Clearly such hubris met with the gods’ disapproval for immediately after pushing the “publish” button I fell into a hole from which I have yet to escape. It’s times like these I think it might make more sense to drop all medicines and see where we stand — a new baseline, as it were. I’ve not been med-free in many, many years. Maybe I’d be cured! Maybe it’s the drugs that make me cranky!
When I raise this possibility to the doctor next week I feel reasonably certain that she’ll not agree — or that she will agree with the stipulation that I put the number of the ECT clinic on speed dial.
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This made me cry yesterday:
It is terrible—terrible—to be a woman in a relationship with a man who does not reflexively and uncompromisingly respect your inherent worth as his equal. It is terrible, too, to be the sister or friend or coworker of such a man. But there is something uniquely painful about hearing one’s own father communicate you are less than.
There is something uniquely demeaning about being told by a man who brought you into this world, and/or brought you up in it, that it is not a world to which you deserve equal opportunity, equal access, your fair share, but a world in which you deserve less.
Less respect. Less dignity. Less agency. Less autonomy. Less opportunity. Less voice. Less ownership of self. Less of your humanity, because humanness is a zero sum game, and a little of yours must be given to him.
That feels like something less than love to a daughter.
Read the rest here.
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Today this happens.
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As a child I learned to hide loose teeth as they were simply not tolerated in my house. Did it wiggle? Then my dad insisted upon knocking it out while delivering a meant-to-be distracting but actually terrifying tooth-brushing. I swore not to do the same; in this effort I succeeded with my first child, who lost all her teeth with the usual degree of drama (lots) but only limited participation (read: cheering from the sidelines) from your truly.
I continued to succeed with my second child. Her first tooth broke free in an altogether unassisted and angst-less fashion some months back. But then a few weeks ago four teeth at once began to loosen, one of them to the point that it was laying sideways in her mouth. “Wiggle it,” we all told her, and to her credit she wiggled it like a champ. And yet on it held, through juice, through gum, through a delectable McDonald’s dinner, all designed to get her to forget about it long enough that she’d make one good bite down and the silly thing would just fall out.
But it didn’t, and when it got to the point that the tooth’s irritation caused her to limp1 she brought her tear-stained face to me and asked for help in making the annoyance go away. Can you wiggle it some more? I weakly asked, but she was done. “Pull it out for me, mommy,” she said, her blue eyes enormous as she begged for deliverance.
I did it. I pulled it out, and her relief was so instantaneous, so overwhelming, that she couldn’t stop laughing and I knew I’d done the right thing. But this is what happens in fuckedup childhoods: The past steadfastly refuses to stay in the past, intruding on the present and making you doubt even when you most need to be decisive.
It really kind of sucks.
- !!!!!!! [↩]
And unfortunately, sometimes it takes a little one’s tear-stained face to remind you that you can’t *always* say “I’ll never…” because sometimes, just sometimes, it *is* the right thing to do.
My parents, like yours, made a lot (A LOT!!!) of parenting mistakes that I’m trying not to repeat with my kids. And sometimes, what I thought was a mistake, and what might have been a mistake for me, for one of my children, it’s not a mistake, it’s just what I need to do.
Kudos! :)
I know a woman whose male family members are assholes, lunatics, and other assorted nasty things. It’s heartbreaking to see the ultimate impact of this, though she makes a valiant effort to hide that impact. This to say that your tears are understandable, and even, dare I say it, normal.
The way your father dealt with your loose teeth was wrong. The way you dealt with your little one put the ball directly in her court. Her body told her when that tooth was absolutely ready to come out, she came to you and asked for help, and you helped her. A beautiful sinergy, as far as I’m concerned.
Hugs to you, brave and beautiful woman.
Stay on the meds. It sounds like crankiness is the least of your problems.
Wow, dude, angry much?
Wow, thanks Dubdub! That’s so compassionate and supportive! You’re a real prince!
I share your confusion and need to conquer the meds issue. Quick story. I’ve been on antidepressants for over 15 years. I’ve tried many many times to stop them believing I was “cured”. But after many episodes and the knowledge from my psychologist spouse, the problem is not my emotions, but my chemical imbalance. And my meds work, I just continue to believe I’ll be cured. The last time I tried to stop, I’d been cutting down for months, and was down to once a week. Then the depression hit. I found myself standing in the shower, seeing myself sitting there, wrists cut, blood rushing down the drain. It felt like the right thing to do. But then I saw my loving husband finding me and how terrible he would feel. Thank God(desses) that vision accompanied the other. I was honest enough and brave enough to tell him about the feelings and thoughts that night. I trust him NOW enough to share that with him, knowing he understands and accepts me. I started back on the pills full time that night and have been on them daily, again 3 weeks now. I feel good. But I still get teary, I still feel strongly about things, I still get sad and angry and hurt, etc. But the ugly thoughts are banished, again, for now. Moral of this long tale? It’s not us, not something we chose, nor can control. Its chemistry, at its worst. Keep trying Always, keep trying with the meds. But don’t stop feeling. The feelings are what make you you, a caring, loving, involved woman and mother. And you’re never alone!
thank you so much for sharing such a vulnerable piece of yourself. It has helped me understand from the outside in just a little more…