Parent’s guilt. I’m not even sure when it officially begins, but it could be as early as when first looking into your child’s eyes and knowing that life will never be the same. That moment when imagining what it was going to be like to hold the responsibility of caring for someone else. The “shoulds” begin almost immediately with the thought of how we want things to be.
I “should” be with my child as much as humanly possible.
I “should” give them every opportunity to be independent yet fully set them up to depend on me for just about everything.
I “should” let go of all my personal needs and become Super Human to make sure my child gets whatever they need both physically and emotionally.
Something like that.
Due to my high expectations for myself as a mom as well as being a professional counselor, I have always placed a significant amount of pressure on myself to ensure my children’s physical and emotional wellbeing. I was the mom who made who made her kids organic baby food, who played Candy Land only using Spanish colors and numbers, who made more crafts than she was capable of….just so I felt like I was caring for and connecting with them at all times.
I hounded them on self-expression and good manners. I pointed out every life scenario lesson I could find. My goal was to ensure they were content at any given moment, because you know, that’s realistic. (insert sarcasm here) So when I found myself separating from my husband, my children’s father, it became an even bigger weight on my shoulders to make sure they were okay.
Life changed quickly when my marriage ended. Not only did I find myself waste deep in my own grief, I was constantly worried about managing the grief of my children. I assessed them often, always questioning how they were feeling, asking them to tell me what they needed and monitoring their moods to fill in out what they wouldn’t share.
I wanted to give them everything, yet didn’t want them to think that our new life was too difficult that they couldn’t still manage their own emotions. I wanted to shield them from all pain, yet let them experience it in their own way to find their own strength. My own mix of expectations of how to support them in this was inconsistent and downright annoying to keep track of. The learning curve of being on my own was huge, but how to be there for my children, on my own, was even bigger.
I recall the first time my daughter, who is a master at keeping her emotions in check (aka holds it all in), broke down the first time about our shared custody schedule. It was about 4 months after they had been going back and forth, but it was the first time the pressures of school were added in on top of the schedule. She cried and asked why couldn’t we just go back to the way things were. The back and forth was hard and tiring and sad. And it was. For all of us.
My guilt sky rocketed and I hammered myself with the same old questions of “Can I make it work? How can I fix this?” But instead the words rolled out, “The good thing about our schedule is that if you don’t like it one week, it changes the next week. Its constantly changing and we’ll adjust. ” That was all I could muster. I knew I couldn’t promise to make it okay, I could only promise to love them through the process and eventually it would be okay. We would adjust. The pain and discomfort is temporary. It always is.
I have had to teach myself how to assuage my guilt. I do so by retelling them stories of their early childhood, of our life together with their dad. We talk of our fun vacations and conversations and funny moments. Yet there were also many moments of discomfort and disconnect, but that doesn’t mean there have to be any regrets. We have always had and will continue to create, a life filled with contentment.
Over the last couple of years we have adjusted. We are constantly adjusting. I keep my guilt in check by not only reminding myself how much I do for my children, but also how essential it is that I do for myself. When I am out of balance, I can not be the support they need. My quest for balance in our single parent household is continuous but so essential. The longer I have been on my own, the more I have to dig deep for my internal resources and the more I’ve had to teach my children how to find their own.
I still look at “complete” families and crave the connectedness and stability. I want that for my kids. I want them to feel what it’s like to see their mom thrive in a strong relationship. I want to model for them how to make it work. Yet I also recognize that we can create that on our own and in so many ways we do. The adjustment is ongoing, but we’re doing it.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s where the guilt ends…at least for today.
Lynn Reilly, 40, is a single mother to two high-energy and kind-hearted kids who teach her just how many emotions we can feel at once. Lynn was a School Counselor to teens for many years and blogged about parenting before completely changing her life to focus on educating people on the inner workings of their thought and behavior patterns and re discovering their truest selves. She now runs her private practice in Connecticut as a Licensed Professional Counselor and Master Energy Therapist. She blogs about her passions and insights on www.healingwithserendipity.com