter, and some good food. There were good intentions, but the blows continued to land on each member of our household.
The enduring love that has kept us holding on tight to each other through the years following the storm (and I need to further tighten my grip), is a beautiful miracle.
Parenthood has opened my eyes to these realities.
Do you have any idea how difficult parenthood is? (If you are a parent, I'm guessing you do.) I would randomly guess that there are about 20 ways to nail some aspect of parenthood and 10,000 ways to flunk.
Parenthood never ends, either. You cannot walk away from parenthood, even with adult children, and say, "I tried. Not my thing. They are better off without me, and someone else can step in. No one will miss me." A hole will be left in each abandoned child. Even with the greatest step-parents, adoptive parents, spouses, and friends trying to fill and refill that hole, it will remain. The invisible string drawing children to their parents never really severs.
Fact: The most common form of child abuse is neglect.
Isn't that mind-boggling? When I learned that my heart sank. The truth is, neglecting your children is so easy. There are extreme examples of child neglect that often result from poverty, addiction, and/or mental illness. Yet even in the more ideal settings, parents can be pulled away from their children by so many things – distractions, physical or emotional problems, etc. – and the mild but real emotional neglect occurs.
My point is this: Now that I'm a parent, I get it. These are good people, and they are a part of me.
Stephen Schwartz wrote a great song called “Forgiveness’ Embrace” that captures this sentiment perfectly. I hope he won’t mind me sharing some lyrics:
“I have served a full life sentence as a prisoner of my past,
As a victim of a victim of a victim.
Seems my parents' parents' parents left traps that held me fast,
and they still catch me even when I think I've licked 'em.
Well, I have blamed them,
I have fought them,
but I never understood.
All they really did was did the best they could.
I forgive my poor flawed parents for the things they could not be.
I forgive my valiant lovers for not completing me.
And the hardest thing of all now,
I forgive myself the sin of not being all I planned
And all I thought I should have been.
But there's an alchemy in time,
transforms each grief and loss and scar
Into the precious stuff of who we are.
And there's a way to rise above,
If I look at them with love.
Though I don't deny that harm has taken place.
I can make my peace at last,
With the pieces of my past
And enfold them in forgiveness's embrace
Some call it wisdom, and some just call it grace.
When we make our peace at last
With the pieces of the past
And enfold them in forgiveness's embrace,
And enfold them.
I will enfold them.
Now I enfold them in forgiveness's embrace.”
I hope you'll forgive that I don't plan to go into a ton of detail about my childhood. I'm sure that as I’m improving my attachment style, I should at least keep some things private.
More importantly, though, I value my continuing relationships with my family who stay in and deeply enrich my life. I honor their beautiful gift of life, love, and honest efforts. I honor their journey of reflection, of regret, of continuing to extend themselves through each storm. I honor the memories and bonds that are created when an imperfect person loves and rears another imperfect person in a very imperfect world.
This lengthy treatise is what Honor Thy Father and Mother has come to mean to me.
