Coffee Talk with Christina : Part Three

Remember back in August when I asked for questions because I was having writer's block?  Well, I kind of am at the same place again...and am going to answer Lee's question now to jumpstart my creative juices.

Thanks Lee!

"What I might ask if we chatted over coffee would be how has your childhood informed how you parent your children today? I would ask this because although I am not adopted I had a very um odd family dynamic and found myself doing lots of sifting and casting out of things when I wanted to be a parent."

My childhood sucked. I was afraid of my aparents and felt lost and alone 99.99% of the time. I’d spend hours upon hours either in my room or outside in the woods by myself, inventing fairytale scenarios that I’d make up in my head. Often they’d involve a dramatic rescue…white horse, damsel in distress, the whole nine yards. My favorite book as a child was “A Little Princess” because for all intents and purposes, I WAS her.


As a mother, I’ve allowed my kids the freedom to be themselves. If that means that my son dresses up like Hannah Montana and prances around the house singing at the top of his lungs, then that’s okay with me. If that means that my daughter dresses in jeans and t-shirts all the time and rolls her eyes at me when it’s time to brush her teeth, then so be it. There are boundaries, of course, but I am bound and determined that my children will NEVER be afraid of me. The hugs and the kisses and the snuggles are given freely and without any fear of a slap across the face in the next moment.

I always make sure to let the kids know that I’m proud of them…that no matter how Maddie sings, or how Chase does on his spelling test, I’m proud. I never quite was able to obtain my aparents’ approval. My asister was the smart one…the one who made it farther with our piano lessons than I did…the one who got accepted into a better college than I did…the one who made straight A’s every time. Now I know that she did all those things to prove to our aparents that she was worthy enough of their love, but maybe a part of me was rebelling against them. And getting a B on my report card, while not really rebel worthy, was the best (or worst) I could do.

While I know that I need to make sure my kids are safe, I will not suffocate them. I know that they need to have their own lives and experience things that I never got to experience. I had to beg…literally beg…to be allowed to go out with my friends in high school. And when I’d get home I’d get the silent treatment for a good day and a half because I surely hadn’t deserved to be allowed to go, but they’d relented and now I was going to pay for it. I just wanted to have a little fun in an otherwise dreary existence…not too much to ask for…and it WON’T be too much for my kids to ask for. Ever.


By the way, this is Chase, dressed up like Hannah Montana...

 

Coffee Talk With Christina: Part One

Way back on August 6, I was whining endlessly lamenting the fact that I was experiencing writer's block.  I asked for some help and I'm finally getting around to taking the time to answer the commenters' questions.

Diane, from An-Ya asked me the following (her words are italicized):

"Tell me about you when you were 10. Not quite a little girl...not yet a teen...what were your dreams? Did those dreams come true? Did your dreams change as you entered your teen years? If so, why did they change?"

I was an odd child.  All through my childhood, I was strange.  Never comfortable in my own skin...embarassed when people noticed me.  Fifth grade was no different.  I had the stupidest hair cut...ever.   And my glasses...well, let's just say, I don't call them "ugly ass glasses" for nothing. 

Don't believe me?  Take a look at this picture.  Second row, second in from the left.

It's okay, you can laugh.  Hell, I can laugh now.  But back then, I knew I was ugly...knew that I didn't fit in.  Knew that my teacher hated me...but that there was nothing I could do about it.  I loved the Fall and the Spring when I could escape to the woods and climb trees and make up stories of how I was actually a princess that was being help captive, far from my family and castle.  THAT was my dream.  That one day, my family would come looking for me and save me from the misery that was my life...a dungeon from which there was no escape.

My dream didn't come true until two years ago.  July 11, 2008..the day of first contact with my natural mother.  On that day, I was freed from the dungeon. 


"If you could travel back in time and talk to yourself...what would you say? What words would you use to comfort your 10 year old self?"

I spend a lot of my therapy sessions comforting my five year old and eight year old selves.  I am learning how to give them the love that I lacked from my adoptive parents...and to help them see that I can keep them safe now.  That it's 2010 and everything that happened, happened in the past...it's over.  I'd tell my 10 year old self to hold on.  That one day, she's going to grow up and have friends to talk to and to love her.  That it doesn't matter whether the teacher likes her, or teases her for her stutter.  None of that matters...because I love her.  And I haven't forgotten about her and the pain, loneliness and abuse she's going through.

"10 years old was a hard age for me. I am interested in how it played out for you...and anyone else who is reading along."

Every age was hard for me.  Not trying to be a smartass here...it's just how it was.  Oddly enough, I don't really have many "memories" of those years, per se.  I just remember how I felt.  Empty.

Anyone else want to share on the questions that Diane asked me?  Feel free to use this as a jumping off point to discuss. 

Thanks Diane...I'll be answering the other questions from that post in the coming days.