See that tiny “0 payments left” in the bottom right of this screenshot? It’s a beautiful sight, isn’t it? It sure is to me. It means that I owe nothing else on my new car, and that baby now belongs 100% to me. I should receive the title today.
I still miss my old car, and if it had been a reasonable option, I would still be driving that one. But I won’t lie: the new car smell makes me smile every time I slide into the driver’s seat.
This feeling of pride and satisfaction, for paying off my car so fast, for being in a position to do it ourselves, is something that my husband and I have done our best to encourage and instill in the kids. Unfortunately, self-reliance, independence, and pride were actively and deliberately squashed in their other home, for many reasons, none of which benefitted the kids.
All of the kids are adults now, and it’s out of my hands what direction they choose to take themselves: toward healthy, autonomous, properly-functioning adulthood, or…well, what they see with others in their lives.
I am grateful that my parents raised me and my brothers to take care of ourselves and embrace self-reliance. We were excited to strike out on our own and shape our own lives. I took for granted that everyone wanted to be their own person–a real adult. It’s still unfathomable to me that anyone would happily surrender every drop of their dignity to remain eternally useless in exchange for daddy’s credit card.
My parents got to see all four of us kids grow up, get jobs, support ourselves, buy our first car, move into our first homes, climb all the rungs of the ladder to successful adulthood. Everything they taught us and fought for had sunk in, and we thrived on our own.
I wish they were here to see this car. I wish I could call them and tell them it’s paid off already, and all mine now. And most of all, I wish I could thank them for teaching me to stand on my own two feet, to master my own life, to value my work ethic and my independence. I am grateful that being any other way remains so damn unnatural –and extremely undesirable–to me.
I did a lot of thinking this weekend. I believe in truly understanding myself, my feelings, and clawing to the root of a problem instead of settling for what is often just a trivial top coat.
One thing I never anticipated about being a stepparent is that it gets substantially more difficult as the kids get older. I naively expected them to automatically surge forward, shape their own lives, and shed the straitjackets forced onto them during an abnormally chaotic childhood.
I assumed that is they want to do. Who wouldn’t? That is where I went wrong. I could not live under the suffocating thumb of malfunctioning individuals. I would be itching to heave their oppressive weight from my shoulders, spread my wings, and fly as high as I could.
The kids are not me. They will react, respond, and make choices based on what they are comfortable with, where they want to be, what they are willing to accept from themselves and others.
That has been my struggle: expecting the kids to want better for themselves, to hold higher expectations for themselves and for others, to fight to rise above the behaviors modeled for them all these years, and I am completely bewildered when that is not the reality.
I am not writing this to put down my stepchildren. I love them. I do not support all of their decisions, because I feel that they are selling themselves short, but I do finally understand that they are hesitant to unfurl wings that were discouraged and disparaged, by people they should have been able to trust, for as long as they can remember. They have grown up with unquestioned norms that inflict immeasurable wounds, but for them, that is simply the way it is.
I get it. It’s more comfortable, more familiar, for them to stay under that smothering rock, to be told what to think, to continue what they have learned and what they know best: lying, sneakiness, dependency, dysfunction. It’s sad, but I do see where it comes from. It would be hard not to.
Of course I expect them to rise above that, to want to be better than that…because I want better than that for them.
I don’t give them a free pass for accepting such low standards. Two of them have graduated high school and can no longer blame anyone, no matter how toxic, for the status of their lives. Where they are and who they are now is completely up to them, no matter how much they wish to foist responsibility onto anyone else.
I recently read (about narcissistic mothers), “Without proper healing, the child will pick up where the parent left off, by self sabotaging.” That made me sad. Yes, that is what seems to be happening with three of my stepchildren: they have not been given (and have not pursued) the opportunity to honestly face their upbringing, deal with it, heal, and move on in a healthier manner. Their self-sabotage is blatant to anyone who understands the situation without blinders. The fact that it doesn’t appear to be obvious to them makes me worry even more about them, the damage inflicted on them by others, and the denial of any problem that means they will not seek a healthier, saner path.
