I've been finding the last few days and weeks more challenging than usual. I know part of it stems from working through the undealt trauma of Jase's story but life has presented it's own variation of obstacles.
Raising children is difficult, I have never doubted that. Surviving teenagers, that's a whole game changer. Often it is a joke, a smirk. This week it has been hard to laugh off.
This week the eldest and I have fought more than ever. I remember my Dad losing his patience quite often when I was fifteen, so as children bring their own rules and karma drama, trying to remain intact as a supportive human can reach it's limits. It is only natural for a mother to worry. It is only natural for a mother to see bad outcomes outside the norm. To counteract my anxiety, I have always sought more information. Miss fifteen is determined to dominate her independence. Her mother is still reluctant to let go of the tether to try and keep her safe. This has led to multiple emotional discussions over plans to camp on the riverside bank with her friends overnight.
I have been lucky. I know, the way to look at it for me, was I was shielded by my fat suit. Most teenage boys found me a joke to consider as a girlfriend and offered me some protection from jerks and assholes. I also read people extremely well, scarily well, in some cases. My daughter, although a good judge of character, still occasionally offers a naive point of view which I would love to protect but also protect her from. I know I'm biased but my girls are stunning. They are tall, fit and everything most people idealise as they grow up. I know it can create interest when it's not warranted.
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My girls have been lucky enough not to be exposed to some of the more negative parts of growing up, alcohol, violence. I am proud of the fact they haven't had to live in fear but at the same time, it has created more fear in me because the reality is, it won't last forever. It is only a matter of time before these experiences will shape their reality too and I know, for me, it changed the way I viewed and navigated the society I grew up in.
My exposure to incidents of violence through out my life keep me on high alert. It is a blessing and a curse. I see evil where there is none but it has also helped me to change my circumstances for the better. Yelling matches every week and booze-fueled animosity will never be a component of my children's upbringing. I am sure there are people who are exposed to alcohol in a positive way but, it is rare for me to witness it. The innocence of exploration can delve down paths we wish for no one but is all too common in our society. It's not just our society either. Many cultures welcome alcohol as a tool of relaxation. My father by the end was ruled by it. Growing up Italian, it was constantly at the dinner table. It was welcome for children to drink. The other spectrum of my upbringing, binge drinking on a Friday night, the norm. Plastered and incoherent parents were normal, an experience I absolutely abhorred. It was easier for me to hide from it in my room. If I ever emerged from my protective barrier, it usually allowed a freedom of thought no longer being hindered by social propriety. I was often told what people thought of me, constantly. From my looks to my personality, there wasn't a week with either parents where I was told what I was doing wrong and how I was going about it incorrectly.
Maybe, I'm just being paranoid. Maybe I am being a helicopter mum in this instance. This week would have been easier if I had someone to back me up.
That has been the hardest part - not having a second viewpoint. Jase often offered a quiet strength. He usually let our discussions go but would step in if we couldn't reach a valid conclusion. I get where my child is coming from but sometimes I feel, as a parent, my feelings being invailidated. Last I checked, I'm also only human. I also know, I have never parented a fifteen year old before. I'm learning all of this as I go too. I have my own experiences to rely on but as I say, I was lucky and had an armour of fatty tissue to protect me to a degree. Not having the second voice to rationalise my emotions or to support my fears as being valid. To be told I am not going crazy with the anxiety I constantly feel from raising two young women. I had an older brother to look our for me. Even as I grew older, I knew my younger brother offered a buffer of protection. Some women don't have that in any form. We trust until we no longer can. We have faith we are strong enough but sometimes, we are not.
I don't know what it is about me, but there are times where complete strangers tell me their life stories. I am flattered by my apprachability but it also offers me insight into some worlds I may not have been privy to. Being an empath, I take their stories on board. I listen and try and allow their realities to not seep in. As a mother, however, it is difficult to ignore those possibilities. All I want is for my children to remain safe but at the same time be aware that is not a probable outcome. Life presents challenges and my children will have to divert their compasses through multiple directions to find their current. Is it so wrong of me, however, to be their beacon for just a little while longer?
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