Tiny Buddha

Tag: parents

  • What My Parents Did to Me and Why I Cut Them Out of My Life

    What My Parents Did to Me and Why I Cut Them Out of My Life

    I wrote this letter to my extended family years after I chose to become estranged from my parents because many of them cut me out of their lives instead of reaching out to hear my side of the story.

    It pains me that I have lost contact with some of them because they refuse to see the full picture, and at times I feel as though I have lost a part of myself. Yet, at the same time, I am free.

    The letter you are about to read comes from a place of acceptance and longing. I have chosen to share this letter publicly because I suspect I’m not alone in what I have been through, and I hope my experience can be helpful to others in some small way.

    —

    I never meant for you to get hurt or caught in the crossfire. I never meant to place you in a situation where you found yourself questioning your loyalties and what you thought was true.

    From the outside you saw a happy home. You saw a child receiving educational opportunities and the latest technology, fashion, and trips around the world, and having birthday parties with friends and family.

    You saw pictures of vacations and holidays where everyone was smiling and appeared to be happy. You read the Christmas cards and email updates describing family vacations, accomplishments, and happy memories.

    You read about my sister getting sick, and you believed the beautiful story of a family coming together to overcome this adversity.

    At a family gathering you watched as my parents presented me with a gift before I went away to university. They acted so proud, and you found yourself thinking “What kind and loving parents.”

    Then, without warning, you found out that I was not speaking to my parents and they were not even invited to my upcoming wedding.

    Maybe you thought about reaching out to me to hear my side of the story, but you didn’t. Instead, you contacted them and you believed their story.

    You began to think that I was nothing more than a rude, entitled, spoiled brat who had decided that she didn’t need her family anymore and didn’t want to help her sister with her ongoing health problems because she was marrying into a “better family.”

    If you did contact me, you tried to convince me to change my mind. You didn’t listen to me and you became frustrated. You declined my wedding invitation and sent me a pity gift out of duty, or you chose not to respond at all.

    The years passed, and when another family member mentioned my name, you either said nothing or asked if I had “grown up and started speaking to my parents again.” Or, you questioned why they would want to continue to have a relationship with me.

    What you don’t realize is that I tried. Behind the family gatherings you attended, the pictures you saw, and the stories you heard, a very different picture was being painted. I kept quiet about this picture, and I even helped to paint it out of fear and shame.

    At times, I desperately wanted to believe that this picture was true. I tried to convince myself that it was, but I have learned that you can only endure pain and abuse for so long before you either give into it, surrendering yourself in the process, or fight to break free.

    After I left for university, I began to change how I saw the picture and I began to accept it for what it was, not what I so desperately wanted it to be.

    I reached out to my parents many times, I invited them to come and visit me, and I suggested activities that we would all enjoy together. I came home for holidays and tried to connect with them. I bought them gifts and tried to fill my old role within the family.

    Each time I reached out I was rejected; they made excuses as to why they couldn’t come and why they didn’t have more time to spend with me over holidays, and they continued to find ways to tear me down. The pain of this rejection ate away and my sense of self-worth, and I started to question why anyone would love or take a genuine interest in me.

    I invited them to award ceremonies and concerts, and while they appeared to express pride over these accomplishments, the story they told me was the same as it had always been:

    “You will never amount to anything. You are going to come to a sad end. They only gave you that award out of pity. You only accomplished that by luck. If you had worked harder you could have gotten first place. You are never going to have a successful career—that’s just a pipe dream.”

    I never told you about these comments or how they tore apart my self-esteem, causing me to question everything I did and everything I knew to be true, because they told me that you would never believe me, and I didn’t want to cause more conflict.

    Out of a sense of compassion I let my parents keep their picture, all the while hoping that you would see mine and reach out to me and be part of my life again.

    I hope you understand that no one comes to a decision like this lightly. For most estranged children, this is one of the hardest choices we ever had to make. A choice that we have agonized over with our friends, other therapists, and in the silence of our own minds.

    Often it takes years of hurt and pain to accept that we will never have the adult relationship that we want with our parents.

    We are taught that relationships with family are the most important relationships we will ever have, and we are socialized to believe that we should continue to have these relationships no matter how they impact us physically and psychologically.

    Society has painted a picture of the estranged child as being the problem, the emotionally unstable one, the one who asked their parents for money so many times they bankrupted the family and had to be cut off.

    Rarely do you hear the voices of the other side, the voices of the children so desperate for love, validation, and approval that they feel empty and continue to try harder and harder until they break. The children that long for their parents to take a genuine interest in their lives, without judgment, and walk alongside them in support during every phase of life.

    But for some of us this picture will never be, and we can either be consumed by that longing or accept the picture that is. I know that this may seem harsh, but sometimes acceptance holds the key to a better life.

    Once I accepted the picture that is, I was free. I still saw parents helping their children buy supplies for university, but I no longer wished my parents would come and help me.

    I still watched the proud parents with the graduates at convocation and longed to be one of them, and I still found myself imagining what supportive parents might have said at my convocation and my wedding, and yes it still hurts. It might always hurt.

    At the same time, I am free from the hope that maybe this time they will come, maybe this time they will be proud of me, and maybe this time I will be enough. I can grieve the loss of what I had hoped for, accept what is, and move forward with my life.

    If we ever talk again, you might ask me, “Would you ever talk to your parents now, now that you have grown up and are living the life you want?”

    As I start to answer that question I find myself again imagining the relationship I had longed for and still long for, but I stop myself. Instead I will ask you a different question: “Can you please forgive me for the choice I had to make and be a part of my life again?”