I can’t fix this for them. My husband and I have taught, coached, lectured, demonstrated, explained, modeled — have done everything but perform interpretative dance — to help them grow and learn and want better than the hand they were dealt by people who have ultimately failed them. We have counteracted as best we could with the limited time we had.
As they get older, it becomes more and more their own responsibility to direct and steer their lives. Watching them make choices that restrict, hinder, and obstruct their own growth and happiness is nothing short of heartbreaking. It can only considered a victory by those who self-servingly stifled them in the first place.
Part of a child’s maturation process involves the parents growing and learning as well. I know it is time to let go of that steering wheel for some of my stepchildren, even if I don’t support the direction they are heading. I have offered the best guidance, advice, and instruction that I could. What they do with it from here is up to them. If they choose to follow the footsteps of the same ones who deliberately shattered their wings, I cannot fathom it or condone it, but I refuse to hurt myself by taking responsibility for their crippling decisions.
I wish them the best. I pray for the best for all of them. I will always love them. Maybe someday they will wish for better, will stand up, and will strike their own path, and finally be truly happy.
A lot of advice and quotes about stress management revolve around “Don’t worry about what you can’t control.” Maybe that works for some things. But what if one of my major concerns is my stepkids? It’s impossible to just shrug them off and say, “Oh well. I can’t control other people in their lives, so why worry?”
But the sentiment still has some value. The fact remains, I cannot control the choices and actions of other people in the kids’ lives. I cannot make someone prioritize the kids if she does not want to see their value. I can’t make everyone focus on the well-being and safety of my stepkids. Some people apparently are simply incapable of caring about anything but themselves, and they have no intention of changing.
I have to keep reminding myself that all I can do is be here to listen, and continue to offer examples of healthy behaviors, responsibility, and respectful relationships. I have no idea if that is enough to overcome the astounding, staggering dysfunction they drown in with others, but I have to pray that it is.
I also need to focus on taking better care of myself. I tend to get wrapped up in worrying, dwelling on things, and start to neglect myself. That doesn’t help anyone: the kids, my husband, or me.
It’s not in me to easily wave off the kids and not give them another thought, the way other people in their lives do every day. I’m glad that’s not who I am. I don’t want to ever be like that. But I do need to start taking time and energy to focus on me.
Why is that a constant struggle? I seem to wrestle with that a lot. It’s ironic, because it’s something that I preach to our new counselors at work: self-care to avoid burnout and compassion fatigue. Then I turn around and don’t practice my own lessons, and I certainly feel it.
I saw the to-do list in the image above, and I smiled. I needed to see this today. I can only help the kids if I am strong myself. What good am I to them (or to anyone) if I am falling apart from stress and self-neglect?
So today I am going to practice my own preaching. I already made plans for a date night with my husband tonight. I am going to focus on the way he looks at me, the sound of his laugh, the way he always reaches for my hand across the table as he teases and jokes with me. I am going to open my heart to my many blessings all around me and hold those close.
I will always be here for my stepkids, because I know they need that. I just need to start being here for myself, too.
I expect a parent to be concerned when a child is failing one class and nearly failing another.
I expect a parent to make sure the children are actually attending school and arriving on time.
I expect a parent to refuse to allow individuals with known drug issues to live in the same house with the children.
I expect a parent to make some attempt to hold a job.
I expect a parent to notice when a child is chronically not turning in homework.
I expect a parent to encourage children to read, to learn, to take school seriously.
I expect a parent to care when a child has a painful injury and needs help.
I expect a parent to not take a young child to a sexually suggestive establishment.
I expect a parent to care about the dignity, self-esteem, and safety of all the children.
I expect a parent to actually earn the title, put in the work every day, not just perch languidly on a self-designated pedestal and wait for undeserved praise and attention.
Maybe I need to be more specific. I expect a good parent to do these things.
I expect a parent to be concerned when a child is failing one class and nearly failing another.
Sweat & Sparkle 