Sunday morning.
Too early for chores. Too early
to start nagging about and facilitating homework. Too early to start the laundry. So, what to do?
It has been a while since a blog post went out so how
about that? I write so much now that the
blog posts are extra writing “things” now rather than an outlet. I think that is good, right?
This week, the theme seems to have been mothers and
motherhood and mothering and parenting and …all of that shit. Anyone who has had a chance to get a hold of
my first chap book, or has read past posts, knows what all of that would do to
me: it tinkers with my workings and fucks up the wheels and the cogs. It has slowed me down somewhat this week,
which is not what needed to happen during a short week requiring catch up at
work.
Oh, well, the Universe seems to have a better grasp on
our needs than we do any way. So I offer
my reflections on this very full week in the hopes that it may be useful to
someone and to give thanks to those who help me keep my shit straight.
I have to lead off with a full excerpt from my therapist
and friend Neil Douglas-Tubb. The
excerpt is from his blog: There is a Door: thereisadoor@blogspot.ca
Mother
A
Simple Truth of the Way of Things[1]
It is a given that every child has a legitimate need
to be noticed, understood, taken seriously, and respected by their
mother.
This is beautifully illustrated in one of Donald
Winnicott’s images: the mother gazes at the baby in her arms and the baby
gazes at his mother’s face and in the process finds himself therein.
This is only possible provided his mother is really
looking at the unique, small, helpless being in her arms and not projecting her
own expectations, fears and plans for the child onto the child. If
she, is then the child will not find himself in his mother’s face, but rather
his mother’s projections.
This child is left without a mirror of self.
He or she needs their mother to reflect them back to
themselves.
If this does not happen, if the child is left without
a mirror, then for the rest of their lives they will be seeking this mirror in
vain. Thus we search in vain through our partnering to find the lost and
missing reflection that was missed in childhood.
Extracted from
Into The Light ... available on Amazon.com
Pretty heavy, right?
I would argue that this is also how we choose our life’s
work, as well as our partners. I chose
to be an adult who works with highly at risk youth because I needed the approval
and love from the most challenging people…they were easier to get love and
loyalty from than it was from my mother.
It served a purpose and at the time, early in my career, I had absolutely
no idea that what I was doing was so unhealthy for me or for those kids. I didn’t start to take notice until my grief
work after the death of those kids in 2012.
I didn’t see any correlation between my life and their lives until
then. My caseload mostly consists of
boys whose mothers were either physically absent through death or distance or
were unable to mother due to addiction, mental illness, or any other number of
issues.
I wanted to be their mother. That was my conscious goal. I was going to be their mother, at least
while they were at school, and I would make everything as good as I was capable
of, while they were with me.
They were “my” kids.
They were “mine.” I took on all
of their sorrows and woes and needs and made a mohair tunic out of their
suffering. We had so many cross-over
issues that it was easy to become the champion of these cast outs, these
rebels, these misfits. I was/am,
identify as a cast out, rebel, misfit. I
felt their pain and I was going to make it all better – make it go away - and
if I couldn’t, it would be on me.
Everything about them was about me: their behaviour, their inability to stay
substance free, their choices, their grades, their successes. I was deified through my ability to suffer
with them and carry on. I was deified by
my tolerance for their misbehaving and their abusive actions to themselves and
others. I was deified by the choice to
stand for the voiceless (so I called them when, actually their voices are/were
very strong…not many listened…even me).
I framed my identity on how great I was to work with them, to hear their
painful stories and sit with them in the heart of their anguish. I hung my whole perception of my self-worth
on how many kids would pass or graduate or stay alive. I created a whole person around my great
martyr mask and how amazing I was to work with “these kids,” and I was constantly reinforced in that
identity by my colleagues and my admin teams and by district people who would
say they had heard about my great work…people I didn’t even know. I had/have young teachers who say they tried
to get into my school to work with me because they want to do what I do and be
as awesome as I am.
