I spent most of my blogging time last week obsessing about one post. And it's still not up. There is a reason for that--I wrote it, edited it, asked my husband to read it to give me some feedback, edited again, and sat on it. Over the weekend, I had a bit of an epiphany--this post I was so concerned about, was written with the completely wrong approach. I couldn't change it enough so that I didn't think it didn't come across as whiny.
This trait aggravates me greatly, and I'd hate to have my writing perpetuate it unless it's absolutely necessary. I'll probably still post it at some point, but it's going to need a lot of rewriting before it's done. It is very personal, it is a large piece of my motivation, even obsessive drive to write. But if I have even one person say to me, "Oh you poor thing, that must have been so hard for you" I'll hate myself for it.
It did make me start to wonder, however, we all have "issues" from childhood--why in the world do we tend to spend so much time dwelling on them? Why do we tend to focus on how we were wronged in our minds instead of taking into consideration how lucky we really had/have it? Why is there a seemingly eternal struggle for creating or defining that "perfect childhood" and then comparing all the ways we were denied that experience?
Even the most noble of intentions can go horribly wrong; just ask Macbeth. No matter how much you think your kids are like you, they're going to be different in many regards and how you would handle something is going to wind up upsetting them in some way. Despite the well meaning actions of a parent, while possibly "traumatic" at the time, the kid usually grows up and starts to understand their parents better as people allowing us to see why they did what they did. We're still allowed to disagree with it, but if you're holding on to some deeply embedded resentment because your mom wouldn't let you go on that date with the guy with 8 tattoos and a nose ring in high school, it's probably time to move on.
These are just life lessons that you can learn and become a stronger person or ignore them so you can continue to have that pity party. The problem with the latter is that eventually, you're the only one left at that party. After all, you heard your mother say countless times, there are starving children in Africa while you are complaining about meatloaf and not wanting to eat all your vegetables.
Reading myself complain about my childhood seemed so ridiculous after I stepped back from the post for a day. I never had to learn how to cook meth after school and balance that with getting my homework done to escape the same future. I never got left in a 3rd world country where I was either sold into human trafficking or as a child soldier. I never had a family member do anything inappropriate to me that would scar me for life. I could go on and on.
The bottom line is, I'm (for the most part) a responsible adult, I make enough to provide for my family, I occasionally have fun and act silly, and I generally like who I've become. I wouldn't be who I am today if it weren't for my experiences as a child and on up through yesterday. There's no such thing as "perfect" but I certainly can have what works best for me.
Hopefully, I'll be able to do the same for my daughter and keep her from becoming a serial killer when she grows up. She can be mad at me when I embarrass her as a teenager or not let her have THE outfit that all the other girl's moms said was okay because I think it looks like a $2 hooker dress. She'll learn to get over it because I had her best interests in mind when she didn't.
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