The common saying is so disappointingly true, "you always hurt the one you love."
A lyric by the Mills Brothers referenced in an journal abstract captures it well:
You always hurt the one you love, the one you should not hurt at all;
You always take the sweetest rose, and crush it till the petals fall;
You always break the kindest heart, with a hasty word you can't recall;
So if I broke your heart last night, it's because I love you most of all.
I need to hit the "reset" button; I'm in a rut. I need to find a way to jettison the trained responses of my childhood coupled with the missteps of my adulthood, and chart a new road previously untaken with my kids.
I guess the biggest practice I can think to take each and every day is challenge myself in my most vulnerable moments, and ask: "who am I really angry with?" Nine times out of ten I would venture to say that it's not the kid in front of me.
I may have to revise that assessment when they are teenagers I realize.
Photo by gilesclement
Oh, this is painful to write. I wish I could comment anon, but I'll be brave and write this anyway. Anger. I'm recovering from my shocked memories I'd blocked from childhood.
ReplyDeleteI found my hand twitch to slap and was horrified that this was my knee-jerk reaction. Here I am this person who is yearning with every fiber of my being to create a peaceful world and when confronted with a 3yo working through some big emotions, I'm transformed back into a powerless child with an angry, towering adult above me. I almost grabbed my car keys and left my kids for good, thinking they were better off without me. It was so painful to feel this way about my more-precious-than-my-own-life children. Fortunately, I started seeing a therapist for ppd and while I still have that initial reaction, I know where it comes from and can remember that I am no longer that powerless child. I can change these generations of familial patterns for my kids. They deserve a mom who can be her imperfect best because that is how I can truly love them.