At first all of that was really great. I would get the warm fuzzies from stuff I didn’t
really do: the kids’ successes are
theirs. Yes, an environment was created –
as a group – to foster that success but that did not belong to me any more than
their lack of success belonged to me.
I used to feel that I had done something wrong, missed
something, was disrespected if a kid came to class high or partied so hard on
the weekend they nearly died, or tried to kill themselves. Somehow I didn’t love them enough or make
them believe in their own worth. Ironic,
really, that I needed their love to give me worth.
After the car accident, about four long years after
the accident, I had an epiphany: my ego
was too wrapped up in the actions of the kids I teach and I was using them for
love and acceptance and to work out my life issues – my issues with my
mother. I was trying to mother my issues
out on those kids. When I really let
that sink in and owned that, I was sickened.
That is abuse, people. When we
work our shit out on those around us, that is abuse…AND WE ALL DO IT.
Now I see that my ego has no place in my work with
these kids, or with my kids, or my colleagues or my husband…they all get to be
who they are because they are who they are.
If they succeed, that’s all them, if they don’t that’s all them,
too. I am just here to mirror their true
selves to them – yes, as I see it – but as I see it free of my shit…free from
my reflection over theirs.
I had/have no right to use other people to reflect to
me what I needed from my mother. I
have/had no right to use other people to make me feel worthy to be here because
I don’t usually feel like that…that I am gate crashing this great party and not
many people would have invited me, if they had the choice.
I need to come to the place that I am a miracle just
by my being here. I don’t need to do “good
works” or be a martyr… “look at how amazing she is for working with ‘those kids’”…I
am amazing because I survived some fucked up shit and I am amazing because I am
filled with star dust and pieces of the Universe so ancient that we would have
to go back billions of years before our time begins to find the start.
This is true for all of us. We are worthy of love because we are
here. That is all. No good works or money or martyrdom will make
us more loveable. Our kids’ successes
don’t make us a success; their failures don’t make us failures. We want them to but they don’t.
So, for those colleagues, those new teachers who want
to be me – don’t. Keep your boundaries
clear and strong and remember that your ego has no place in your work. Do not wear the failure or success of the
kids – do not refer to them as “your kids”…they aren’t and that just makes the
emotional fallout and mess waaaay too difficult to clean up.
They do not reflect who you are or what you do.
You are not better than the rest of us because you
work with the kids you work with. You
have higher levels of tolerance for bullshit but why? Are you a door mat? Was that your role in your family? You absorb all of the toxic shit so that no
one else has to feel from it or learn from it?
DON’T! STOP IT! You are killing yourself.
But maybe you need to learn that for yourself like I
did. Not maybe…you do.
So now, the job is different because I am not so deep
in the shit…I have tried to learn to love the kids for who they are not for
what they reflect to me about me. I keep
my boundaries now…try really hard to…and not let my reflections cloud
theirs. I try to reflect to them their potential,
not mine. It is really hard because I
miss feeling that chaos/trauma bond for the intensity and the immediacy but I
know it will kill me if I continue and I am not helping them at all.
Thank you, Neil, for the inspiration to look into
these things more deeply. I see now why
I have been living the way I have been living.
My mother is a great caretaker. That is not a good thing. Caretakers take care…they don’t give it, they
don’t help, they take. They help when
you don’t ask. Like my mother: she insinuates herself into the chaos of
others in order to make herself indispensable.
She martyrs herself on the pain of others and is incensed when they don’t
thank her for support she gave that was never asked for. That is me…was me…I am unbecoming that,
hopefully. I was a great caretaker,
too. I am loosening the grip on that, I
hope.
It really is no surprise, then, that I became who I
did, when that mirror was held up to me and made me see that I am not worthy of
love without caring for the pain of others to make me look good.
Take care of yourself.
If your mothers did not mirror your worthiness of love because you are
here, know that you are made of stars and have the breath of the Universe
within you. That is why you are worthy
of love.
Blessed be you.
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