    Grandma wisely said, “Every choice we make will hurt or impact someone, but sometimes you need to do what is right for you.”

    When I chose to stop speaking to my parents, I had to not only grieve the loss of them but you as well.

    I don’t feel I can call you and reminisce about that time you taught me how to parallel-park, my failed attempt at making grandma’s Christmas pudding, or the camper I saw that reminded me of the one that grandpa had that we used to play in.

    I have no one who has lived through those memories with me to reminisce with, and this only fills me with a greater sense of loss.

    If we ever talk again you might ask me: “Do you hate your parents?” The answer is no, I don’t hate them. The truth is I don’t feel anything for them anymore. In my heart I have forgiven them for the pain they caused me, but I don’t want to open the lines of communication to tell them that, not yet, maybe not ever.

    As I think back on the relationship, and those years of pain, I acknowledge this experience has made me who I am today.

    I strive to live a full life. I fill my days with activities and work that bring meaning to my life and the lives of others. I trust my instincts and I am aware of how people and situations affect my well-being, and I work to reduce the negative impact of these factors whenever possible.

    I’m opening up about this experience because I hope you will start to paint a new picture that allows me to be a part of your life again. But if you don’t, then let me use this experience to help others.

    I have learned that some people can only give us so much, and I am grateful for the only gift my parents could ever give me—my life, a life I will live to the fullest, and one I want you to be a part of it.

    —

    To anyone struggling with the choice to become estranged from their parents, let me ask you these questions:

    Have you tried many times and been rejected? Do you feel that nothing you can ever do or be will be enough? And finally, do you hear their voices inside your head and then question your ability, your instincts, and your self-worth?

    If so, you may need to let go. If you do decide that this is the right choice for you, you will grow in ways you never imagined, and with that growth will come a sense of peace and self-love. You will learn to trust yourself and to care for yourself physically, psychologically, and spiritually which will lead to improved happiness and health.

    Researchers have found that abused children do not stop loving their parents; they stop loving themselves. After I stopped speaking to my parents, I became more confident, I began taking risks, and I learned for the very first time to love myself and accept the journey I am on.

    I earned two bachelor’s degrees, a master’s, and I started my PhD. I taught at prestigious arts schools and wrote and had articles published. My point is not to brag, only to point out that had I not let go of the relationship with my parents, I never would have accomplished any of these things.

    Their stories of what they thought I was incapable of and what I couldn’t be would have held me back, because I would have believed them. My relationship with my parents would have been like a dark seal that I would never have broken through.

    If this is true for you as well, know that you likely will not be alone if you decide to cut ties with your parents; odds are, there will be people in your life that will support you and even take on part of the role a loving parent would have taken. These people might be friends, friends’ parents, neighbors, colleagues, or even extended family. Any number of people might step up once they understand your story.

    They will be grateful for what you bring to their lives and will love and support you unconditionally. It will not be the same, but you will cherish these relationships because they are positive.

    A part of you may always long for a supportive relationship with your parents, but don’t fight this feeling; acknowledge it as a part of your journey.

    You might even find yourself questioning this choice years later and wonder if time could have healed this relationship. Remember why you made this choice, remember the pain, and trust that you made the right decision.

    Also, realize that you didn’t make this decision alone, although it may feel like it. Your parents helped to make this choice with you through their attitudes, their actions, and their refusal to be a part of your life in the way you needed them to. Knowing this may help to ease your feelings of guilt.

    And know this: If you are estranged from your parents, you are strong because you have taken back the paintbrush and are now free to repaint your picture with those who love and support you.

    —

    UPDATE: In response to some of the reader comments questioning her decision, Jen has posted a video follow-up to her article on YouTube here.

  • The Past May Have Shaped Us, But We Have the Power to Change

    The Past May Have Shaped Us, But We Have the Power to Change

    “If you want to fly, you have to give up the things that weigh you down.” ~Toni Morrison

    Our very first relationship is the one we develop with ourselves. However, even that one is shaped by outside forces.

    You may or may not believe that we choose our family. Regardless of your position regarding how your soul made it to your parents’ household, the truth is that the environment we are born into determines a great deal of the rest of our lives. This is especially true about the way we relate with ourselves and others.

    We learn by observing and experiencing the dynamics in our home. Our brains absorb the discourses. The judgments passed over us and the stories told about us become a part of our personality. The words we hear from the voices around us become embedded into our inner voice.

    We end up with a creation from the hands of Dr. Frankenstein: a patched up combination of voices that we later adopt as our own. That voice plays a huge role in how we develop a relationship with ourselves and, therefore, with those around us.

    The outside world shaped the inner reality that, in turn, will facilitate how we relate to that outer world.

    We learn from the way that our caregivers react to stress, from how they manage their anger, and how they engage in arguments.

    We learn from how they treat themselves, us, and the rest of the world.

    We learn about limitations and about fear.

    We learn to worry and to lie.

    We learn to yell out and to bottle it all in.

    We learn to over-react and to act like leaves at the mercy of the wind.

    We learn to micromanage and to be oblivious to life.

    We can learn the extremes. However, we can also learn balance.

    What is your vision for yourself? I’m talking about a real life vision, not about your annual income goal, or your income-to-debt ratio, or that degree you’ve been meaning to get. I’m not talking about the car you want or the trip you’ve dreamed of. Not that those things are bad or meaningless; they’re simply not a vision, they’re goals.

    What I am asking is: What is your vision? What state of being do you wish to create for yourself? What kind of relationships to you want to nurture? How do you want to feel? 

