It Really Is Me

More from the good doctor . . . 

"Parents can try to teach the values and behaviors that they have found to be important but it is the way we live as adults that conveys the real message to our children about what we believe in.  Kids have a keen nose for hypocrisy.  If there are major contradictions between what we say and what we do, our children are likely to notice and be cynical, but as independent human beings, they bear the ultimate responsibility for how they incorporate into their own lives what they have seen or learned in childhood." 

"Those distinguished men had the nerve to say that most of the alcoholics under investigation were still childish, emotionally sensitive, and grandiose."  Twelve and Twelve, P. 124.

I laugh out loud when I read these observations from a clinical psychiatrist and see how easily I could replace "children" with "alcoholics."  If someone called me childish, sensitive, and grandiose it wouldn't bother me because I would have beaten them to the punch.  "Like I don't know I'm sensitive and, by the way, you forgot to add triumphantly self-righteous and smugly arrogant to the list," I'd add.

I had an emotionally distant father who was prone to angry outbursts and a somewhat depressed mother who was afraid of everything.  I ended up with all of these attributes, of course, and that was all I could see for the longest time.  My terrible parents and the shitty job they did raising me.  I made it sound like I was born in a war torn shithole country.  I was raised just fine; quite well, actually, in a supportive and safe environment.  My father had a quick wit and a great sense of humor and my mother was loving and unwavering in her commitment to the things that were important to her.  I couldn't see the good they passed on for the longest time because I was obsessed with blaming someone else - anyone else! - for my poor behavior.  I'll never forget aides and staff at my father's hospice ward coming up to me after he died and saying how much he brightened their days.  I was still having trouble focusing on what was wrong and what was right.

My parents were fine.  My parents were great.  I was the asshole.