I was having lunch with a good friend this week. On the topic of our parents, we were marvelling to my daughter how “chilled out” our moms are. Now, as Grandmas. This winter, my daughter had a party in our basement. Unbeknownst to me, there were certain activities that transpired.🍺🍺 Surprised when I found out since I was upstairs the whole night, I handled it badly. Got mad. Yelled. 🤦🏻♀️ As I reflect, I am embarrassed by my rash reaction — as opposed to the thoughtful responding I preach.☝🏽 But much of my growth as a person, as a parent is borne out of situations like this, out of self-reflection, out of remembering being a teen. My mom, who would have crucified me at 16 (🤷🏻♀️ well, I had few friends then to even have a party in the basement with, but still…), was so gentle and soothing and calm about it. Who was this woman?
It is often easier to calmly parent the children of others. My best friend, when I told her about said party, reminded me of all of my daughter’s good qualities, and made me feel so much better. 🙏🏽 Looking back, I feel like my parents, then immigrants to this country, in affording basic necessities, making a life, and moving forward, never understood the lives we were living. In our mellowed thinking now, we know that at times their struggles, palpable and numerous, left the tank empty. ⛽️ More commonly, for immigrants the hardships involved in ‘making it’ in a new world -- assimilating, and prospering -- maybe made inner difficulties less important, less seen. Without even realizing it, many of us, the children, kept emotional needs at bay. 😔
💻 In an Instagram poll conducted on this very topic, this question was posed: “Growing up, what do you wish your parents knew you struggled with?”
The responses paint an insightful picture: not fitting in, bullying, wondering why no one liked me, feeling sad, identity, sexuality, self-confidence, body image, being brown, feeling anxious, all the drinking, not liking what I saw when I looked in the mirror, feeling ugly…
The lack of communication in so many families is gut-wrenching. And with maturity, comes understanding. Our parents did not know what we struggled with, and we, stayed quiet. Probably acting out or communicating feelings in other ways — certainly, that’s true for me — or worse, not at all. Indeed, all of this makes for a powerful analysis: perhaps they did not question our conceptual happiness, or even wonder about it, because our parents did not question their own. And so, our mistakes were not acceptable. Our missteps were intolerable.
Today, we are more aware. I KNOW my kids will mess up, and recover, and mess up again. And I cannot react the way I did this winter. Moreover, we CAN define, seek, and create “happiness”. As as we work, balance, and pursue that inner joy, we teach our children to do the same. In essence, we communicate. Today, with all of the knowledge that is afforded us, how can we not? 🤍
Read full article in previous Blog Post:
"The Immigrant Experience & The Necessary Pursuit of Wellness” 🌎
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