On Parents

I’ve recently read the book “Holly“ by Stephen King. The main character Holly has a complicated relationship with her parents, especially with her recently deceased mother. It was fantastic. After finishing it, I needed to take a break from thrillers.

Maybe everybody has a difficult relationship with their parents in some way. It is quite rare to hold such huge expectations for a probably unprepared human and to not be disappointed. Unless they‘re Doofenshmirtz. Dude was a dumb ass supervillain but a 10/10 dad. For the rest, maybe a quip from the play “A woman of no importance“ by Oscar sassy Wilde rings truer:

Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them.

Which is kind of how it went with mine.

My mom, my dad and me

In the beginning, there was love. I adored them and begged to have the effort returned. During my teenage years, I despised them for their mistakes and wished for replacements. Now in early adulthood, I have forgiven them for their fuck-ups and actively work on having a relationship with them. This does not mean the hurt is gone.

My parents married young. One year into marriage, I came along. I was a surprise, an unplanned birth. My sibling was the planned child. The wanted one.

I have over-analysed the need to justify my existence, why I had to be useful to deserve love only to realise it all started with my birth. By being born, I was dysfunctional. Unwanted from the beginning. I felt guilty for making their life harder, wondering where they‘d be now without me. And it‘s so hard because how could I possibly fix this? How could I make up for my own birth? It was entirely outside of my control, and is something I can never change. Even if I‘d die tomorrow, the ripple effects caused by my birth would remain. It seemed like fate chained me to eternal inadequacy, pushed me into a hole made out of quicksand. No matter how much I‘d do, I’d always suffocate on my past.

Simultaneously, this realisation freed me. I don’t need to make up for some inherent defect, because there‘s no chance I ever could. I lost the battle for perfection from the very beginning, so I can let go of ever achieving it. I am fundamentally flawed and that is okay. I could have never existed at all which means I was gifted with life. I don't want to waste that.

The cycle of pain

My parents are human. That means they made mistakes. They were young when they had me, so they made even more mistakes.

Expressing uncomfortable emotions was discouraged. If I felt sad or angry, that was bad. Instead of processing my feelings, I learnt to suppress them. My dad had to work a lot, so I connected less with him during childhood. I see how other people act with their fathers, the settled trust as well as the tongue-in-cheek banter, and wish I had that too. I learnt that if I was a good child, I received love. I didn‘t believe they‘d love me if I made too many mistakes. I tried so hard to be the perfect daughter, but I know I'll never be.

Both grew up in poor, rural areas in Romania. The communist dictatorship only ended in their childhood. Their parents enforced the same norms they now adhere to. Instead of viewing them as villains, I realised that they just reacted to their environment, to the mistakes inherited through each generation. My parents didn't spontaneously decide to act that way. They’re just part of the cycle. A cycle that pits us against each other. A cycle that reproduces the conditions which created the suffering in the first place. A cycle which makes each family a tragedy, where maybe part of the tragedy is that we do not even know whom to blame. Hurt people hurt people, but this does not make the pain vanish. I wanted to blame them. I desperately wanted to. Because at least then I’d have a reason, at least then I'd have a cause but I couldn't.

I cannot undo what has happened. What I can do though, is making sure I will be different. I can break the cycle.

My 🪙 🪙 on parenting

My teenage rebellion consisted mainly of me declaring that I NEVER wanted to have kids. Yes that was the climax of my rebellious phase. My parents expected me to have children. It wasn‘t a recommendation or a wish but plain obligation. They either responded with amusement or criticism, but never took me seriously. Pure spite was not the only reason though. I also didn’t find most reasons for kids convincing while not possessing any motivation to have them.

I don‘t want kids because I want to preserve my legacy, to save a relationship, or to avoid loneliness once I’m old. All of these reasons just portray a human as a pure vehicle of ego fulfillment. I don’t want to use another person in that way, especially not somebody who has little experience, is extremely vulnerable and completely dependant on me. This is manipulation.

I still stand that by that. What has changed is my intrinsic motivation to have children someday.

I partly want them out of a sense of duty, but one I understand. Fact one, birth rates are declining.¹ Fact two, political and religious orientation are partly genetic.² Fact three, in a democracy the numerically biggest groups will have major influence on policy. If we want to preserve our democratic principles, civil rights and technological progress, the best way to ensure that is by having kids who then probably share these sentiments.

Another reason is just the sheer miracle of life. There's no trace of this person but after nine months there suddenly exists a baby? That little human then grows and from a crying cutie emerges a full-blown adult? How?? You see how your child learns languages, forms models and beliefs about the world, begins to walk and read, or develops social skills and empathy. You watch the becoming of a human before your very eyes. And that’s your child. Children are literal mosaics of all their ancestors, reflected in their appearance and behaviour. They mirror your loved ones. Or when you adopt a child, how wondrous is it that despite no biological relation, deep love arises? Which highlights that it’s not so important that this child is yours, staking a claim over them, but rather the act of loving?

For the most part though, I want to break the cycle. I want to build a home, and make a little less mistakes than my parents. I want to give somebody else the love that I myself didn‘t always get. At the same time, I‘m afraid I‘ll fail. My parents are human like everybody else, they tried their best. What if I try my best and mess up?

There are still some worries nagging my mind regarding children. I do kind of want to have kids, but I am afraid they might overtake my life. That they will be the sole focus for 18 years and once they move out I‘ll be an old shell of myself. I am afraid I will be chronically sleep deprived, with no hobbys, a deteriorating social net and failing career. This goes hand in hand with the expectations society often puts on mothers. Be perfect, that‘s the minimum. If you‘re a father and have an ambitious career, that‘s okay. You‘re a father and go with the kids to the playground? Such a great dad, and if you‘re a single dad you’re caring. But if you‘re a woman and want to be successful you’re suddenly neglecting your children. Going to the park is the bare minimum and god forbid you are a single mom- someone was a slut…

Maybe what I really need is the reassurance that my spouse would help. That it's gonna be okay. I've probably watched too many weaponised incompetence videos lately.

Some parenting norms should also change. First of all, iPad kids need to be avoided at all costs. Let them have a childhood, not a compilation of TikTok sounds. Teach them how to eat dinner without watching Peppa pig on YouTube kids (no front to Peppa pig). I understand that parents want to contact their children but a flip phone or Nokia is sufficient for that. Plus flip phones are stylish af & Nokias never break.

Secondly, give kids a more independent childhood. Let them explore with others through unstructured play, not through a booked schedule with piano and Spanish lessons. That can of course be part of their week, but not a full-time job. You're their parent, not their personal assistant. That means we need robust communities and trusting neighbourhoods as well as walkable cities and towns.

Children don't need the newest shoes or phone or 100 brand new toys. They need friends, the freedom to grow and try, and the comfort of somebody holding them if they fail. They need role models, emotionally intelligent parents, who are calm and assertive, try their best while showing they're only human. We don't need perfect parents, just parents who will try.

Best wishes,

Somebody

1. https://www.weforum.org/agenda/2021/06/birthrates-declining-globally-why-matters/

2. https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s11109-014-9291-3