    My parents did their best to give me the best they had to give. I learned about hard work, being of service in the community, and believing in the divine. However, I did not develop anger management and conflict resolution skills, calming strategies, a healthy self-concept, or effective communication and decision-making skills.

    In other words, I was a typical clueless adult who was able to make money and run the rat race functionally. But I knew very little of myself, or how to develop healthy relationships with myself and others.

    As a matter of fact, I had no idea what healthy relationships looked and felt like. This led to a bumpy road that involved quite a few panic attacks, aggression, toxic relationships, isolation, and a social media and sugar addiction. The details of my journey are truly irrelevant. However, the lessons gained do have value.

    It started with answering questions I had never asked myself. Also, tools such as meditation, counseling, spiritual work, a lot of reading, journaling, praying, and developing a support village assisted me in the journey.

    Being open to the process is quintessential. So, I invite you to address the following questions with an open heart and observe your thoughts about yourself and others.

    Take note of the things you visualize on a daily basis. Do your visualizations match your vision? Or are they hindering it?

    What does a healthy relationship with yourself feel like?

    How about the conversations you have with yourself? How did that voice form?

    Where do these stories about yourself come from? Are you truly that person?

    How is your relationship with yourself? Are you hyper-critical? Do you “bash” on yourself? Or do you make excuses for yourself?

    What type of relationships do you envision for your journey?

    What type of narratives do you create in your mind with those who surround you? Do you imagine arguments? Do you mentally practice “come back phrases”? Do you spend time rehearsing irrelevant hypothetical situations? Do you declare negative labels on the rest of the world?

    Your early caregivers started the work of raising you, but you are the one responsible for continuing it. We are never done growing. You are not done. The universe is not done with you. Now it’s your turn to help yourself create the reality you envision for yourself.

  • Breaking Free from Manipulative, Narcissistic Parents

    Breaking Free from Manipulative, Narcissistic Parents

    “Authenticity is the daily practice of letting go of who we think we’re supposed to be and embracing who we are.” ~Brené Brown

    I happened to catch the last scene of the movie Moonstruck on TV a few nights ago. The scene marks the happy resolution of various plot threads, and yet I felt as if I was witnessing the sinking of the Titanic.

    It was like watching a demonstration of what I have come to understand as the two ways of being in this world: dominating vs. accepting, narcissism or bullying vs. kindness.

    Having come from a narcissistic family myself, it felt as if the movie was peering straight into my soul.

    In the movie, Loretta Castorini is engaged to Johnny Cammareri, an aging mama’s boy who never married, out of ‘consideration’ for his ailing mother in Sicily.

    In this scene, he bursts in, announcing that he can’t marry Loretta because it would kill his mother, and asks for his engagement ring back. In the next moment, Johnny’s brother, Ronny, promptly proposes to Loretta, borrowing Johnny’s ring to seal the deal.

    The movie centers on Ronny and Loretta, yet seeing the last scene isolated from the rest of the movie drew me to Johnny’s experience.

    There he was, controlled by his mother long-distance from Sicily, giving up his marriage in deference to his mother’s script about who he needed to be in order to support her needs.

    The confusion on Johnny’s face as his brother claims the prize of Loretta’s hand in marriage is heartbreaking. Johnny isn’t quite sure what is happening, and yet he dare not question his mother’s love, nor break free of his supporting role in his mother’s drama.

    His life has been spent, and, unless he wakes up, will continue to be spent, in service to her, at a great cost to him.

    I see myself in Johnny. I was well into middle age before I was able to break free of my father’s domination of my life, and I suspect that, like me, many people delay the beginning of their own lives out of misplaced fealty to the stories their parents scripted for them.

    For years, whether rebelling against my dad’s criticisms or craving approval from outside myself, I had, on a deep level, ceded the central role in my life to my dad.

    Whether we were close or miles apart, communicating or no contact, he was the sun, and I was orbiting his solar system. This is exactly how he wanted it, and I fell into place within the structures and systems of his universe.

    There is so much truth in humor. Johnny’s mother’s threats are played for laughs, and yet they are more than mere melodramatic manipulation.

    An acquaintance of mine energetically supported her narcissistic mother for decades. When she became aware of the family dynamic, she chose to withdraw her energetic support of her mother, and for the first time in her life, focus on herself as an individual.

    The potentially intimidating part is that her mother actually became ill.

    This is not to imply that my acquaintance should have continued to support her mother, it is simply to say that the energetic connection is real, and removing it, as necessary as it may be, is like removing a crutch someone has grown dependent upon.

    It sparks an enormous upheaval and rebalancing for both parties, and yet it must be done in order to achieve greater health and freedom on both sides.

    The saddest part for children of narcissistic parents, and also for partners of narcissists, is losing confidence in our own authentic feelings, hopes, and dreams. The narcissist’s insistence upon pretense, and the demand to suppress authentic experience can be very painful.

    The younger brother, Ronny, was lucky to have been the black sheep of the family; at least he was distanced from his mother’s demands. Nonetheless, he, too, was damaged.

    When we first encounter him in the basement of his bakery, he looks like a hurt animal hiding in his lair. He has a wooden prosthetic hand, as Loretta says, “like a wolf that has chewed off his own paw to escape a trap.”

    To narcissistic parents, a child is not a full-fledged individual, but rather a character in their story, and the roles they offer their offspring are severely limited.

    Whether a “golden child” who can do no wrong, or the “failure” who can do no right, in either role the child will feel that he must perform in order to try to keep or win the parent’s love.

