As I tucked my younger daughter into bed that night, her room was dark, and for what feels like the first time that day, it’s quiet. She reaches over and holds the middle finger of my right hand, like she does every night, as she drifts off to sleep. And in the stillness, familiar thoughts come racing into my mind including, “I wasn’t as patient as I should have been. I think I yelled too much today. I wish I didn’t get so easily frustrated. I will do better tomorrow.” At this point I usually pick up my phone and text my closest mom friends a recap of the day who promptly assure me that I’m a wonderful mom, although this usually does little to decrease my guilt.
I recently read somewhere that when you have children you re-experience your unprocessed childhood trauma at the same ages that your child(ren) currently are. And it couldn’t be truer.
My daughter recently turned 5. She is stubborn, quick-tempered, and lovable. She also struggles with emotional outbursts expressed through episodes of hitting and screaming when anyone dares to tell her no. And when I witness her sobbing to the point of gasping, the total loss of control on her face and in her body, I am immediately transported back to my childhood. And I am equal parts empathetic towards her yet frustrated by her behavior. Her childhood is not comparable to mine on multiple levels, and although our triggers differ, the inability to process feelings and the loss of control is the same. And when I look into her eyes during those moments, I see myself as I was when I was 5 years old.
The sad part is that I’m a grown-up, and still behaving like a child.
I have been in therapy for years dealing with the ramifications of a traumatic childhood. One filled with alternative periods of explosive anger and silent treatment leading to an adult (me) unable to emotionally regulate. Fast forward to today, and now I am a parent and have had no contact with any of my family members for the past 8 years Given my childhood trauma, I have lost track of the number of times that I have used the phrase “I was unprepared for parenthood, and I am ill-equipped to be a parent” during therapy sessions.
A manual for parenthood doesn’t exist, unfortunately. But I think that’s typically when an overwhelmed parent calls their own parents for advice. Helpful advice and nuggets of information would be shared about how their parents handled outbursts, tips for getting the baby to sleep throughout the night, introducing potty training, etc. But when you are estranged, what do you do? Where is my lifeline? How am I expected to handle this all alone?
These are the times I wish I could call my mom. There have been countless times during my journey throughout parenthood when, despite all of the heartache, I wished I could call my mom. “I wish….” I would say during therapy sessions, too afraid and emotional to finish the sentence. “I wish I could ask my mom how she handled countless parenting situations and difficulties. I also wish I could ask her those frivolous questions like if I resembled my daughter when I was younger, if I liked the same foods and played the same games she currently does, if I sang non-stop and told funny stories like her.” There are so many wishes that I have put out into the universe, and sadly, no answers have been returned.
And if you are like me and have a partner that grew up in a stable, loving, two parent household, then you may as well be from two different planets. The lack of understanding and genuine confusion in what you each witnessed as “normal” or “typical” in childhood compounds the challenges of parenting even more so.
You both share the same goal of creating a loving and safe childhood for your child(ren), but you’re both using vastly different frames of reference to get there.
Attempting to parent while healing from and breaking the cycle of intergenerational trauma is not for the faint of heart. It has, without a doubt, been the most difficult task that I have encountered, and I continue to tackle daily with varying degrees of success. For those of you like myself who are estranged, the biggest wish I have for you is to develop a strong sense of confidence while you navigate parenthood. Confidence that although our childhoods may have been tainted, you can single-handedly alter its course for future generations. To give your children the childhood you could only have dreamed of. To watch them blossom into confident, happy, loving, carefree children who will one day fondly recollect their childhoods to their own children with joy.
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