I had "the talk" with my daughter yesterday. She's eight and has been asking a ton of questions over the past few months and I had a lot of catching up to do.
I have very much fallen down on the job... I have never called body parts anything. At all. I've never talked about normal functions of our bodies; especially what happens as we grow up.
I'm very uncomfortable with all of it. However, it wasn't the discomfort that I dreaded the most. I was so afraid that I would bring it up and it would reveal that something had happened to her. That was my worst fear.
If someone had sat me down at eight, I probably could have told them more than they knew as an adult. It would have been very clear that things were happening to me. Not surprising though, nothing was ever explained to me. It was demonstrated instead.
So when we started talking I was so relieved to hear that she knew virtually nothing other than a few details that she has picked up on from other kids and TV. I used a book to explain everything; books are my cure-all for anything I don't know how to do. Most of this topic, terms, body parts, etc are upsetting and can flood me with bad memories. Thankfully the book kept me on track.
Everything was fine until she started asking me how old I was when I found out about all of this. I didn't know how to answer her. It had been such good conversations until then and I didn't want to taint her own memory with my garbage bags. The best answer I knew to give was that I didn't remember. We finished the conversation and went about our day.
I put on a smile for everyone but on the inside there was a deep and burning grief in the pit of my stomach that has yet to leave. In trying to do the right things as a parent I often get blindsided by the very simple, very wrong actions of my parents. And it hurts.
I would be lying if I said that I don't get jealous of my daughter at times. I know that's a terrible thing to think let alone say but it makes me wonder what was so bad about me. I want to do the best that I can by her yet my parents couldn't muster much more than not killing me.
It's an intolerable contrast that I can't seem to wrap my mind around.
My daughter is a good kid with a kind heart. She can also be very challenging. But even at her worst I can't imagine doing what they did. And that makes me wonder just how horrible I must have been.
My parents were bad people and I loved them. I still do. So how can my daughter be such a good person coming from such a bad person for a mother?
Another intolerable contrast except this one is one that I can't wrap my heart around.
“Shall I Crucify Your King?” #UNITE Linky
22 hours ago