    This is not love at all, but rather a form of abuse, which is worse for being invisible to all but those directly involved. The child is asked to give up her own feelings, thoughts, and needs in order to support the parents’ version of reality.

    The child, meanwhile, resists facing the direness of the situation—the truth of a manipulative or even an unloving parent—for she intuits that she needs her parents’ love in order to survive.

    At the same time, she may feel excruciatingly uncomfortable living inside the parents’ stories. Like Johnny, she may end up not knowing who she really is and what she really wants, having given up her own thoughts, emotions, and needs for so long.

    In the movie, neither brother escapes unscathed: Johnny, the golden child, was hobbled, tied to his mother’s apron strings, and Ronny, the black sheep, was also wounded and cut off from the rest of humanity.

    Like so many rebels among us, Ronny finds solace in the arts, in his case, opera. As a child, my passion for dance sustained me. It was an outlet for self-expression, and an opening for the magic I needed in order to survive.

    Funny to speak of all this in the context of a romantic comedy, yet perhaps the power of the story stems from its basis in profound truth.

    At the end of the final scene, Johnny sits alone as the family excitedly gathers to toast the new couple. He looks stunned, isolated, and lost amid the celebration. Then the grandfather approaches Johnny and extends a glass of champagne, offering the last line in the movie: “You’re part of the family.”

    And with that, Johnny is embraced in the warmth of the family, and I burst into tears. How different is this warm embrace compared to the demands of the narcissistic parent.

    Johnny is played as a buffoonish character, and the audience is fully rooting for Ronny and Loretta. Yet even clownish Johnny is embraced.

    This is love. This is real acceptance.

    This is the tenderness of the movie. This is its big heart, which is depicted, not just in the romantic passion of Ronny and Loretta, but more importantly, in the inclusion of Johnny in the celebration. As the credits begin to roll a toast is raised: “La famiglia!” To family!

    This is the archetypical image of the loving family. And yet many of us did not experience that. And many of us hide a secret shame that our families aren’t like that. I know that I was deeply ashamed for a long time that my story wasn’t pretty like that, until one day I realized that it was not my fault.

    On the day that I accepted my family as it was, and realized that I wasn’t responsible, and rejected the stories they told. On that day I reclaimed my right to my truth about what happened, what I felt, what I thought, and what I experienced.

    Reclaiming our stories—our truth—is how we take our power back.

    If any of this speaks to you, go watch Moonstruck. Johnny hasn’t woken up yet from the spell his mother cast over him. Ronny, with the help of Loretta’s love, breaks out of his hurt isolation and reclaims his life.

    Wake up and face your truth. Sometimes facing the ugliness is the route we must take in order to reclaim our own beauty and power.

  • How to Stop Blaming Your Parents for Messing Up Your Life

    How to Stop Blaming Your Parents for Messing Up Your Life

    Parents

    “Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It’s a relationship between equals.” ~Pema Chodron

    I was nineteen when it happened.

    Legally an adult, but in no way equipped with what I was expected to deal with.

    As I found myself agreeing to a marriage arranged by my mum, my thoughts turned to my dad.

    We had buried him two days prior. He’d suffered a lot before he died. I wondered what he’d make of all this.

    What followed my agreement was nothing short of a whirlwind, but not the romantic whirlwind that’s often associated with marriage.

    Sure, there was the buying of clothes and jewelry, the organizing of venues, and the excited congratulations.

    But then came the serious part. The living together. The getting to know your partner. The complete indifference to each other.

    And before I’d even acknowledged that I was a married woman, I was getting divorced.

    We weren’t suited. We didn’t agree on anything. I refused to live my life with someone I couldn’t stand the sight of. And despite my own shortcomings, there was one person I blamed for everything I experienced: my mom.

    If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have been married in the first place. I agreed to it because she asked me to—and because I wanted to see her happy.

    I’d been the black sheep in my family up until that point. Agreeing to something she wanted for me could be a fresh start, especially since she’d lost her husband merely days before.

    I felt guilty for saying anything but yes.

    So the fact that I agreed to the marriage for her was justification enough to blame her for everything that went wrong.

    It started with her, and so it had to end with her.

    I lived with this feeling for years. The resentment turned to anger. The anger turned to bitterness. And the bitterness led me to blame her more.

    Over time, I grew pretty tired of feeling like that. I didn’t see what function it had in my life. I was ready to feel differently.

    But my feelings towards her didn’t change after some miraculous revelation or insightful discussion. They changed gradually, and with a lot of questions.

    What had influenced her at the time?

    How had her life experiences shaped what she’d asked me to do?

    What had she gone through that led up to that moment?

    The more I questioned her, the more I understood her. And the more I understood her, the more compassion I felt toward her.

    Compassion didn’t have any room for judgment, resentment, or bitterness.

    It did, however, have a lot of room for understanding.

    And compassion taught me three clear steps that led me to forgive her:

    Step One: Recognize that parents are human, too.

    As the children of our parents, we often forget they had a life before us.

    They had experiences and challenges; they made mistakes and felt joy and regret.

    They had parents of their own, a childhood, friends, and relationships.

    They had an entire life before we came into the picture.

    Once I started seeing my mum as another human being, the dynamics of our relationship changed.

    Each experience we had was no longer a parent-child interaction. It was an adult-adult interaction. And this made all the difference.

    Rather than seeing her as my mother, who should be the adult in the relationship, I started relating to her like any other adult in my life, and I saw her for who she was—a woman who had lost her husband sooner than she expected, and was struggling with her own demons.

    Start seeing your parents as human beings.

