Growing up, I admired the adults in my life and looked up to them. I thought they were amazing and they were. But as I got older and gained more life experience, I realized that my rose-coloured lenses were fogging my vision.
As an adult, I see many adults coping and healing from their childhood traumas. Realizing that life was not as wonderful as they thought. Learning that those who they believed were guarding them were just trying to get by. Get by to pay their bills, meet the expectations of others and provide for their children. As a child of immigrants, I witnessed how hard my parents worked and they did work hard. But in the process of surviving, my siblings and I had to fend for ourselves. Don’t get me wrong, we always had a parent around, they were always there physically. But were they emotionally present? I think they did their best, and I don’t want to take away their effort, but they were not emotionally there to support us. My siblings and I had to ‘figure it out’. Maybe that’s why all 4 of us siblings are A type personalities. We know how to survive. It was a skill we learned from years of picking ourselves up.
As I write this, I can’t help but reflect on my dad’s childhood. Losing his own father at 17 and having to step up with his brother to help his family. Being forced to grow up too soon, only to be later judged by ungrateful family members who will never fully appreciate what it means to be alone in a country to shut down a business your own father built from scratch and move your family to another country for a better life. I can’t imagine the emotional impact that it would have on a person, and the lasting trauma that it would cause. How does one survive that? By putting one foot in front of the other. That’s how.
But that experience would change you.
I grew up with parents who were often sick. My father more than my mother. It was hard to see. It was hard to live through seeing your father too ill to get out of bed. I still remember the days when I only saw him when he came to the dinner table and then he struggled to walk back to his room. The smell of the Chinese medicines that he cooked on the stove. He had been told that he had a short time to live. But he fought through so that his older children would not have to face the same challenges he did, to support ungrateful younger siblings. And he survived. He made it.
As an adult, and a parent to young children, I now realize the strength you need to survive. Even with good jobs that pay well, you still have to fight every day. Fight for yourself and do your best. But I need to do better. Growing up, I did not have the luck of having parents who were emotionally available. And I need to learn how to be emotionally available. I admit that this is my biggest weakness. I have done a lot of work on myself in my adult years to grow, and I keep working. But I am not where I should be. This morning, I screamed at my son because he did not want to get ready for school. He wanted me to change his clothes. And I got so frustrated. I was angry that he did not take the initiative to change his own clothes. He can do it. He started crying and I left him in his room to cry. I came back 15 minutes later and he was still sitting on the floor, in his PJ’s. I was so angry. I gave up and changed his clothes for him, but I was so angry. I kept saying ‘do you know how much I have to do every morning to get you to school? Don’t you understand how much work I have?’ I was venting my frustrations on him. I was expecting him to take care of himself, so I could take care of myself. But I’m the parent. Adult me is the result of someone who has had to ‘figure everything out herself’, and I don’t want that for my kids. I want them to know that I am there for them whenever they need. I need to change. I have to grow for them and become more emotionally available. I have felt terrible all day. Because it’s not my son’s responsibility to cater to my feelings and needs. It’s my responsibility to help him. So, after he went to school, I went to his room, and I installed a clothing hook. He can pick what he wants to wear the night before and get it ready. And in the morning, he can put on the clothes that he picked without needing me to pick them for him. And he doesn’t have to deal with my emotions. That’s my job. And I am going to give him the tools to help him be the best version of himself.
I don’t want to let him down by constantly having him manage ‘mumma in survival mode’. I understand that changing habits and patterns is not easy. A lot of work is needed to heal from childhood wounds and to become more aware of how my words and actions are impacting my children. Listening more and yelling less is a goal to strive for.
I am counting down the hours till he comes home from school so that I can apologize to him. Because I have to do better.
— xoxo Sandy
The Inner Workings of My Thoughts 