To Babybel On The Occasion of Being Fourteen Years Old,
Okay. I’m going to say this not because I need reassurance or to make it about me (but I mean, like, Babybel is still a part of me as far as I’m concerned): I forgot to wish Babybel a happy birthday first thing in the morning on Tuesday.
There are many factors including pink eye paranoia, tunnel vision and running on a creativity deficit that could explain away why when my teenager emerged from her room “what do you want for breakfast?” was the first thing I said to her.
Maybe you’ll remember my mistake forever, maybe one day we can laugh (at me) about it… "there’s mom doing her anxious, unmindful, tunnel-vision mom thing again"… and I know your body remembers all the mistakes and unhealthy patterns I’ve established for you the past fourteen years. Unlike many parents or my wired "instinct" to avoid pain and discomfort, I intentionally want to say that I DON'T want to erase any of that. I'm not trying to erase your pain, your memories and the role I played in them.
What I do want is to acknowledge and take responsibility for all the times I have and continue to make you feel unseen, unheard, unsafe, disconnected from my love. It’s a cliche especially as a defensive, avoidant, gaslighting tactic for parents to say to their (teen, adult, etc) children: “But I’m not perfect!”
So, what I want to say to you, Babybel, is: I’m not perfect and I won’t always be the parent you deserve or need me to be AND when I miss the mark (daily!), when I injure you or make you feel anything less than held, beloved, celebrated beyond measure, how I repair with you, how I regain your trust, how I make sure you and your heart, mind or soul are safe with me, THAT is the parent I strive to be—whether you remember or notice it or not, whether it counteracts, outweighs the traumas and memories or not. And it’s a practice and a challenge because most of us grown-ups were not raised with parents who were accountable for their mistakes. I’m learning and unlearning, still and maybe most importantly fourteen years into parenting.
From the day you were born, for most of your life I have tried to figure out how to be a “better” parent and while I’m very thankful for the ways in which you, your siblings and new information have expanded my parenting practice, I’m realizing that good parenting isn’t about getting it perfect for each and every child, in each and every moment; it’s about what you do when you fuck it up.
Besides Tuesday when I derailed your birthday morning (and I hope I have and continue to make amends for that), there are fourteen years worth of patterns and traumatic memories that I must answer to. And many of them have already affected our relationship, have already borne themselves out when I can feel you pulling away or hesitant to share with me or shrinking when I hit a chord--a chord, triggering a familiar tune of pain, rejection, disconnection--one that I composed.
(To make matters worse, I'm sick and we had to cancel your birthday party. And I'm not sure about you (because I'm sick and isolating and haven't checked in with you yet) but I for sure have core memories of my mom and dad somehow always being sick on days that were important for me. And before Lola and Lolo get defensive, I understand as both their child and your parent that whether that is a true or accurate history doesn't matter, because what is true are the feelings--of abandonment, betrayal, disconnection.)
All we ever want is to know, to feel we are loved.
I'm sorry (and will continue to be) for all the times that my own issues and trauma stop my love from flowing to you, stop you from receiving my love. I know it takes a lot of words, a lot of actions and (scientifically!) five or more positive interactions to "undo" a negative one. And I know being a teenager isn't easy. I'm not going to say "as a parent of a teenager, I'm going to give you lots of chances" as if it's my job to be gracious to you. (I mean I will give you all the chances, I am an enabling Filipina mother at my core, after all.) I'm asking that as a teenager of a parent, don't give up on me? Don't write me off? I will for sure mess up in dramatic ways like forgetting to wish you a happy birthday, but also in ways that are more subtle and insidious.
I'm not saying it's your job to re-parent me, to "manage up" or to perpetually forgive me. It's not your job to tell me when I've messed up. And I know it's difficult to tell someone when they've hurt you. This is something I'm asking both of us to do and stay with even though it's uncomfortable, it's not how we (as a society, as a culture, as a family or specifically you and I) "do things." You may even hate me for it in the moment, but what I ask is that you give me a chance to make things right again?
Damage is inevitable in relationships, especially where the armor that I put on to protect Little Lauren bumps up against the armor you put on to protect Little Maribel. The goal isn’t to avoid the damage. It’s there, it’s done. We’ve been taught to move on from it, ignore it, avoid the feelings that surround the damage. But, I’m trying to think about something I’ve learned recently about attachment styles and parenting from @drbeckyatgoodinside:
“We can’t beat our feelings, so they’re there. So if we can’t erase them, then guess what? They never got attachment. I often think with a feeling that never got attachment, it never got cushioned in a loving way…”
I’ve hurt you, left you with feelings that in your memories never got cushioned by the love you needed from me in a moment when you were vulnerable, you needed me, you looked to me and I wasn’t there for you. And it s like, Dr. Becky continues about the importance of repair, “I know it happened. Their body knows it happened. I have the words. They don’t have the words because they can’t understand it coherently if I’m not the one giving coherence to that moment.” And so yes, this is this amazing power, responsibility, opportunity we have.”
Making things right doesn't happen all at once. Atonement or repentance is a process and more like the overlapping but progressive circles of a ribbon dancer as they move across a room than it is like a straight line. While my aim, as a human, is to immediately know when I've caused a disconnect and be able to note and repair it before any damage occurs, that may never happen. In the meantime, I move forward with humility and I hope to live and love you through difficult moments--whether they are things that you remember and bring up, that I remember and bring up or that "OMG, MOM, this has nothing to do with you and I just want to talk about this other person who has as much capacity to hurt me as you because they are also important in my life!" (but I mean, who would ever?)
Oh, right. Listening, being a safe space. Got it. I'm here for you. I'm here for you and I will still mess up. Please, just keep coming back? (But not like in an abusive, no boundary way, OK? More like you trust me and our relationship enough to know you can throw any fact, feeling or feces at it and it will survive.) My love for you is unshakable.
I love you no matter what,
Mommy
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