    Recognize that they struggle in the same way you struggle. They feel fear, and loss, vulnerability, and joy.

    Once you do this, you can then move to:

    Step Two: Question them to understand them.

    This is both the most difficult and the most rewarding of the three steps, especially if your parents have done something seemingly unimaginable.

    If you’ve had parents that have abused you in any way, questioning why they did this can be incredibly challenging.

    It means you have to take yourself back to when it happened. Replay it in your head and put yourself in their shoes.

    By asking more questions, and seeing events from their perspective, your mind begins to open.

    If your parents abused you, ask: Why would someone do this to their child?

    What did they experience in their childhood and life before you that may have influenced this behavior?

    What was their relationship like with their parents?

    This doesn’t condone what they did; it just helps you understand.

    When I started questioning my mom’s motives to arrange my marriage, it became clear to me that she had been under an entirely different kind of pressure than me.

    She’d had pressure from her relatives to do the right thing and marry her children off soon. Having been born and raised in Pakistan, she had been conditioned to believe marriage was imperative for everyone.

    She had also become a widow at a very young age. After my dad had died, she was in no emotional state to respond to that pressure in a healthy way.

    The more I questioned her, the more I understood the context of what she had been experiencing.

    And this took me to the last step.

    Step 3: Forgive them.

    The understanding that you build about your parents could lead you to feel more resentment toward them.

    But this is unlikely.

    Because questioning leads to compassion, and compassion has a tendency to lead to forgiveness.

    And forgiveness means you can start to heal.

    Forgive them because it’s a remedy to your pain.

    Forgive them because they, too, can make mistakes.

    Forgive them because they’re human.

    I found myself forgiving my mom far quicker than I thought I would. Once she told me the pressure her relatives put her under to arrange my marriage, I saw that she acted in the best way she thought at the time.

    It became impossible not to forgive her and move on.

    This article comes with one huge caveat: your parents’ cooperation in this isn’t guaranteed.

    They must be willing to open up a dialogue with you for you to have your questions answered.

    And it will be tough, especially when they are forced to face their actions, demons, challenges, and frustrations.

    This means you have to see the bigger picture and be the bigger person.

    It means you must have the courage to take the first step. And you have to accept that there is some understandable explanation for their behavior if they aren’t willing or able to share it, even if they aren’t able to take responsibility for what they’ve done.

    None of this is easy, but it’s worth it to heal the wounds from your past.

    Parents image via Shutterstock

  • Breaking Free from Your Family’s Expectations

    Breaking Free from Your Family’s Expectations

    Break Free

    “Stop worrying about pleasing others so much. Do more of what makes you happy.” ~Unknown

    There comes a time in everyone’s life when you break away from your family. Right? We are all familiar with this. It happens when you turn eighteen, go off to college, and move out the house—and out of the state or country for some.

    This is the expectation of society on the whole. Then what keeps us so bound to our families that we sometimes feel paralyzed, afraid of making the “wrong” decisions for our career, relationships, or simply how we choose to live?

    Despite each of us eventually breaking through the normal cycle of leaving home and starting our own life, many of us still feel obligated to our family, more specifically our parents.

    We feel like we have to choose a specific career path or be with a specific type of person for marriage and beyond. It’s like this unspoken obligation to please our parents, except we know that it can’t last forever and there’s got to be another way.

    There is another way. And I know because I’ve been living through it over the past several years.

    I was a rebellious child, mostly because my father was so strict and I wasn’t allowed to do anything—well, not much. (I’ll give him some credit, while other credit goes to my mother for allowing friends to come over on occasion.)

    But rebellion doesn’t serve healthy relationships and is bound to transform into healthy independence and respect at some point. For some, it’s much later in life than others; I’ve spoken with several people in their late fifties who still feel obligated to their parents yet wildly rebellious and, thereby, resentful.

    For me, it started with realizing that I value family. There’s no getting around that. I love my family. Period.

    I also love myself, which means that there’s no way I’m going to give up my heart’s desires and dreams to acquiesce to what they think is best for my life, like I had to all throughout my childhood.

    Yes, I’m a passionate woman who has a strong desire to break free of the practical way of living. And that’s exactly what I’ve done.

    At the same time, I demanded and knew in my heart that true love, especially love between family members, ought to stand up to tests like this.

    No doubt, it came with its price. There were several moments when I had to share my desires while lovingly holding space for my family to simply be. I came to them on several occasions over the last years (or they came to me and I opened up) with conscious decisions I made for my life.

    Now, let me reiterate this: conscious decisions. If they weren’t conscious, there was no way I could have done this. So, I shared with them my conscious decision while I stood in the fire of their adverse opinions and reactions.

    Standing in the fire means I held on to my desire and my love for family while I faced down their criticism. This was challenging. And it burned.

    I could feel it all throughout my body. But because I had consciously decided with a strong intention of love and a knowing that it came from my heart, I was able to hold on to my center—no matter what.

    I was able to stand there and let their criticism and opinions wash over me while remaining in a loving space. This would not be possible without that conscious choice.

    Since then, even though it’s been a process and there are still many fires to stand in, it has been increasingly easier to simply be me and share my “unpractical path” with them. Their expectations are beginning to subside, as they realize that my life may be a bit unorthodox.

    I love them anyway. Yes, you heard that right: I love them no matter how unorthodox my life is; therefore, I can influence them to drop their defenses and decide whether they’ll love or hate me because of the life I choose.

    By standing up for myself in this way, I let go of any power they had over me and hand it back to them, giving them the option to continue loving me or not. Because I know that no matter what they choose, I’ll always love them.

