Talking about your childhood can be a really happy, reminiscent time for you and bring on an onslaught of joyful memories, or it can be a hard conversation for a number of reasons. Depending on your upbringing and the associations you made within your childhood, it can be a touchy subject or an encouraged one. If you’re anything like the vast majority of people, you can look back and smile at some things and wince at some others. The highs are usually accompanied by a few lows.
I remember clear as day the first time I realized my parents were mortal. Both my mom and dad were sick and were out for the count. They probably just had colds or something very mild, but because both of them were sleeping in bed and not up and active, I panicked and thought the worst. My mind immediately went to “what if they die?” I was nervous that I would lose both of them at the same time, and the thought of not having them around was so painful. It was the first time I saw my parents as more than just my parents. It was the first time I saw them as people.
As time ticked by, I gradually saw them more as human and less as people who just housed me. I started realizing that they had childhoods, teenage years, personal struggles, triumphs. They had everything I have right now— I just wasn’t there to see it, only hear stories years and years later. But that doesn’t make them any less valid or real.
They were young once. They were once kids without kids, a job, a spouse— obligations. Growing up, I had my own thoughts about them as parents, but the older I got, the more I saw them as kids who grew up, had babies, and had to find their way like every other person on this ride.
One day, when I have kids, I know they will only see me as “mom” for so many years. As they age, they will slowly start to see my humanness, and I can only pray that they see me as a full person at some point. I have always tried to see my parents (from the moment I realized they were human onward) as people who are just trying their best. I have tried hard to see myself in them, understand their points of view, and support their decisions, even if they weren’t the ones I’d make.
I had a blissful childhood for so many reasons. I also had to endure a divorce that was single-handedly the hardest part of my life. During that time, I was really able to see my parents as people, and understanding that they need exactly what I need was one of the greatest lessons I learned to be more compassionate. It is so easy to extend love and kindness to people who we deem worthy of those gestures, but it can be even easier to deny that compassion to the very people who raised us, all because we forget about their humanness.
We are all so different. That’s just a cold, hard fact. Your parents may make decisions that feel foreign and “wrong”, but they are not exempt from making mistakes, the same way you nor anyone else is exempt from that. You do not have to have a perfect, happy relationship with your parents— you just have to understand that they deserve happiness just as much as anyone else does.
I want to wrap this up by saying that I felt compelled to write this piece because I’ve been trying to figure out my next career endeavors for the better half of this year. My mom has watched me go from working a job I was so unaligned to and unhappy in to pivoting my focus to a more fulfilling direction. She has every reason to hurry me along, second-guess my motives, and pressure me to “just get a job”.
Thankfully, she has done anything but that. She has faith in my abilities, my vision, my passion, and I would not be where I am mentally if I didn’t have her support. It has showed me that if roles were reversed and she were in my position at my age, she would have wanted that unwavering belief to shower over her, too. The belief that her dreams, her goals, and her passions were worthy of living out their destiny.
My recent experiences have made me realize that my parents were once in my shoes. They wanted a life filled with love because, well, we all do. At any age, at any point, with children or without, we all want the same exact things. It’s what connects us, not as parents and as children, but as people.
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