Tragic Past, or Comedic Present?

I closed my week in Jamaica with a shot of steroids in my ass. I had fluid in my ears and was told by the doctor post intimacy that I needed to extend my trip by a day to let my ears heal before getting on a plane.

I've been struggling for a week on a very, very sad song about my childhood and how it has dominated my relationships with men. The shot in my ass gave me the necessary comedic perspective to finish this piece and let it go.

On the plane, 8 days ago, flying towards Montego Bay, I was struck by an image of my face over the past couple of decades, scanning various crowds for a man to love me. It's been an intensely driven search. I have been grasping (gasping even sometimes) for sustenance without being able to identify what will fulfill me.

The article I was reading on the plane by Martha Beck encouraged me to examinine my motivations. I did so and came to the sickening certainty that I've been looking for men who have some or all of the characteristics of my father so I can beg them to love me the way I should have been loved as a child.

My father was cruel and elusive for all the years I lived close to him. He was inconsistent, unreliable, dishonest, and stingy with his approval.  I have taken any one of these qualities as necessary evils from every man for whom I've had feelings. Not so shockingly, I have not convinced these metaphorical fathers to embrace role play and help me change my past. Instead, I am divorced from a sweet man, single, and fabulous at attracting cruel men.

I am 37 years old and I want to stop this aching search and just breathe a little.  Bill Cunningham requoted in his great documentary, "he who seeks beauty will find it". I have been blessed with a rainbow of intoxicating experiences: my kids, friends, business, travel... Sadly, these blessings have been met by this painful need to fill the black hole of my childhood neglect. I'm capable of giving so much love, but I've not been able to receive it in return because it isn't what I've been looking for.

I recognize, now, that I didn't even want these men to be real partners and lovers, I just wanted to feel like an adored child. I wanted doses of adoration with a nasty desperation that pushed aside any real experiences as they were happening to me.

This single-minded pursuit has limited my life.

Can I stop? Can I seek beauty instead? Can I let go of my childhood and accept that although it was bereft of healthy love from my parents, I am no longer a child and there are other things I can experience to nourish and heal me? Can I let go of the pain of growing up with the parents I had and accept that neither has any power in my life anymore except in how I choose to live?

I pray that I have the resolve to seek beauty, in myself, and rejoice in how stunning I am.  I pray for this realization to make it impossible for me to remain in the presence of men who will not bring me joy.  I pray to understand what it means to be protective of my beauty and shield it from the dark things attracted to its light. I pray to see myself as my true admirers do, and have flashes of how God sees me.

I pray also to receive the gifts of love and beauty that God has been giving me to fill in the hole of being neglected by my parents. The biggest gift I've been given, of course, is my kids. They came to me broken, also neglected, in need of so much love and stability. I thank God for creating this new crazy family within which we all can heal.

This is my last day in Jamaica, I leave this gorgeous hotel in just a few hours. I believe that I can break the pattern of trying to change my past. I'm going to put myself in the water now and let the ocean do what it always has, hold and surround me with its infinite love and wisdom.

Momcentric

I went through a rough time November to February. Without realizing it, becoming a mom and properly caring for Yusef and Hanni triggered a lot of sadness I didn't know I still carried from the neglect of my childhood. I was working so hard to give the kids honesty and unconditional love, restore the ground under their feet, that I barely felt when the foundation of my own childhood started to crack and crumble, breaking through the make-shift patches I'd used over the years to keep myself together. I cried a lot, snapped at the boys for being teenagers, stopped writing as much, and still thought I was doing a good job of keeping my misery from the kids. It worked for a little while. They continued flourishing as usual. My therapist kept asking how the kids were. Fine, I wondered, they seem fine.

But, around February, the sadness eased, walking my new dog three times a day started to heal me endorphin style, and I came out of my fog to see that Yusef and Hanni no longer went to bed or woke up laughing. A feud had erupted. Further investigation revealed that they no longer wanted to spend a minute in each other's company--that they were carrying intense antagonism for each other. Individual conversations with the boys informed me that they were done as brothers, never wanted to speak to the other again, and might come to blows if one more thing happened.

Hmm. I told each of them that if they wanted to call me mother, then they were brothers through me. And although it was normal to be feuding at this stage in the relationship, it had gone on long enuugh. They had two weeks to fix it and could ask for my help, but if they didn't fix it in two weeks, they were seeing a therapist two times a week to help them heal their relationship. Both boys spit on me (figuratively) with disgust. There was NO WAY they were going to be brothers again. Two weeks, I said.

I took a close look at Yusef and realized that his shitty attitude had become unbearable and had been going on since mid-December. We had addressed it MANY times and there had been no change. He is the baby, and he was crying out for my attention by being as ugly to me as he could. He was the Gold Medal Olympic Champion of attitude. So, I had the talk with him. The same one I'd had with Hanni. This is your home, not a prison. If you want to live here, you follow my rules, but if living here makes you as miserable as you're acting, I will help you find a new place to live. That doesn't change that I love you and this is your home, but if you're this unhappy, you must want to try living somewhere else for a while. End of discussion.

I followed up with him about where he wanted to live every day. He insisted he was behaving with respect and good cheer and I insisted that if he couldn't recognize the bad attitude, it meant he couldn't change it and we should think of where else he might be happier. Over the course of a week, the conversation changed.

The attitude stopped. He began telling me all the things that were bothering him in his own life. He started looking at me in my face again, coming into my room to talk. Acknowledging the dog with his own version of kindness. He began joking again. Calling me to stay hi. We wrapped it up--he wanted to stay, he'd just been miserable and not sure how to tell me.

Yusef and Hanni started laughing again. They chose each other's company over individual company with me. They bonded over the SAT prep I forced them through. Listening at the door of my closet which borders their room, I heard laughter and indecipherable secrets whispered as they prepared for bed.

My Gala kicked into high gear and I got very busy, but in the face of the realization that my emotional absence had had on their individual lives, I stayed focused on the boys. Watched them like a hawk and did my best to make time to really see them. I spent as much time as possible with them individually and together.

The house felt like a home again--with my boys smiling and making jokes in every room.

If mom is okay, the boys are okay. If I'm healthy and happy and catching their weird secret verbal and nonverbal cues, they can relax into their lives. I am AMAZED at the power I have as mom over their quality of life. I had thought they were okay, but the contrast with how noisy and boisterous they were today between how they had behaved over my sad winter made me realize that they had not been okay at all.

Oprah and her team were not lying when they said that as parents, the best gift you can give your kids is for you to be happy yourself. I am witness to this. Can give testimony to the power my joy has on the household. Intimidating, but a great way to stay in check.

I'm on vacation right now, resting and thinking. When I left at three in the morning to fly to this corner of the Caribbean, Hanni woke up to carry my stuffed suitcase down the stairs, and when I looked up, Yusef had woken up also and was staring out the window at me as I got into the cab. I see their love and I accept the responsibility of receiving it.

Hand to the heart, I will identify the areas of my life that are driven by my childhood neglect, and find the patterns of bad behavior that are motivated by an aching need to change how I was brought up. I will face the fact that I can't put better parents into my past, and let go of this fantasy in order to become a better parent in reality for Hanni and Yusef.