humans have a good bit of issue with being consistent.
i remember how long it took me to move through the worst aspects of my history. there are parts of it i’m still wrestling with, but the majority of it was laid to rest about ten years or so ago.
in this moment, i’m watching as my son attempts to begin his own process. i don’t get to see much of it, only the somewhat aloof denial that arrives now and again by email and the occasional finger of blame or insinuation of expected guilt. i’m fairly certain he doesn’t understand those things do not live here any more. in much the same way as the anger and resentment toward his father and adopted mother no longer live here.
history only hurts as long as you let it. and the blame game never makes things better.
i remember the moment when i finally realized that no matter what those who hurt me said or did, it was never going to ‘fix’ the hurt and loss i felt. that the only one who would or could ever really fix that was me. and that the first step of doing so was to stop looking for their faults and stop reminding myself of all the things they didn’t ‘do properly’ in relation to one another, me, any and all of it.
it’s a hard thing to do — to just let it go. there’s a part that wants acknowledgment, to hear them say ‘yes, it was a bad choice… and i’m sorry i made it… and i’m sorry you hurt for my making it.’
but frankly, if they could manage that, chances are those bad choices wouldn’t be part of my history.
and of course, there are those choices that hurt me and that i perceived as any number of things… but, with time and maturity, realize were actually the best possible choice in those moments. choices made by people who, saddled with acts and circumstances they could not shape, change, or control, did the best thing possible to mitigate the continued hurt in them.
it was the reason my grandmother put us in the children’s home. but it took me many years to be willing to see it, let alone understand it.
it is a childish, immature mind that stridently insists on pointing the finger. the ego’s need to feel vindicated. funny thing is, it never really helps. it certainly doesn’t make the hurt go away. the only thing that does is really understanding how things were, seeing that the people in those moments did they best they knew how, regardless how imperfect those choices may have been… and accepting that humans being as they are, sometimes that’s just the best we’ll ever get from the past — the ability to understand it and through that understanding, let go of old thorns and let the wounds start healing.
i explained to my son that i do not regret the choices i made. nor do i feel any guilt for them. i knew in that moment it was the best choice, considering my own inability to shape, shift, or control the actions and choices of his father and adopted mother. and it was the only choice that insured a lifetime of ‘more of the same’ would be averted.
stars knows, his father and adopted mother were shallow, superficial, and utterly vindictive people. whether or not they ever outgrew it is anyone’s guess. the only insight i had toward that came from my daughter some years ago, when she contacted them to try and find her half-brother. my son’s adopted mother took some glee in telling her how sorry she felt for her, to have me as a mother. blah, blah, blah. i remember my daughter telling me about it and saying, ‘i can certainly understand now why you chose as you did. anyone who is capable of doing something like that to a total stranger obviously hasn’t matured much over the years.’
the only regret i have in relation to it all is the certainty that he grew up with immature, neurotic parents and there is a host of things that come with that which i deeply regret he had to be exposed to… on the other hand, he’s a strong-minded fellow and regardless, seems to have come through it with intellect and spirit intact. i remain certain if he stops his own denial, he’ll eventually work his way through it and have exactly the life i hoped for him when i made those choices.
it has been an interesting experience here. my own interests and care rest almost solely in knowing he is healthy and capable of functioning in the world. i know from my daughter and intermittent exchanges by email with him that he is far from incapable. i know as well that he’s enough like me that the lingering issues aren’t going to slow him down for long. that’s a comfort.
as for the rest, i’ve purposed to kick back any ego he tosses my way, remind him that his need to blame doesn’t obligate the rest of the world, and the best thing he can do for himself is to stop defining his life and feelings around ‘what happened to him’. of course i realize that takes time and a lot of hard work… but i’ve got confidence in him. after all, he is my son. 🙂