Heal YOURSELF.

This parenting journey--WHEW!

It's really wild. You go from being responsible for yourself only, to being at the helm of an entirely separate person's development.

As moms and dads, we are responsible for how our spawn view the world. Their first impressions depend largely on how we present situations, people, and assorted things. Their interpretations are peppered with remnants of our own. They inherit our fears, anxieties, and prejudices right along with our hair color, nose shapes, and eye color.

This is why is absolutely imperative to make sure we address our own personal traumas, ideally before we bring kids into the mix but definitely as soon as those traumas become an issue.

For me, this had meant healing the divide with my biological family. While it's still quite a work in progress, and I admittedly have way more "WTF" moments than AHA moments or affectionate moments regarding them, I am reaching a point where I'm not silently--or loudly--grieving it.

I was not raised by my biological parents. That was a conscious decision they made, that had very little to do with new and everything to do with them simply not wanting to raise a kid at that point in their lives. They were stable enough. They weren't strung out. They just didn't feel up to the task.

As I got older and realized how different my household was (I had Grandma while other kids had Mom and Dad), I was curious about it. The situation was never sugar-coated or brushed under the rug. While she couldn't really pretend my parents were some unfortunate fairy tale type tragedies, she did level with me: They were not ready to care for you properly, so Grandma did.

She also let me know she would never have chosen anything different. While I'm sure she would have preferred enjoying her retirement or perhaps not having to navigate PTA meetings and extracurricular activities at a time when she should have been doing whatever it is grandmas do, she never made me feel like anything other than a regular, cherished kid.

Turns out, that didn't stop those feelings of abandoned from creeping in sometimes. I in particular hate Mother's Day and Father's Day. I don't really care for any holidays, actually. (I observe and participate for the kids' sake--they don't have the same issue as me so they aren't subjected to the effects of it!)

Perhaps because I'm naturally kinda reserved anyway, and shy, I never exactly acted out. I was never that kid who screamed or cried over it. I didn't cut up in school. I didn't develop any self-harm temdencies. For all practical intents and purposes, I was a normal kid. Possibly more bookish than most, and definitely more introverted, but nothing about me stood out as, "Hey, I'm hurting."

It did and does manifest though. I have been an overachiever since I was born--if I do it, I have to do it beyond my best or I'm not satisfied. I'm very slow to bond with anyone; I make friends easily enough but I always expect that they'll leave. (I'm not entirely unbothered, but because I expect it, I don't get flustered.) I guard my heart fiercely. I go above and beyond as a parent, perhaps as a way to prove that broken things can work just fine.

Know what, though? I proved to myself that I could be the mom I didn't quite have. I made it! It was scary, but I did (and do) it. My babies are my world. Because I've also addressed my issue, I won't pass it on in the form of a generational curse. They won't bear my cross.

I'm very careful about negatives. I don't label anything or make excuses for things that I know are manifestations of Little Tayè not having. Because I got some good old counseling, and eventually began applying the principles and working through the steps said counseling, I've been handling it all a bit better.

It's painful and uncomfortable, but I had to address it head on. I have to, still, as it doesn't go away. The...I don't know, itch? The itch to have that closeness with them still lingers sometimes. I have siblings. Nieces and nephews. I don't know these siblings as adults, because I'm only familiar with them as children. We didn't and still don't spend a ton of time together so it's awkward. We share the water of the womb but not necessarily the blood of the covenant.

I'm, in effect, an only child, because I don't fit in and I don't exactly desire to anymore. I needed to address the chapter and I did. I try not to put more into it than that, because they don't. They don't miss me, nor do they pine for my presence. They lead their lives and I lead mine, two paths that rarely meet. There isn't any ill will, just a disconnect none of us can fix. I imagine we don't really try!

We've reached a comfortable if not ideal spot, and that's enough.

This is why I say, healing must occur. It isn't just for your children, at first. It's for you. You cannot foster healthy relationships, self-image, and coping tactics in your kids if you don't possess these same tools yourself. You can't guide them through their own experiences if you're still lugging around baggage from your own unresolved messes. You'll poison them.

Don't pass along generational curses. Don't force your kids to bear and dwell in the same stuff that stunts you. Get healing--counseling, therapy, a hobby? Address it.

OHIO it. (Only handle it once.)