Some time ago I had the privilage of being a child with two living parents. I really did not have any great struggles, at least in my opinion. I had no great successes, never had to be bailed out of jail and was probably just a little different, but not any different than your average bump on a log.

My older siblings had similar situations, no great claims on fame, nor infamy. Although there were times when my brother did come close. Truth be known, it was more than a couple of time, but less than several and again, he never murdered anyone, so probably not that bad.

In my mother's view, she still had a tremendous amount to complain about. Were we successful? Success being translated into her version, status, money, nice house, better than she had. That was her version of success.

Dysfunction was a word that I was relatively unfamiliar with at the time. I didn't realize that her versions of success and happiness grew from a place within her that lacked what she craved, what she really wanted herself. It was years before I understood her orientation and her success, that she herself did not completely understand or see.

Her life was not an easy one. She grew up in the depression, she was molested as a child, she was independent and non conforming, her father was an alcoholic, her status in society did not match her ambition. She had adventure, she grew emotionally and she met my father. After a courtship with some tempestuous moments, they married. Her mother in law was a pain in her existence for decades, and in some ways this affected her marriage. All things considered it was a successful marriage in spite of that.

In my world, I looked up to my older siblings. Sometimes they looked down on me. I could never understand why our family did not seem to be the Donna Reed variety and the Father Knows Best type. TV was a huge factor in the early 1960's and it was giving me a template of behavior to follow, that once again I could not quite live up to.

I don't think that I successfully completed the aforsaid model of perfect child, adolescent, teen, or adult. I just ended up bumping along. I did inherit some of my mother's competitiveness after all. I chastise myself for the things that I did not do that would have brought me some measure of material success, I despise the parts of myself that seem to prevent me from being like other people. In all this though there is the other side of me. ME. The real ME.

I don't know where the hell She came from, but She never lets me down. Maybe it was from my mother and her fighting will. What mother could control and should, she did to a degree. I have tried to do the same. In many cases I have failed but the effort has been very good and the effort is what counts.

I had shitty mother in law experiences too. I have a good husband, just as my mother did. No, it was not how I thought it might end up. However, I am, like my husband said not to long ago to my son, "Here is Pollyanna". Of course I doubt my son understood what that meant, and some out there might not understand either, but that is what I am really good at.

I tend to frame experiences in a couple of different ways and appreciate them for lessons learned and opportunities offered. I am not sure that came across in my mother's way of thinking. Sometimes when I look back, I see she was just out of the bit of energy needed to turn some things around. She had fought so many battles that she just didn't have the energy to meet the enemy and change the course of events. She had a lot of trouble being positive. I am by my nature always seeking positive balance. I am a framer. I appreciate perspective.

My brother took advantage of my mother's nature. He worked it. He took a wounded approach to everything he didn't understand and a sense of entitlement then because of his wounds. My oldest sister had unrealistic expectations and never met her challenages head on and with a sense of self determination. They were loved by my parents, but they never understood how much and how sad that their own behavior made them feel, and my parents. My parents desparately wanted my older siblings to be successful, balanced, but that utopia escaped them. It escaped them all. I see them as successful in some ways, but in some very important ways, not really. It does not affect my life though, I just see what a parent might feel about that, one who wanted better for them.

In my mind I have an opportunity to help my children realize their own version of success. As long as they can take care of themselves and feed themselves in the world, as independent functioning adults, they will be successful on many levels. They will own all their own experiences and I will be pleased to see their satisfaction of self.

I appreciate their individuality, I endorse their efforts and their talents. I embrace their emerging selfs, as I always have. I seek to place no stamp on them of my version of their ability and potential. I want them to discover their own lives and live it with no regrets.

I am still working on myself. I am still honing my talents and I will do that until I am finished. Literally. If they see me doing this, they will in turn understand that no one other person can make themselves complete or whole, they must make their own life, on their own.

Strong personalities must know when to let go and let their children develop on their own, still being supportive but in measured ways. I can appreciate that. I hope my children will someday too.

 Copyright 2011 by SheilaTGTG55