Today’s blog topic stems from a discussion during the car ride convo (that took place a couple weeks ago now, but is still relevant). Please note the following during this: I will be speaking in generalities as our relationships with one or both of our parents vary from individual to individual even among siblings; and any similarities between your experiences and the ones to follow are purely coincidental.
As little ones our first role models about pretty much everything come from Mom and Dad (or whomever the caregivers were that assumed those roles in your early life). It is more than likely that the the initial foundation (regardless of whether it was a rock solid one or built of shifting sand upon a fault line) for our actions and reactions as we grew older and more mature can be traced directly back to how one or both of our parents acted and reacted (role-modeled) for us.
I am not using the term role-model in the sense that you have reflected upon the positives and negatives of a person (or several people) and chosen to try and emulate them in style, presentation, achievement, or what have you. These were conscious choices. No, this is the more basic role-modeling of adopting and adapting to the world around by how you see the primary caregiver(s) do it during the concrete (Black & White) thinking stage, and as we begin to move into the abstract thinking stage inhow we perceive the overt and the covert messages of what our “role model” thinks of us as well as the implied and expressed expectations they have for us.
I have a large and wonderful family filled with many amazing people. A few are challenging, to me, because of life choices or certain views and those relationships can be tenuous because of it. Some of those people are family not by my choice (marriages and such), some are family because I did make a choice (friends and intimate relationships). I say this to help you understand that I am not discounting the love and support of all the people who have had some hand in making me who and what I am today by any of what I have to say from here on. I am grateful for all that they are and all that they do in being a part of my life.
I basically grew up an only child. I had an older brother who lived with the family when I was very young, but as I became more mobile and therefore more difficult to keep an eye on since I didn’t remain in one place, my brother was placed in various facilities to care for him. I have no recollections of the time when he lived under the same roof as I.
The special needs and very apparent physical disabilities of my brother was something my father took as an affront by God to him. It has been, until within these last few years, a nigh on impossible task for him to talk about my brother, let alone want to see him. While I was subconsciously hyper aware of this, and consciously grew to see it, I was not aware just how fundamentally it affected me until later in life.
My dad was not one to hold his temper or his tongue. He expressed anger very well, and he told you exactly what he thought of you. Tact and constructive criticism weren’t things he used. Yet, I looked up to him. I regarded him as my role-model, both from that young child mind and later as someone whom I did want to emulate. Consciously I knew there were certain things he did/had done, that I hoped not to take up the torch for, but... Yeah, you know what I mean, that, however, comes later.
I could fly into a rage at the drop of hat. I spoke my mind even if it wasn’t in my better interests to do so. Being a bit of a loner and an outsider, I didn’t mind the fallout too much, except for the probable corporal punishment that might be due. Sadly, you learn that when you do start wanting to have and keep friends, being bluntly honest is a great asset to a point, but you have to become better with the words that help and less adept at the ones that wound. As for rage; well, when you begin to scare even yourself at your level of unbridled anger...it is time to do something new. Especially when the something you were doing now was to just swallow all of the difficult and scary emotions which only led to even uglier outbursts.
Don’t get me wrong he taught me a lot of good things, as well. Just not how to deal with emotions or to believe in myself.
As I noted above my brother was physically incapable of doing anything for himself. Which also meant that whatever aspirations, hopes, and expectations my dad had for his eldest child were not going to be fulfilled. So, along comes the new son, and all those expectations for the eldest now fell upon the youngest, along with whatever expectations were had for me.
For the most part I was a pretty good kid. I did well in school (until my parents divorced, and I quit taking school as seriously). Yet, if I didn’t do as well as dad, and later my step dad too, thought I should have, I was berated, belittled and punished (not disciplined though I’m sure that was the intent) for my failure. While I wasn’t a jock in any sense of the word, the scene in The Breakfast Club where Andrew (Emilio Estevez) is talking about his dad giving him a “pep” talk is reminiscent (but then so were John and Brian’s family descriptions in their own way).
I struggled to live up to those expectations. I felt no matter how well I did do, it wasn’t enough. I pushed myself hard and still didn’t seem like it was enough. I wasn’t enough. Every choice I made, every thing I achieved, weren’t enough.
The day I came to realize all that was a day of a near re-birth. So, not having this extra weight becomes a catalyst to think. And thinking leads to me writing this.
Our parents have shaped, and for some twisted us into what we are and who we became. Being a dad myself, I get it. I get that we have high hopes and dreams for them. I get that we want them to be The King or Queen of the World. Yet, while we do all these things and it is from love (hopefully) that we push them for success in the things they do, ultimately we have to be proud of who and what they become even if it means they didn’t become a doctor or lawyer or a CEO or the President of the United States.
Attempting to live vicariously through them for whatever our reasons can be the worst thing we can do when it is our dreams we are attempting to fulfill and not the things that they themselves are dreaming of. When Ethan Hawke’s character in Dead Poet Society tries to tell his parents what his dream is and they shut him down unequivocally, he cannot see himself in that future and ends up making a most terrible choice. While I’m not suggesting that this is going to be the outcome, suppressing our kids dreams because of our own pride is a horrible crime in its own way even if it isn’t something that can get you put in jail.
It is hard to not want your child or children to go on and attain certain things that you did, and even harder for us as parents to want them to attain things we didn’t, when they are in certain time/age limited events (high school, college, athletics, academics, etc). But it is best that we are not disappointed in them if they don’t achieve those things because it was OUR dream for them, and not their own, nor if they do achieve that goal, should we steal the glory and honor that is theirs because it was that glory and honor we sought and didn’t achieve when it was our chance to do so.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that you shouldn’t do what you believe is an appropriate amount of pushing your child to achieve their best. It has to be THEIR best though. Not what you were able to accomplish. Not what you had hoped you could achieve when you were that age or in those groups or events that they are now participating in.
Thanks for perusing. I hope it sparked some interest. Comments and debate are as always welcomed.
Til next time...
