I can say here that I am without words to describe the gratitude I feel towards my choices around parenting. I would never dream of asking my children to stop their joy, especially not to make them feel worse! The only reason would be other joy.
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| Corrected Memes |
My father would balk at the fact that the kids get the big TV in the front room (or that there is a TV at all in the front room, actually). It is astonishing how far I have moved from his variety of parenting. My children's joy is contagious, infectious and perfect. It's about me sacrificing without any issue for my children, it's about my *relationship* with my children which takes priority over any other factor. No, my kids don't run rampant over me, or own the place, in fact, they are incredibly polite, helpful, and thoughtful and loving. They have never been told "stop crying, or I'll really give you something to cry about." They have never been laughed at, or taunted, or teased, or tormented or ridiculed. That are not hit, or sent to their rooms (my younger son doesn't even have his own room, he chooses to remain with us because clearly he needs to still).
They have never been sexually assaulted.
They have never been beat up.
They know they are safe.
And, they are extraordinarily good at being my best teachers in the entire universe.
My movement this far from my parents as even a remote possibility is something that never would have crossed their minds. They would interpret my parenting as "permissive" or "too easy" or "not enough hard work." No public schooling. But science bears out my position on this more and more each day. Working a child harder does not make a better person. And it turns off the person the child is supposed to be. And leaves the child second-guessing themselves their whole lives. Whether at school or at home.
How I was schooled left me only a few happy years, and most of the subjects, I've completely forgotten because the abuse and fear was so intense.
I found school soul-crushing, much as John Taylor Gatto describes in his book (available online for free) "The Underground History of American Education." And the soul crushing at home served to reinforce that fear and self-doubt and paralysis.
I have learned that for my children as well, play is far more productive in their ability to learn and function and flourish. School would have crushed their souls, too, and was beginning to until I took them out.
I know that I have already successfully moved away from my parents' paradigm of criticism and judgment into one of unconditional love and mutual respect. And it is deeply satisfying. I am not perfect, but I am mindful, and aware, and I make mistakes which I deeply regret and I tell my children so, and apologize for having screwed up. I am the parent I needed so badly. And that is amazing.
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| Source: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Survivors-of-Child-Abuse/279131948791470 |
Because I come from a narcissistic family and began my parenting journey on that note initially, I must remind myself all the time to remain mindful. To pay attention and when I really can't handle a thing to gently tell my children I need space for mom to chill out for a bit. I think of this often, check my behavior, center myself, ask why I am saying or doing a certain thing, and weigh it against what I experienced, in order to consciously change the way my brain works in relation to my children. In a very real coherent way, they have been hugely responsible for my healing. The fact that they have autism makes them even more sensitive than I am. People say children with autism don't feel empathy. I beg to differ, and in a very big way. They feel *too much* empathy and must shut it down or it becomes physically painful. The relation of their bodies to their minds is even more connected and important to pay close attention to, for the world can be an overwhelming place.
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| Source: https://www.facebook.com/GentleParentingUK |
It is on ME, not them, to find out what their needs are in a given situation, so that we can balance all our needs and I can remain in a respectful place. I do screw up and yell sometimes, but it's the exception, and I always let my kids know I screwed up. They know I am human and make mistakes. They also know they can make mistakes.
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| Source: http://www.facebook.com |
I know I've changed, but I can always get better. I've noticed since writing this a shift in my own feelings when one of my kids comes in with a problem. Instead of wanting to "fix" it, think of solutions and problem solve with them, I wait and listen first. I listen a lot more. And Listen. And no longer open my mouth unless I am asked. How I wish my parents had done the same.
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| Source: http://www.facebook.com |
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| Source: http://www.facebook.com |
In an odd way, I think my father quite literally verbally (and sometimes physically) smacked the possible narcissist out of me. Since I wasn't the Golden Child except for brief periods, I was more often subject to lecture and criticism. Which is why the Adult Children of Narcissistic Parents article resonated with me so deeply.
The truth is, I would never want to be like him. I would never want to be known for having a great sense of humor, writing a bunch of books, and also hurting my children for the rest of their lives. Because from inside, where I was, that is how it went.
Every single day, now, mindfulness remains a primary focus for me. My relationship to my children trumps all other considerations, and respect flows in both directions.
I do not wish to repeat his mistakes, nor my mother's. My children -- all children -- deserve so much better.
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