We were young, though I don’t remember just what kid age. I was younger than 12, which was when the fourth one of us was born. We were headed to Florida in the only style our parents could afford: driving, pulling a pop-up camper behind the car. We were headed to Disney World, though I cannot recall one single memory from being at Disney World or even in Florida.
I remember two things about that trip: our father dropped the camper on his foot while we were parked in a motel parking lot. I have no idea how the trip progressed after that, but I do recall him being mad and injured.
Our father was mad a lot when we were kids. I always marvel at people who tell stories of a dad who was engaging and kind and inquisitive. A father who expressed love and pride. I always wonder what that felt like, how different life was for the person who had that experience.
The other thing I remember from that trip is the time we were in a restaurant, ordering dinner and all three of us kids wanted chocolate milk. For some reason the detail of the waitress yelling into the kitchen, “Hey (name) we got enough chocolate for three chocolate milks?” is absolutely lodged, superglued in my memory bank.
I have no idea what the answer was, whether or not us kids got our chocolate milk that night. Most all of the memories from most of my childhood have vanished, which I believe is a good thing.
We weren’t harmed in our childhood in the conventional ways; we weren’t neglected or physically abused. We had enough to eat, we had a home to sleep in. But there was a paucity of affection and a vast open wasteland when it came to engagement from the ‘rental units. Our father set the bar high for us kids, but there was no loving familial infrastructure to help us get there. We expect great things from you kids, but we will not be expressing love or pride, nor will we show you how to do these things we expect from you. Good luck with that!
It’s only now, in my late 50’s, looking back that I can see just how horrible the situation was. How lost I felt most of the time, until well into my adulthood. I really didn’t understand the world or how to navigate most of it. I dated so many versions of my dad, I can’t believe I finally made it to a decent, healthy relationship. I tripped and fell so many times it’s a miracle I’m still walking.
To be clear, I don’t blame my parents or anyone else, really. They had no guidance when they were growing up and limited exposure to the world. They did what they could with what they had, which is all we’re all ever doing when we have kids (and when we don’t). Parenting is such a wingding shitshow anyway, no one really ever knows what the hell they’re doing. I realize now, on the eve of launching my third into the wider world, all we’re ever doing is trying to keep them alive, hoping they gathered a few skills and some confidence along the way and then fingers crossed tight when they head out. And if we’re a decent human with a modicum of humility, what comes next is lots and lots of I’m sorry! as they grow into adulthood and become something closer to a peer.
I don’t know what triggered the chocolate milk memory this morning. Memorial Day activities, maybe. The Great American picnic scene, people heading out on the road in search of a decent vacation, I guess. I’d post some photos from back then but I’m not at home where the back-up drive filled with pics is. Use your imagination. I wore bell bottoms, probably from Sears. I looked like your typical bewildered kid in the 70s.
Today I’m here:
Dreamy, I know. My new workspace. I guess maybe all that holding the bar high paid off in some ways? Not sure. I wonder how much we bring into this world with us and how much our parents give us. I have a good work ethic, but maybe I would have anyway. I’m doing work I love and living a nice life, but that might have all been pre-ordained. Who knows?
I do think this, though. You know how sometimes on a screen, like on a TV or sometimes a computer there’s a residual of an image that happened before? I’m not sure I can explain this well. It could be a trick of the eyes, or it might have to do with the technology. But sometimes you see what happened already and for a moment it obscures the new image. I think that when we stay fixated on something from the past it plays out like that. If we hold the image, the memory, too long, it gets in the way of the new thing. If we cannot release all the lousy shit that happened in the past, there’s no way we can live in peace in the present. There has to be a clear screen for the beautiful imagery of this day to be seen and appreciated. Everyone’s parent harmed them on one way or another. Everyone suffered in their childhood. Everyone has been traumatized in some way, but if that becomes the defining story of your adulthood, then you’re wasting your precious time here on Planet Earth.
Look back in anger, look back in humor, look back but don’t keep looking back. The one thing, the main thing you don’t want to do is carry forward the transgressions of the generation before. No doubt you’ll create plenty of your own! No need to keep the family drama on repeat. This is evolution, this is the goal. Do better. Release, forgive and do better.
When I look back now I can only think, our poor parents, married very young, clueless (first kid came nine months and one day after their wedding), both lacking in healthy family support of their own, neither one able to pursue any dreams or ambitions, just living to provide for their kids. It couldn’t have been much fun, there was so little help or wiggle room.
In the spiritual narrative to which I subscribe we choose our parents and the timing and place of our birth. Once our soul (fragment) is ready to return to learn some new lessons, we work with our guides to determine the optimal circumstances for the soul work we need to do in our next incarnation. Thus, we have agreed to the whole thing ahead of time, and doesn’t that put a new spin on the blame game? If nothing else, it give me a lot to think about. Why would I have chosen these particular circumstances, with little guidance and support? Did I come here already hardwired to guide myself? Have I always had what I needed to make it through this life? If so, what have my parents taught me simply by virtue of being themselves? Was my dad a brother I wronged in another incarnation and this go-round was payback time?
Maybe. I’m willing to entertain a maybe here.
No neat string tie-up for you this morning, I’m headed out to plant some stuff in the garden. All I really ever want to do is open a thinking channel. I have no answers, only experience. I hope some of what I say gives you something to think about.
Separate from all of that, a quick note on a different subject: I’m in conversation with two amazing folks here. Collectively we have a lot of experience across the spectrum of death and dying: hospice care, death doula training, hospital chaplaincy, spiritual care, funeral services and mediumship. We are in the early stages of developing a Q + A open forum kind of situation with the goal of helping as many people as possible transform their fears when it comes to end of life and beyond.
Please raise your hand if this is something you’d be interested in.
peace all, cheers and thanks Vets,
xomo
Now from Pam. I think growing up we all thought we were in it alone. As we got older we found that so many others of our generation had the same upbringing. Parents that we’re prepared to parent and had no idea how to do it. My Dad thinking he would have a professional golf career found himself in the Navy fighting a war in the South Pacific. Married before he shipped out, my sister born 9 months later.
Not until the grandkids started to arrive did we get to experience the emotions we were denied in our childhoods, my sisters and I. My parents adored their grandkids. A gift that we are able to recognize the shortcomings and forgive. They did the best they knew how to do.
Great blog today. Plant those flowers and get lost in this beautiful day!
BTW, raising both our hands for your workshop. 😘
This is Meri...I so completely resonate with these memories of your childhood and the impact it carries forward as we navigate life as adults. My parents were ill equipped to be parents and as a result really did a number on all 4 of us...but , like you, I’ve managed to see things from a “higher” perspective and not fallen into the blame game. I also have always believed that we pick our parents for the lessons we need to learn from one another and that in all likelihood we have traveled through many incarnations as a family soul group. I chose not to become a parent in this lifetime , but I’ve screwed up plenty of other relationships in my life as I didn’t have any normal or healthy role models. Learning as I go, best we can all expect from ourselves ....