It's been almost nine years since I last posted here. A lot can
happen in nine years, thankfully for me, I can say, we are still here. Older,
wiser, bigger… perhaps more mature… I don’t know. What I do know is that I
still wonder at the magic of being called mommy every day.
The boys no longer have tiny feet that go pitter patter all
over the place. Theirs are those of young men. Still all over the place and now
carrying more thud than pitter. My parenting stance is more reflective, more
deliberate and more intentional.
A few years ago, I did a thing, it was a scary thing, knew
the consequences could be disastrous and I did all I could to mitigate the
chaos that I thought I foresaw. I blew the lid off the realities of careless
parenting by speaking about the uncomfortable realities of my upbringing, something extremely countercultural. I was recognizing
the effects of living in what I think, today, to have been a narcissistic-abusive power
dynamic between my parents and the reality of bearing the scars of wars that I never should have been privy to as
a child. You can listen to that podcast here.
Before getting in front of a mic as I did, we had had conversations
with my mother about leveraging our own healing to create a platform where
others can also start their healing journeys and that would also have been her
entrance into a counselling psychology practice…. Or so I thought.
Little did I know that I was about to blow the lid off a long
festering volcano that has completely shifted how I think about family and how I
relate with my own and others. The storms and battles that came from that
conversation led me to the realization that many among the generations of our
parents are sorely devoid of filial love or connection. See how many today, are
talking about their toxic parents. See today how many are finally going no
contact with parents and siblings who cannot see how their own actions
undermine the very notion of family.
In the aftermath of that podcast, I have seen with crystal clear clarity that I had never come out of the abusive system but rather had normalized things that one should never normalize from anybody no matter the relationship. I had normalized being dismissed, I had normalized having my words twisted to fit the agenda of the day, I had gotten used to being blamed for whatever needed blaming to carry the agenda of the day... wueh! so much! But I also got my power back. My power to stop and refuse to be a part of it. So, many years later and vindication looks like relatives coming to say that they also see it now and apologizing for their part to play in the chaos. Careless parenting is a thing, too many of us are products of careless parenting and barely know it and thus risk breaking our own children. Yes, alot has happened in 9 years.
Today I sit here, watching my young men grow and I know that
I cannot be the one to clip their wings with careless words or selfish
ambition. I watch them fumble and fall; and try to teach them the humble joy of
picking oneself up and working to do better next time. I listen to the
playground saga’s holding back my own biases and trying to use my words to
gently move them towards value-based decision making.
I remember my first pregnancy and the tears with which I swore
that the ones I carry would never cry the tears I have cried. As fate would
have it, time and circumstance (that I attribute to God and how He moves), have
seen to it that I see and understand the entirety of the roots of my tears,
that I may burn them away and in those places plant new trees that are sturdy
and strong enough to meet the sun with the courage and fortitude required to
thrive.
I watched Nyandia Gachagos story on the engage platform and I knew the weight of her words and the weight of her presence on that stage, watch it here. I will close with her words.
I am the mother I am today, the woman I am today because of and in spite of my parents.
Photo by Carlos Quintero on Unsplash
