Hi All,
It came to me right when I was tucking them in tonight--the idea: it is not about keeping them from getting hurt. It is not about keeping them safe. I thought it was but I was wrong.
I grew up afraid often. Some of this was a cautious temperament and some of this was being the first child to parents who had lost many children. I had a strong sense of the importance of being careful. The importance of not getting hurt was palpable. It makes perfect sense. After loss the fragility of life is top of mind. Be safe. Be careful.
I grew up in this way. Trying to be safe. I didn't think about in a totally conscious sort of way. I was a kid, I laughed, I ran around, I rode my bike but it was always there...be careful. I was told frequently the story of how as a toddler I had meandered my way to the basement stairs while my parents trimmed our Christmas tree that first year of my life and how my Mom came upon just in time to watch me fall all of the way down them. She said that if she hadn't called me name, "Karen!" and scared me that she felt I might not have fallen. It's clear to me and I am sure anyone reading this that the person who got the most hurt from that fall was the person who watched it. The kid who actually fell, me, has no memory of any of it.
40 years later, with my own children past toddlerhood I think about that story. I think about fear and my new understanding of just what shapes fear and the impact that it causes on those we are afraid for. The message is clear. Do not get hurt. Be careful. The world is something to be afraid of.
For years I complained, laughed, yelled, rolled my eyes or otherwise remarked about my Dad's constant concern for my well being. Call me when you get there. Call me when you are halfway there. Make sure you stop. Stop at every rest area. Don't get tired. Be careful. The world is something to be afraid of.
My kids at the moment are now asleep and tucked in. They are safe. I feel this way that at this time I can relax because they are safe. I can let my guard down now. I've done my job. I got them thru this...this scary life.
And then it occurred to me. I might have been wrong. Maybe it is about more then keeping them safe. Maybe it is about protecting them from the fear. My fear. Our real demon, and truthfully what could damage them more than the outside world. This idea: The world is something to be afraid of.
I lost my Dad to a scary illness. My Dad lost his Mother to the same scary illness. Both my Dad and I share the same legacy of sudden and acute pain. I understand where his desire to keep me safe came from. He just couldn't lose someone else and he was going to do everything within his power to insure he didn't. My anger at his lack of confidence in me was always there. Don't you trust me? Don't you think I can do this? He once said to me, I'm not afraid of what you will do, I'm afraid of what someone else will do. I don't judge him. I get it. I just wish I could have made him see then that believing in someone means believing that they will be able to handle what life throws at them. Ultimately, I guess he knew I could handle quite a bit and he got free of his fear in the only way he knew how.
The trick might be in not instinctively protecting my children from my own darkness and fear. Not hiding it or keeping secrets, but not acting on it either. Laughing. Feeling fear and trusting the world anyway and letting them watch the entire time. The next time I think "Be Careful"--I swear I am going to say "Have Fun." That's called breaking a cycle. xxxK
It came to me right when I was tucking them in tonight--the idea: it is not about keeping them from getting hurt. It is not about keeping them safe. I thought it was but I was wrong.
I grew up afraid often. Some of this was a cautious temperament and some of this was being the first child to parents who had lost many children. I had a strong sense of the importance of being careful. The importance of not getting hurt was palpable. It makes perfect sense. After loss the fragility of life is top of mind. Be safe. Be careful.
I grew up in this way. Trying to be safe. I didn't think about in a totally conscious sort of way. I was a kid, I laughed, I ran around, I rode my bike but it was always there...be careful. I was told frequently the story of how as a toddler I had meandered my way to the basement stairs while my parents trimmed our Christmas tree that first year of my life and how my Mom came upon just in time to watch me fall all of the way down them. She said that if she hadn't called me name, "Karen!" and scared me that she felt I might not have fallen. It's clear to me and I am sure anyone reading this that the person who got the most hurt from that fall was the person who watched it. The kid who actually fell, me, has no memory of any of it.
40 years later, with my own children past toddlerhood I think about that story. I think about fear and my new understanding of just what shapes fear and the impact that it causes on those we are afraid for. The message is clear. Do not get hurt. Be careful. The world is something to be afraid of.
For years I complained, laughed, yelled, rolled my eyes or otherwise remarked about my Dad's constant concern for my well being. Call me when you get there. Call me when you are halfway there. Make sure you stop. Stop at every rest area. Don't get tired. Be careful. The world is something to be afraid of.
My kids at the moment are now asleep and tucked in. They are safe. I feel this way that at this time I can relax because they are safe. I can let my guard down now. I've done my job. I got them thru this...this scary life.
And then it occurred to me. I might have been wrong. Maybe it is about more then keeping them safe. Maybe it is about protecting them from the fear. My fear. Our real demon, and truthfully what could damage them more than the outside world. This idea: The world is something to be afraid of.
I lost my Dad to a scary illness. My Dad lost his Mother to the same scary illness. Both my Dad and I share the same legacy of sudden and acute pain. I understand where his desire to keep me safe came from. He just couldn't lose someone else and he was going to do everything within his power to insure he didn't. My anger at his lack of confidence in me was always there. Don't you trust me? Don't you think I can do this? He once said to me, I'm not afraid of what you will do, I'm afraid of what someone else will do. I don't judge him. I get it. I just wish I could have made him see then that believing in someone means believing that they will be able to handle what life throws at them. Ultimately, I guess he knew I could handle quite a bit and he got free of his fear in the only way he knew how.
The trick might be in not instinctively protecting my children from my own darkness and fear. Not hiding it or keeping secrets, but not acting on it either. Laughing. Feeling fear and trusting the world anyway and letting them watch the entire time. The next time I think "Be Careful"--I swear I am going to say "Have Fun." That's called breaking a cycle. xxxK
I love that conclusion. Have fun indeed.
ReplyDeleteAnd, of course, bravery is not the absence of fear, it's action in the face of fear.
ReplyDelete