    Standing up for yourself isn’t an easy process. It’s especially hard when you’re trying to build a life for yourself that you actually love, because that’s the time when you most need support.

    Holding on to the earnest vision that only good can come from standing in your heart’s desires, you’ll realize what true love really is, and it will completely reframe how you approach life and relationships.

    Family often has no clue of the ties and chains they’ve placed on you; therefore, it’s important to come from a loving place when standing your ground and claiming your life.

    They don’t know what they’re doing. Would you punish them for that? I wouldn’t. I didn’t. I chose to love them anyways, no matter what, the same way I desire to be love, no matter what.

    Break free image via Shutterstock

  • A Reason to Forgive Your Parents (And How to Soften Your Anger)

    A Reason to Forgive Your Parents (And How to Soften Your Anger)

    “If you cannot forgive and forget, pick one.” ~Robert Brault

    I used to hate my parents.

    I despised them. I blamed them for most of my issues.

    I couldn’t do what I wanted to do in life because they would disapprove of it. I couldn’t be a cop or firefighter because those professions didn’t make enough money. I could only study a major that would be beneficial in getting me a job and not one that they thought was pointless, such as psychology or sociology.

    I hated my dad for never being there when I was a child. I hated him for always getting angry with me and yelling at me and making me go to my room to cry by myself.

    I hated my mom for not sticking up for me. I hated her for not sticking up for herself when my dad would yell at her. I loathed her for her laziness and blamed her for my own because she didn’t teach me to work hard on a task and to persevere through the tough times.

    For a few years I felt this intense dislike of them and never told them. My anger kept building and building, and you know who had to live with it and deal with it? I did.

    I smiled happily toward them and the outside world, but inside I was dying a slow death.

    Dwelling in anger and hate is like drinking a poison that slowly destroys your insides and kills you. There’s a reason why the Jedis in Star Wars say that anger and hate lead you to the dark side.

    The reason is because it will eventually cause you to lash out and cause damage to the people around you.

    And that’s what happened to me. My façade of happiness crashed down upon me after a few rough weeks during my junior year of college. I had a meltdown and attempted suicide.

    Most people will not act as extremely as I did, but that doesn’t mean their pain is any less than mine. I see others who carry lifelong anger and hatred toward their parents because of their childhoods.

    It’s a burden they carry with them, and they cope with it different ways, whether it’s through addiction, working too much, or something else that slowly erodes their insides because they fail to address the anger and hatred there.

    I struggled immensely after my suicide attempt. That first year, though, was when I started to realize something that would change my life for the better.

    Anger and hatred mainly affect the person holding them because they are the one who destroys their life and relationship because of it. You don’t forgive for others’ sake; you forgive for your own.

    When I realized this, I started on the long journey that is forgiveness.

    I wish I could say it is like the movies, but it isn’t, at least not in my experience.

    I have found that forgiveness takes a continual effort over weeks, sometimes months. It’s something you have to consciously do every time your anger arises.

    Your anger and hatred fade away over time as you consciously reframe your thoughts and feelings to ones of forgiveness.

    I started by first writing in my journal about what my parents didn’t give me when I was a child. I don’t mean things; I mean love, affection, and guidance.

    I then started to give myself those things.

    And then I learned how to see things from my parents’ angle and have compassion toward them.

    I realized that their parents didn’t give them all that they needed. I saw that they were just trying their best and they were human like me, which meant that they had flaws and made mistakes.

    I saw that they were every bit as lost as most of us are at times, because life has no guidebook.

    I saw the little child within them.

    As I started to forgive them, I became warmer toward them and appreciated them more. I started to say “I love you” to them, and surprisingly my dad started to say it back. He had never really said it to me before.

    I eventually had a semi-movie moment with my father after months of working on myself. I told him that I hated him for the longest time, that I know he was just trying his best, and that I forgave him for his mistakes. I told him I understood that I was an adult now and was responsible for my future and myself.

    My relationship with him changed dramatically after that moment.

    It isn’t super intimate but it’s better than it ever was. My father has said “I love you” to me without me saying it first. We smile at each other and have made each other laugh.

    I have become close with my mother after forgiving her. I trust her and confide in her about the struggles I go through. I am so grateful to have her in my life.

    I love them both very deeply and none of this would have happened if I didn’t learn to forgive.

    Learn to forgive others if not for their sake, for yours.

    I have learned that as I change for the better, so do all of the relationships in my life.

  • The Secret to Getting Along With Your Parents

    The Secret to Getting Along With Your Parents

    Family

    “My experience is that the teachers we need most are the people we’re living with right now.” ~Byron Katie

    Nothing hurts like being misunderstood, and there is no place that this feeling runs rampant quite like it does with family.

    I used to think I was the only one.

    For years after I moved out, each visit back home would be preceded by careful, specific preparation. I would try to brace myself for whatever would be coming my way.

    I would spend the entire two-hour bus ride turning all of the possible criticisms and probable arguments over and over in my head. I would rehearse ways I could react to various imagined scenarios.

    I thought preparing myself would soften the blows. It didn’t.

    Ram Dass once said, “If you think you are enlightened, go and spend a week with your parents.”

    Imagine my embarrassment and hopelessness at thinking I’d finally cracked the secrets of peace and happiness, only to find myself welling up with the same old anger and resentment each time I faced my closest relatives.

    Even after I began a journey of personal and spiritual growth, visits back home were toxic.

    I would prepare. I’d show up. They would judge me. I’d react. Then, I would judge myself for letting their judgment get to me. Then, they’d judge me for letting it get to me. Then, I’d judge them for judging me. It would be a giant, exhausting mess.

