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April 24, 2006
Passing on the wounds
I just watched Oprah this morning. (My daily Oprah fix is coming to a stop since I go back to work on Thursday, but I'm not ready to write about that yet.)
The show started by highlighting the stories of a three-year old who was obsessed with make-up and looking pretty and a four-year old who was obsessed with being thin, going so far as to skip the PB&J at lunch to just eat the fruit cup. Three and four. While the mom's acknowledged some of their own personal demons, they mostly pointed to outside sources as the influential culprits of their children's behavior.
Then there was the teenage model who hated herself, who saw herself as ugly when she looked in the mirror. Her mother did the same thing to herself, but when she saw her daughter, she gently chastised her for thinking she was ugly... "Look at how beautiful you are, how can you say you're ugly? How can you say you're fat? If you want to see fat, look at me." In a way, it ended up being a weird contest of who hated themselves more, who wasn't good enough, who wasn't *fill in the blank*.
Around this and other conversations, some comments from the doctor on the show struck me. One was the idea of us passing on the wounds. I kind of likened it to running around in a room while covered with honey, feathers floating everywhere. Stuff just sticks, no matter how you dodge it. For every painpoint you were unable to address or resolve in your life, it somehow gets passed on to your children and they embody it often in a more exaggerated way than you yourself experienced it. For example, the mother of the three-year old who thought she was ugly, the mother always felt that growing up. She tried to over compensate by always telling her daughter how beautiful she is, but in her case it became all about who she was.
This was a very girl-centric show, but I didn't find it hard to think about how such things impact boys and men. While I am not a male role model for Gus and Eli, they not only learn how to treat themselves by watching how I treat myself, they learn how to treat the other women they will encounter in their lives. For example, how can I expect Gus and Eli to remain active beings throughout their lives if I myself am not active? If I berate how I look, something I've done, or even other people, they'll do it, too. The question is, as a parent, how do you deal with your own insecurities and issues without imparting the insecurities and issues onto your children?
The other concept that I wondered about was the notion of writing a letter to your younger self. What in the world would you say to your younger self? I have a feeling that a lot of what we would say can only be accepted after the experience, you know? How many pieces of advice did you get growing up that you didn't accept as truth until after you did what you shouldn't have done?
Let me give it a shot.
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Dear little Janna (let's say, oh, anywhere from age 8-12),
Don't freak out, but I'm you when you're 31. I know, you thought you'd have three kids by the age of 24 because that seemed so OLD, but trust me, you won't be anywhere near ready to have a family by that point. It's not that you won't be able to, it's just that you'll still be figuring a lot of stuff out.
I don't like the idea of giving you advice or stearing you in a different direction that I experienced since all the roads you will travel will bring you to a pretty awesome place. I do, however, wish I could remove some self-doubt from you... you know, lighten your load a bit on your travels.
First, please know that it's okay to be smart. It's okay to be really smart. You'll start to figure this out in sixth grade when you meet a really amazing teacher named Ms. Sullivan. She'll suck you out of your defeatest ways so quickly your head will spin. Thank goodness for her. Enjoy your year with her, she'll inspire you to feel like the strong girl you are.
Don't ponder too much about the popular girls. Yeah, yeah, they're cute and popular and seem to be good at everything they do, but you'll get yours someday. You'll even be really good friends with some of those same girls later, but for all the right reasons and never for the sake of popularity.
Janna, you compare yourself to the skinny girls sometimes, don't you? True, you're not skin and bones, and when you mention it to your Mom she'll say you have babyfat but you'll grow out of it. I don't think it matters what I say about this, you'll still think these things and compare yourself and feel hurt when some boys tease you, but you know what I wish for you? I wish for you strong and steady persistence and patience with people and a thick skin at times. I wish for you only the knowlege that comes with time, the knowledge that tells you there is no need to compete, because people are like apples and oranges. I wish for you to be surrounded by sweet, gentle, and fun folks who celebrate you as you and don't feel the urge to pick on you in order to build themselves up.
As an only child, you have quite the imagination. Keep using it, let it explode! Stop being your own worst enemy by sabotaging your own efforts. Again, see the previous paragraph about how it's okay to be smart.
I could go on and on, but one more thing... don't stop learning how to write code for computers. If you would only keep it up, you could be making a lot more money than I ever will. Embrace the geeky you!
xo
janna
Posted by janna at April 24, 2006 09:40 AM
Comments
you ARE really, really, smart, in every possible way. I remember you as a child and always thinking that you seem to posess the ability to be innocent, fun, funny and yet you seem to have an "old soul" for a child. You have grown into it so gracefully. I watched the same Oprah and had so many of the same thoughts. thanks for writing yours down. Your sons will definately benefit from your experiences.
Posted by: Aunt Deb at April 25, 2006 06:39 AM