Ponderings from your lost daughter.
A Musing About Grieving The Parents You Wanted and Never Had
*This post was originally sent as a Bonus post to my paid subscribers as I was not quite ready, in this context, to share all of these thoughts with my mother and father. I have since removed the paywall so it is accessible to all readers.
Not really in light of our recent American holiday, Father’s Day, I’m sharing this mostly because I wrote it a couple of months ago, am proud of my writing and felt inspired to share it, knowing both my mother and father are not paid subscribers to this publication.
This piece is potentially controversial, snippy, and definitely written from a place of deep hurt, expressed with fierceness and what I’m wrestling with as to whether or not this is actually what I believe about my parents. This is a mere snippet of my thoughts and experiences.
Thank you for reading and allowing me to share deeper pieces of my writing here. This piece was in part inspired by the internal processing I am diligently doing while I continue to heal.
My hope is that if you relate in any way, you feel validated and heard. Your story matters. Your pain matters. Your healing matters.
P.S. - I also removed the paywall from the audio recording of this post, so it’s now free to all, scroll to bottom to listen :)
Ponderings from your lost daughter.
Aren't there prerequisites that turn a father into a dad?
The same could be said for mothers. But dads and moms seem to think they earn their title by conception alone. There should be rules. Well maybe not rules, I don’t much care for too many rules. So let’s call them milestones; measurable a bit like rules, but with more autonomy and flexibility.
We need some way to measure whether or not a parent is anything more than just a group of fertile atoms reproducing offspring without their consent. Because none of us had the choice to be born. We’re here because a couple of older humans decided to have sex and not abort us. It sounds harsh when you put it like that, doesn’t it? Crass or ungrateful even. I’m not here to share my ingratitudes, I’m here to bring awareness to a real issue, albeit often hiding in the ambiguous shadows of titles like mom and dad.
Too many people feel entitled to what’s not theirs. And it’s damaging. When a mother believes she’s a mom and very clearly is not a mom, she engages in what I like to call fraud. This fraud creates the illusion in the mother that she is acting as a mom would. Incorrect.
Would a mom kick her daughter out just weeks before high school graduation with nowhere to live because they got into a fight? No. Would a mom blame her young daughter for said mom’s boyfriend breaking up with her? No. Would a mom marry a man they all barely knew who her children didn’t like and then physically abuse his son? No. But a mother could. Because a mother isn’t bound by the moral obligation of love. Of being a mom.
There’s no motivation for change - for growth, for betterment - when one believes they are better than they are.
The same could be said for fathers.
Would a dad clench his 7 year old daughter's face in one hand while prodding his pointer finger of his other hand into her chest while he berated her for something she didn’t even understand was wrong? No. Would a dad choose work and a new life and new wife 3000 miles away over his daughter? No. I’m actually out of examples here because I barely know my father. Because he was only a father. Never a dad.
I get it. This may sound subjective. Because you’re only getting my side of the story. To be clear, I’m not talking about that mistake that was made and repaired. Or even a series of mistakes throughout parenthood. Everyone messes up.
What I am talking about are chronic failings. The kind that result in those children growing to spend tens of thousands of dollars (or more) on mental health and medical treatment to recover (or on the flip side, make a series of decisions that leads to 2.5 years in prison). This type of healing doesn’t have an arrival date or medal at the end when you break through the ribbon after your marathon. Because there are too many marathons with blurry lines that sometimes feel like you’re finished. But you never are. You never are…
Of course, we cannot blame all things on our childhoods nor our parents. And I take full responsibility for some poor choices I have made in my own life. And also, I have to recognize where I wasn’t at fault. To be able to separate myself from what I’ve done from what has happened in my life. Nine year old girls don’t sneak out of their bedroom windows because they feel safer outside alone in the dark, for no reason.
Because the terms father and mother really just mean - or should mean - the biological connection between one human and their offspring. As a society, we’ve gone and jumbled the English language. Now everyone’s confused. And that’s not helpful. Because mothers and fathers are not inherently moms and dads.
So these frauds. They’re all around us. They could be your sister or your uncle or your neighbor down the street. They could be your co-worker you exchange parenting tips with or get bamboozled by the cute photo on their revolving screensaver of their kid dressed up like a ninja-saur (ninja dinosaur, of course). They could be your mother or father, or both. They could be you.
Am I lost? Yes. Sort of. Not as much as I used to be.
Am I offended by the terms mom and dad as they relate to my mother and father? Yes. Mostly. More than I used to be.
In an email a few years ago I told my dad I never had one.
For years I avoided using the term in any communication with him. Today, I use it sparingly hesitantly.
We’re getting somewhere new. It’s called healing.
The phrase, “They did their best” is often used in the context of consoling now adult children as they reflect on the ways their parents fucked them up. I believe many people, in fact, do their best, yes. We are molded by our environments, our upbringings, our traumas, our parents, and cultures, etcetera etcetera. And we are limited by these things, too. But only to a certain extent. Let me explain.
It takes great courage to look at your past, the tools you were born with and given along the way (or lack thereof), to grow from them. To heal from them. It takes great courage to take a proper assessment of self as an adult and realize the ways you want to be better, do better. Courage is not a limitation. It is a choice.
There are those of us who choose courage. Who choose to look at themselves, the way they treat themselves and the world and everyone around them, and think, I like these things about myself, and these right here are my values, and hmm, maybe those areas could use some attention; I’m not really behaving in a way that benefits anyone, really.
We all have these things about us, some of us call them different things. Whether they are inherent traits or skills, or learned behaviors or whatever whatever. Semantics.
If you’re still tracking, the point here is that some mothers and fathers did not do their best. I believe my mother had the capacity to make different decisions, better decisions, and chose not to. Because it’s easier not to. It’s easier to drown your stress with cigarettes, short skirts and sex. It’s harder to face yourself and the reality that you have two young children and decide to read with them in bed at night instead of going on a date with yet another new strange man on a weeknight, leaving your young kids home alone.
I believe my father had the capacity to make different decisions, better decisions, and chose not to. Because it’s easier to focus on work and make the money and detach yourself from the responsibility of your groins. It’s harder to be a dad everyday, facing a small human who needs you, a lot of you, and it’s hard not to have a complete outburst when they spill water on the floor again.
So what’s the difference between a father and a dad? What turns a mother into a mom? Courage.
The kind of courage that can only be defined by the love with which only a mom or dad envelops their child. Micro decisions that create an environment where a child can grow and thrive and learn and fail and get back up again. Choices that create the safety of a relationship where a child can go out and explore and experiment, and come back home for solace and support. A courage that breeds a home that feels like home.
This lost daughter has chosen courage.
The kind of courage that can only be defined by the love with which she lets herself feel and be and heal. Micro decisions that create an environment where she can grow and thrive and learn and fail and get back up again. Choices that create the safety within herself where she can go out and explore and experiment, and return to her inner self for solace and support. A courage that breeds a home that feels like home.
Because I’m reparenting myself. Because I’m worth it. Because I choose love.
Want more unsolicited opinions? Read my musings here!
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What is your experience with family, your parents? How does this sit with you? Be honest, I probably won’t be offended, and if I am, that’s my own stuff to process. I’d love to make this space open for all thoughts, feelings and opinions as long as they are shared respectfully (no shaming, name calling or saying rude/mean things - be kind).