    Each time I returned home, I would be exhausted and wondering how I’d ever lived with these people in the first place.

    One day, in the midst of recovering from such a visit, I found myself in an intimate conversation with a friend about beauty. She shared with me how she sometimes felt so disgusted by her reflection that she could hardly function.

    I empathized, letting her know that I had suffered with that severity of self-hatred for close to ten years.

    I said, “You know what I’ve learned? It wasn’t my reflection that was hurting me. It was my expectation that, every time I looked in the mirror, I would discover someone else, some other person who wasn’t me. Jennifer Aniston maybe? But Jennifer Aniston never showed up. It was always just same, old me. That was what really hurt—the expectation that was never met.”

    Immediately after the words poured out of my mouth, my mind lit on fire.

    I realized, with stark clarity, that the same relationship I used to have with my reflection, I was having with my parents. I kept showing up, time after time, expecting different people to magically appear.

    I kept expecting that they would change.

    When I told my partner about my epiphany later that evening, he looked amused. I asked him why he was smiling like that.

    He told me, “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you. I’ve definitely said this to you. Many times! You’ve said it to me too!”

    I was surprised, but not for long. I thought about my relationship with myself and how I’d heard messages of self-love, self-acceptance, and self-forgiveness, but it took me years to truly internalize them. Maybe that’s how it was with my parents. It wasn’t that I didn’t know the answer. I just had to be ready to experience it.

    The next time I went home, it was like a whole new world. I didn’t brace myself for criticism, nor did I plan my words. I just showed up with the assumption that, maybe, they would never change.

    This simple belief completely transformed my relationship with them. Suddenly, I could see them for who they were. They were, and always will be, flawed and beautiful, just like me.

    I could suddenly smile at their criticism and laugh at their judgment. I could embrace them even if they didn’t feel like embracing me. I could understand them even if they misunderstood me.

    I used to think that people who had good relationships with their parents had perfect parents.

    That’s just not true.

    People who get along with their parents have just as many family conflicts as anyone else. They just choose to accept those conflicts as part of life, and love their kin anyway.

    For me, learning to accept my family, just as they are, opened up new doors of opportunity.

    Right after I started practicing understanding and acceptance toward them, I got the inspiration to work on a book. I got the passion to start my own business. I got the courage to speak my message loudly.

    All these things happened within a few months of my epiphany, and I can’t pretend that the timing was a coincidence.

    I honestly believe that our expectations of our families, our own judgments about them, hold us back in ways we can’t even imagine. I honestly believe that, if you can learn to love your parents, just as they are, you’ll unlock boundless potential within you. I truly believe that this is the one missing piece that most people don’t realize is missing.

    Of course, it’s not easy. Nothing worth having is easy, but it’s always simple.

    And this is my simple message, today and forever: accept and allow. That is the path toward peace, love, and serenity.

    Photo by pilostic

  • Learning to Forgive Our Imperfect Parents for Their Mistakes

    Learning to Forgive Our Imperfect Parents for Their Mistakes

    Parents

    TRIGGER WARNING: This post deals with an account of physical abuse and may be triggering to some people.

    “Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them.” ~Oscar Wilde

    I couldn’t tell you if Oscar Wilde’s quote is entirely accurate. You see, my biological parents abandoned me and left me with my grandparents at birth.

    Growing up with grandma and grandpa was the best childhood I could have ever imagined, and I didn’t miss my biological parents at all. I guess in that sense they were my parents, and perhaps Oscar Wilde’s point is correct.

    However, my biological parents eventually came back. During the summer before my fourteenth birthday, my parents came and took me “home.”

    I didn’t know much about my new parents, but within a few days here’s what I did know…

    Mom and Dad didn’t love each other.

    They argued every single day, putting each other down in ways no child should ever hear. Their unhappiness toward one another would often times escalate from verbal abuse to physical fighting, and when their fight was over, the final punishment always landed on me.

    Perhaps it was because I couldn’t stand seeing the anger, violence, and sadness. I couldn’t stand seeing my father beat up my mother, so I would get into the middle of their arguments to stop the fight, even if it meant getting beat up myself.

    The days and nights were filled with chaos. I felt like I was walking on eggshells, not knowing when one parent was going to explode and punish me for their bad marriage. My fear turned into anger, and the anger brewed to a boil inside me. I couldn’t continue living like this.

    Arguments and beatings went on for years until I finally collapsed and I ran away from home.

    As expected, both my parents disowned me the moment I left the house.

    In fact, my mother was so mad she didn’t even allow me to come back and pick up any of my belongings. At seventeen years of age, I left to start a new life with my backpack and one set of clothes.

    When I left home I was still in high school. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but the risk of going back was far greater. I made up my mind and there was no way I could ever go back. To me, our relationship was over.

    Luckily, my best friend’s parents opened their door to me. They let me stay in their home until I graduated high school. I got a part-time job to help contribute. Things were looking up, but inside I was building resentment and blame toward my parents for putting me in this situation.

    For years after high school graduation and into college, I continued to blame my parents for not having enough food to eat, clothes to wear, and somewhere to belong.

    I blamed them for everything.

    I had made a promise to never talk to them again, and I kept that promise for seven long years. But as time passed and life experiences taught me new lessons, I learned that resentment and blame were emotions that hold and push you down, never to let go.

    Like it or not, it was time for me to let go and forgive.

    I’m not going to say it was easy, nor am I going to say I didn’t have doubts throughout the entire process.

