Once in a while I come across a quote on one of my social media newsfeeds that hits too close to home. Words that sink in deep and linger for a while. This past week the quote that really pulled me in said:
“Shout out to people who grew up with emotionally unsupportive parents and have to hear other people talk about how supportive their families are while you’re basically guiding yourself through life. You are strong and brave.”
Simple words. Not poetic. Not flowery. Yet they impacted me.
I posted this quote on Facebook and one by one, friends and relatives commented, messaged me, or “liked” it. More people than I thought would even stop scrolling long enough to read the words. More people than I thought would “get” it.
For a moment I felt a stronger kinship with these people than I ever had before. For amid the glossy, filtered lives we all show on social media, there were many others who had to learn to wire and rewire adulthood without any real example to live up to. We had to write our own proverbial owner’s manuals. We had to unlearn things we should’ve never learned.
All of our stories are different. We all know that there is no such thing as a “perfect” childhood or family. We are all aware that amid the chaos that exists in every home….some also contained more compassion, maturity, love, and tolerance. Some of us had at least one parent to lean on, others none…..but this is not a sob story.
It’s an ode to the strength of character we developed while having to guide ourselves through life. A different, stronger level of loyalty and a moral compass that is unwavering….because those became our survival skills.
I’ve debated about how much of my personal life I want to deliver in my writing. I don’t want to throw anyone under the bus. I also know there may be some people who will gloat with satisfaction knowing about the hands that I’ve been dealt one too many times. Yet, at the end of the day, life can’t be lived worrying about who is offended by the thoughts and emotions we have.
What I want from this blog is to share my experiences….both beautiful and ugly. All in the hopes that I can reach out to even just one person who finds any of it relevant, and that it helps them. I spent many years thinking I was alone in much of what I’ve gone through….no one should feel that way. So I’ll be raw and just tell it all like it is. For the most part.
So back to the quote….it hit me hard because I felt like it could’ve been written for me. I was blessed to have a kind, loving father. His mere presence set the highest example of kindness and altruism. Unfortunately, our financial situation required him to work long hours and sometimes weekends. So I spent the majority of my time with my mother.
To this day I believe that she did the best she could to raise me, yet she battled imbalances that kept her from being able to approach marriage and motherhood with a stable outlook. So, I became her emotional caregiver from a very young age.
I was always picking up her pieces and she in turn was always leaning on me emotionally. It should’ve been the other way around, but I didn’t know any better. It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized my friends’ moms were their cheerleaders and their bedrocks.
I had to be my own.
Tough order to fill when no one has taught you these skills…when all you grew up hearing from your primary guardian was that you weren’t good enough, that you weren’t meeting expectations….yet somehow had to dig deep to find out that you actually were.
I had to develop a thick skin early on and an understanding that sometimes water does run thicker than blood. I grew to know that you can choose to surround yourself with friends who would and could become family. To allow people like my aunt and uncle to see the chinks in my armor and let them step in and help me. Although asking for help is still something I abhor and find extremely difficult to do. See, I’m not used to having someone come to my rescue.
I grew up wiping my own skinned knees.
To this day, it’s difficult for me to fully grasp what it must be like to have the kind of relationship so many of my girlfriends have with their mothers. To travel together, spend time together, and have their input and help with weddings, illness, childbirth, divorces….all of the major stuff we all still need our mamas for.
All that emotional stuff.
I did it on my own….and kind of helped her through these moments of mine somehow too, or kept things to myself so as not to overwhelm her.
I’ve had to learn how to reinvent motherhood when I had my own two children. I knew as a child that I wanted to be different with my own kids someday. That they would grow up knowing that I would always have their backs. That they didn’t have to fit into the mold of what I thought the perfect child should be like…that they would never have to take care of me emotionally.
I didn’t want them to walk on eggshells around me. Even with the most supportive of mothers, becoming a parent can be hard….but when you have to carve this new life out without that…..well, you can only imagine. I still don’t know what the hell I am doing half the time….but I know it would’ve been nice to look back on my own childhood and use it as inspiration.
Over the years, I’ve learned to cultivate relationships with people who I admired and found inspiring when it came to every aspect of my life. A small group of friends I consider family. I learned to break the chains of co-dependence (for the most part…work in progress) and not allow myself to be manipulated with drama or threats.
I learned to avoid or gently separate myself from anyone who could not help me grow emotionally, or at least be on the same page. It would not be my job to try and save anyone, or change them. If I wanted to rescue…I’d stick to homeless animals.
I learned a lot about mental health and addiction….and how we end up in relationships that often mirror the ones our parents had. I did a lot of work. “Me” work. I made major life changing decisions.
I still am.
I’m still learning how to ask for help when I need it. Still learning how not to give life to my insecurities. Still trying to understand that maybe those parents who weren’t there for us emotionally really did love us in their own way….they just had their own battles to fight. Still trying to make sense of things….but I guess we all are in different ways. Emotionally supportive upbringing or not.
I just have to say that for those of us who grew up without emotional support from one or both of our parents….we truly are strong and brave. It was sink or swim for us from the very start and somehow we kept treading water no matter how far away the shore was….that elusive land of milk and honey.
We’ve fallen down and gotten back up. Multiple times. We keep going. We don’t leech on to people expecting them to save us…because we’ve been saving ourselves, and others, for as long as we can remember. Staring into the storms head on.
Warriors. Scarred but unbroken.
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