Parenting
Reconciling childhood trauma while being traumatized at the same time.
Let’s be honest, being a parent is brutal. I don’t dislike my kids — I love them on many unhealthy levels — which adds to the traumatization. I’ve had a lot of challenges in my life — I have not lived a charmed life as they say. But as a white woman raised by working class parents — nothing compares to the hardships of other families, especially non-white families who face economic struggle paired with racial injustice and extreme inequality, which includes fearing for the safety of themselves and their children on a daily basis. I needed to make that clear, because there is nothing worse than a person of privilege whining and complaining about their place in the world.
But we all struggle in very particular ways — and in order to understand ourselves better we must explore those feelings, and sometimes our only reference point is ourselves.
Parenting has, by far, been my biggest challenge. I have dealt with childhood trauma, fractured parental relationships, sibling drama, neglect, drug addiction, betrayal, love triangles, cheating, lying, and abuse — and all before the age of 25. I have been poor, on food assistance, homeless, without utilities, jobless, and carless. I’m not looking for a badge of honor, your sympathy, or a pat on the back for working my way through all those struggles into a middle class lifestyle. My point is…raising little people is the most stressful thing I have ever endured.
This realization fits in two compartments— it brings up all the shit I dealt with as a child and young adult and adds the responsibility of raising good humans in a time when things look grim. If you pay attention at all (I try not to) to current events you will develop a sinking feeling inside of your gut that things ain’t good, and there is high probability that they won’t get better.
I spent $350 for an hour with a psychologist — I was primarily focussed on discussing my recent decision to start an SSRI for the very first time, all the yucky and incredibly uncomfortable side effects, dosage concerns, and longterm goals. But she did ask a couple questions about my childhood. Divorce? Relocation? Strangers becoming your new daddy(s)? Yes, she was just starting to scratch the surface. Then she said something to me that was worth the price of her telehealth call — she explained to me that I grew up on shaky ground, not ever feeling secure or safe, always feeling like the ground was shifting beneath me. It has caused a lifetime of feeling barely tethered — unstable, and out of control. Ok yes, that makes sense, now what? Continue taking a small dose of Lexapro every morning for the rest of your life and everything will be fine.
That’s where we landed, and honestly — it’s helping. Along with a reduction in alcohol use, more walks in the afternoon, and the general knowledge that (especially during the pandemic) we are all struggling, life is messy, let it go, and try to have fun — I am feeling better than say a year ago, or 5 years ago, or 14 years ago (when my first was born). But goddamn, being a parent is brutal (did I already say that?). It continues to bring up all the crap I went through growing up, and the deep desire to do everything differently than my parents.
This new knowledge and realization about my childhood has helped me to understand why I often feel like I’m about to come undone. I’ve struggled with crippling anxiety and panic disorder for most of my life. But it got real bad this past year — causing me to desperately grasp for coping and stress management tools (including the unhealthy ones), ultimately landing me in the office of my GP to discuss meds. I write about it a bit here. 5mg of Lexapro every morning has been a game changer for me. I went through hell getting there though, messing up my dosage and enduring all of the google-able side effects. But I feel like I have stabilized and although I still have mountains of stress and anxiety, it doesn’t feel like I’m about to break into a million pieces.
The struggle continues — genes are strong, learned behavior is a bitch, and bad habits don’t die easily.
I love my kids — to the deepest, darkest depths. Parenting is kicking my ass though. And as much as I try to hide my parenting insecurities from them, I also want them to know that I am a human with soft squishy insides, and sometimes I struggle too. But even though you want to share that vulnerability with them, you still have to drop the anchor and be the grounding support that you never had, and that they need so badly. This is the nut of the issue. I know that someday they will grow up, move away, create their own families and relationships. Will I be the reason they are in therapy? Will the guilt of my imperfect parenting haunt me forever, or create disfunction in their lives? Will we be friends? Will they understand and have compassion for me?
I really hope so, because I’m just an imperfect person doing the best I can.
*I am an open book about my journey with taking an SSRI — please reach out to me with any questions. It is so important to take away the stigma and create space for conversation and healing*