    But I eventually learned to stop blaming my parents for my life. It was like a load of bricks was off my back. I was finally free from this emotion that I had carried with me and which had shaped my life for so long.

    Learning to let go and forgive taught me that:

    Parents also hurt.

    Sometimes we forget that our parents have lived a life and have had struggles too. We don’t always know about their pains and sorrows. I see now that I have the ability to help them overcome and grow.

    No one is perfect.

    We’re not perfect, so why expect our parents to be? Parents make mistakes too. Of course violence is not excusable, but people make mistakes, and we cannot hold a grudge forever.

    Forgive them.

    It wasn’t easy for me to forgive my parents, but forgiving them gave me peace in my heart. When we hold anger inside of us, we’re the ones that get hurt the most.

    Take the initiative.

    I wanted a relationship with my parents, and so it was I who needed to take the first step and reach out to them. We have to be the ones to step up and harvest it, otherwise, who ever will?

    Build trust.

    Rebuilding trust when there was none (or very little) to begin with is a difficult process that’s going to take time. There’s no secret or shortcut. Get right into it and start by being honest with one another, even if it hurts.

    Stop judging.

    I would always ask myself why they couldn’t be better and listen, care, and love. I had to learn to accept them for who they were. As soon as I was able to accept them as my parents, and accept them for who they were, I was able to accept myself for who I was.

    In the end, all you can do is try. There are no guarantees.

    Before making the decision to call I prepared myself as best as I could for total rejection, and at the same time I defined what a win would look like—what could happen that would make it all worth it. All I could hope for was a small token of reciprocation.

    So, after seven years I picked up the phone and called my parents. We shared a thirty-minute phone call, first with my dad and lastly with my mom. To my surprise, there was no anger, just sadness. They listened more than they spoke, and I could feel that they were hurt because they had hurt me.

    I could see that they had changed, and perhaps it was only then that they were ready for this call.

    I hung up and could feel a sense of relief take over, and I knew this was only the beginning.

    I realize now that change must go both ways. And, if your parents are still abusive and are not ready, or are not willing to be ready, then you must go on with your life. Your life cannot wait.

    Today my parents and I have an open relationship. It’s still a work in progress, but I believe it’s something worth working for. We all have changed for the better, and I am certain this was how it had to be.

    I forgive them for all they did and accept them for who they are.

    If you have resentment toward your parents, what’s preventing you from forgiving them?

    Photo by Belezza87

  • Depending on Yourself in the Uncertain, In-Between Space

    Depending on Yourself in the Uncertain, In-Between Space

    “To get something you never had, you have to do something you never did.” ~Unknown

    Life has been strange the past few days.

    All summer there was a trip or an event to count down to the final move—my brother’s wedding in Sedona, Captiva Island with my boyfriend’s family, Thailand with a girlfriend and, finally, a week in Atlanta.

    I have nine days left before the movers come, and I feel as though I’m existing in a space without anything to hold on to.

    My world here in Florida will soon be a memory, and I have no way of knowing what my life in North Carolina will look like. I fantasize about it, but it’s all conjecture.

    The summer getaways provided a distraction for me, obscuring the view of the unknown that was swiftly approaching. My former relationship acted as a life preserver that I knew would be with me no matter where I floated. Now, both have dissolved into the past.

    Very few people in this world feel an obligation or a desire to plan their lives around you.

    Although I have been gifted with amazing and loyal girlfriends, they have their own lives. It’s my parents and significant others that I have counted on for the heavy labor, when the help I need is neither sexy or fun.

    Although my ex-boyfriend would help me move with kindness in his heart, I don’t want to depend on him for this. It seems like I would be carrying on the illusion that I still have the security of our partnership. And what about my parents? Isn’t that always a loaded question…

    At 29, I am confused about my parents’ role in my life.

    While they offer to do whatever is in their power to make difficult times easier for me, their assistance comes with some strings attached. As I move toward making decisions in my life with less input from them, I am also electing to forgo their help in many ways.

    People with long-time partners or even those who still have a cozy and safe place with their parents can say, “What’ the big deal? You’re a grown woman; you can move by yourself.” (more…)

  • 5 Ways for Parents to Manage Anxiety

    5 Ways for Parents to Manage Anxiety

    “I vow to let go of all worries and anxiety in order to be light and free.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

    I thought I had relinquished anxiety after a few years of mindfulness and meditation. Then I had a baby. It is incredibly easy for us mothers to slide into permanent guilt and anxiety.

    After a few minutes of watching my thoughts, I noticed they ran something like this:

    “My baby is sleeping too much. Should I wake her? Oh no, she hasn’t slept enough and I woke her. I shouldn’t have woken her, I’ve ruined the day. How am I going to fix this? I can’t fix it. I have no idea. I’m a bad mother. She has no routine. I need to put her into a routine. But it’s too late! How will I do this? I should have done it earlier!”

    And so on. Endlessly. Hourly. Daily. It got to the point where I didn’t feel like a caring mother unless I was worrying about something. Then I realized that my anxiety was the only thing that would damage my daughter.

    Babies pick up on all of our emotions. That’s why having a child is a great opportunity to grow as a person. We care so much about our children that we don’t want to lumber them with our old habits and negative emotions. We must move past our pointless worries, but how?

    I have been trying out a few mindfulness techniques and found them to be extremely helpful.

    Prior to this, I was compulsively flicking through endless books by “experts” on sleep, routines, feeding, and general parenting.

    None seemed to be right for the individual needs of my child, so I figured it was time to go within and discover the answers for myself. (more…)