Thoughts of my parents often pop into my head now that I'm a parent myself. Sometimes I feel a greater connection to them, realizing the worries and insecurities they must have felt while raising my sister, brother, and me -- feelings I now experience with my nearly 2-year-old son. But probably more often, I look back and see their shortcomings and wonder, "What were they doing?"
My parents took good physical and material care of my sister, brother and me. We had a lovely, clean home, pleasant bedrooms, and just enough clothes, toys, and other stuff to make us happy. They were careful not to spoil us. We were fed a healthy diet -- maybe a little meat-heavy, but processed food was pretty rare and junk food, candy, and soda were "special occasion" items, not something we were allowed with any regularity.
But when I look back on my childhood, there is something glaringly missing from the family portrait: a genuine interest in us as developing individuals. My parents weren't interested in playing with us, helping us with our schoolwork, or knowing about the activities that occupied our days. They just weren't paying that much attention to us because they were preoccupied with the drama of their own unhappy relationship.
By the time I was 13 my parents divorced and then their interest really waned, as attentions were splintered off into building new relationships that had nothing to do with their children.
I feel sorry for myself sometimes and get angry at my parents when something triggers a memory of their disinterest and selfishness, or how their support and guidance might have
helped me avoid much of the aimless wandering of my 20's and 30's, the self sabotages, the low self-esteem that led me to sell out on myself in so many ways: socially, sexually, and professionally.
But then I redirect my thought pattern and remind myself that I can't blame my mother and father for my present shortcomings and many of the mistakes that I've made in my life. I have to own them now that I'm well, well into adulthood. Sitting stuck in bitterness toward my parents is totally unproductive and irresponsible.
However, identifying the things I needed but didn't get nearly enough of: support, attention, and direction, IS productive in trying to move forward and implement change in myself. It's also my personal quest and correction as a parent: to pay more attention to my son.
