Today I woke up, and for the first time I realized what really scares me about this pregnancy. I have been joking about how I am karmically screwed because I am having a boy; and everything I went through with my parents will come back ten-fold to me with my son. It does scare the hell out of me but I realized why it is so scary. I’m not scared of what my son may put me and Kate through…I’m worried about what he will be putting himself through!
I was a little douche of a kid. I constantly made a scene just to make a scene. I was out of control, I was looking for attention, and worst of all I was aware of it. This came as no fault of my parents! There is no “my parents didn’t pay attention to me.” No! My parents were amazing! Better than amazing! I have no idea how they put up with me. If anything they should receive an award for everything they did for me and the patience they had with me throughout my life. I grew up around that so I am confident that I have the potential to be like my parents: patient, loving, and supportive. What scares me is I know how much emotional pain, disgust, and confusion I caused myself…and I don’t want my son to go through the same.
Every day I still battle the same battles from childhood. How far can I push someone away and then reel them back in? Am I the center of attention? Where is the line of appropriateness? What can I get away with? My life has been an internal emotional experiment with social detachment and reattachment. I purposely did things knowing they would evoke massive reactions from people…then I would see how far I could push them…then I would see what it took to bring them back to center and tell me they loved me. It was a game…a game I despised to play but for some reason I had to play. I knew what I was doing and saying was wrong, I didn’t want to do it, but something inside me kept fueling me to push further. Push, push, push, push!
In this game I lost many friends. I found myself very alone. I comforted myself by saying that the ones who stayed were my real friends. They were more than friends. They were now family. That was how I defined family: the people who stayed after I pushed them to the brink of their love and patience for me. Its a terrible feeling. It hurts in my stomach to think about it. This is what scares me: What if Zig is like me? What if he too tears away at his own emotional stability? Why was I built like this? Why do I still have to combat the urge to self destruct? How do I prevent him making my mistakes?
Of course there are no answers…that is why it is scary. We want better for our children than what we had. For me this is not a better education, life style, or job market. I want him to have a better mental and emotional state…but I don’t know how to provide that. That is scary. That is life. All I can do is be patient, be loving, understanding, sympathetic, and be like my parents. A great psychologist doesn’t hurt either.
Thanks Scott, you have no idea how much emotional power you and my parents helped instill in me.