Parenting and Reparenting

My step-daughter was visiting recently over the holidays.   She is in her mid-twenties and has recently launched into her full-fledged professional career.   She is an amazing human being.  Sure, I'm biased but I am also far from being alone in holding her in high regard.   Along with my enjoyment in hanging out with her over the holidays  I have also felt some wistfulness.   Actually,  quite a bit.

What I feel wistful about is seeing the platform she is working from and comparing it to the one I had as a young adult.   The two are very different.   

 I had, in many ways,  poor parenting as a child.   I always knew my mom loved me.   I still know today that she loves me very much.   But her capacity to be a good parent was very low.   She had received poor parenting herself.   She was a single mom working a professional job.   She had an untreated mental illness of which she was unaware.  In fact,  one of the symptoms of bipolar is being  unaware of even having an illness,  no matter what kinds of strange behaviors pop out.  

Not exactly a recipe for parenting success.

I happen to be married to a woman who is way above average as a parent.   We have been a couple for more than a decade now and so I have had a front row seat as she has parented her two daughters.   It's both wonderful and painful.  On the one hand I am part (and important contributing member) of a successful family.   I define success in that we are all doing well,  we get along well with each other,  and we all are at least reasonably happy.   The painful side,  naturally,  is that I am all-too aware of all the gaps in my own upbringing.    Gaps which continually shake my confidence and sense of self-worth.

Before I go any farther I will answer a question that some of you are likely thinking of right now:  "Has my wife re-parented me?"   That is to say,  has she provided the family context that I never had growing up,  and am I able to fill in some of those gaps?   The answer is yes.   

And what are those gaps?   First of all,  it's really hard to get a handle on it because it pertains to countless experiences I had as a child.   Experiences which gradually formed significant parts of my personality,  basic behavior and thinking patterns which I carry with me today.     This blog continues to help me become aware of said patterns,  allowing me to change some of those which clearly don't serve me.

But the patterning goes back into early childhood and spans all the years I lived at home.    A primary theme is that there was never anyone who was tuned into my feeling life.   My mom provided for my physical needs and she wanted to be a parent who provided for emotional needs.  She just didn't know how.   And the illness meant that she was not aware of the deficit.    Without the mental illness I think she would have at least  been more aware of which of my needs were being met and which were not.

So from the get-go my mom was not really tuned into my inner life at all.   And because she tended strongly towards the manic side of life she could talk.  A lot.  If being narcissistic means always bringing the topic of conversation back to you,  then my mother is narcissistic.

In my blog I have talked about how I created a survival mechanism from the time I was about six years old.   Its name could be "Support mom at all costs".   What this meant was that I was emotionally supporting her from an early age.   Good parenting means that the adult is supporting the child and is tuned into the child's inner life.   She knows if the child is having a good or bad day.  She knows when to give advice,  when to ask questions until the truth of something comes forth.    When to talk and when to listen.  She knows how important it is to spend time with the child and to always be inwardly looking for the spark of who the child is essentially;  the part which has nothing to do with the experiences the child has had since birth.

These basic mental habits of a good parent I have seen up close and personal as I watch my wife parent her kids.   I have seen what good parenting looks like when the child is four and she is twenty-four.    I have seen the daily conversations,  the step-by-step support and care that produces the results we all love to see.   Good parenting requires a very deep level of empathy.   

As a child I would have greatly benefited from someone "seeing" me.  Someone who was tuned in to my needs and feelings.    I could have brought problems I had at school,  with friends, in the neighborhood and gotten help solving or at least understanding them.   A parent could have explained things to me in a way that I could understand.   They could have listened to me.   And when I spoke they could have listened deeply and asked questions to try and understand what I was saying and what the meta-message might have been behind what I was saying.

As a teenager someone could have empathized with my experience of adolescence,  the joys,  the storms,  the conundrums.   Again,  the person could have explained things to me to help me orient to how things work in the world.   They could have shared their personal experiences insofar as they could be helpful and instructive to me.   They could have comforted me and reminded me that the teen-age years don't last forever.

As I came into adulthood they could have shared with me what it means to be an adult.     What the workplace is like.  What are some of the options,  the lay of the land,   in figuring out one's career.     What's it like to fall in love and have a successful relationship.   What are the elements of being a good friend and being a good partner.

The parent could have seen how I was becoming an adult and given me the space to grow into that while maintaining a loving and supportive connection.   As that process developed,  we could have found a mature,  adult relationship as parent and child.   We could have depended on each other like good friends,  respecting boundaries and enjoying the simple pleasure of being in the other's presence.   As the parent aged I could have been there to support knowing that there was no unfinished business,  no deeply held resentments,   that all of the painful experiences had been talked about and worked through.   All that is left is pure connection and appreciation.

To be a good parent is very, very difficult.   People don't realize how difficult it is.     To be a great parent is really a high art.   Few people are able to achieve that level.   In my opinion,  my wife is a great parent.  What I have described above is something she has been and continues to create with her two children.  It is a massive amount of work,  something to which a person must devote a significant part of their life to in order to be successful.   

I have seen how such a level of parenting creates a platform on which the child stands as she steps into the wider world.   That's when I sometimes feel a bit wistful.     I wonder who I might have become if I had had strong parenting.   But that's a different life.   It's not my life.  And it's really pretty pointless to dwell on it.   So I won't.

Here's where I get to say how lucky I am.   I really am quite lucky.    Given the facts of my childhood,   my adult life could have been a lot bumpier than it's been so far.     My path of healing has been relatively  steady and fruitful.    My life has been been much easier than for either of my parents.   I count my blessings regularly.   And I also give myself a break.   When my internal voice comes up critical and points to my shortcomings I just tell myself "relax, kid--you're doing pretty well all things considered."   

 We need,  as ACMIs,  to be able to see our progress from the perspective of the platform we were given.     It is not an excuse to engage in self or other-destructive behaviors.   It's just that we need to be gentle with ourselves,  and remind ourselves of our successes (even small ones),   as we work to create a positive outlook on life. Forgiving myself allows me to keep my head up and see how I can further transform my pain.   As I do so I will be increasingly able to help others.   And that is what makes me really happy.

I have decided to apply to social work school.   It is clear to me that  part of my path is to develop the issues I talk about in the blog;  to place them near the center of my life rather than at the periphery.    Working as a social worker I hope to find a work-place where I can reference my family history and not be seen as a freak.    I hope to help others who have dealt with similar kinds of issues as I have.   Given the healing work that I have already done,   I think I'll be able to empathize with and help others who have been touched by mental illness.   This feels like the right move.

Your comments are welcome.

Warmly, Ben