Sunday, March 8, 2015

Like looking in a mirror

I spent a little time looking at a photo album of my baby pictures the other day. And I was struck by the similarities between these photos of me and of my son. (Top photo is me; bottom is my little one).



I mean, come on. That's the SAME smile. Identical. Obviously, this is not a shocking revelation, being that I'm his mother, but still, it floors me all the same. Looking at him really is like looking in a mirror sometimes. And sometimes, that can also be a bit painful.

You see, when I was a little girl, I came to believe at some point that I was flawed. Deeply, irrevocably flawed. I was too much in so many ways--too sensitive, too emotional, too chubby, too difficult. I heard many stories about what a pain I was: I had colic and kept my mother up all night; I threw temper tantrums in public; I talked back to adults; I was scared of everything; I was overly emotional. I heard these stories after my father had left us (when I was 3 years old) and came to a miserable conclusion--he had left because of me. I was just too much trouble and clearly not lovable. And I carried that belief with me from then on.

I'm sure I was a handful as a child--highly sensitive, intelligent, easily overwhelmed by the world. I'm sure it was difficult for my father, who had deep-seated problems of his own, including addictions to gambling and pills, to manage parenting me. But I look at this picture of me, and I see that I also was full of joy, light and love. I wasn't a flawed child, I was radiant and perfect. Just like my son is radiant and perfect.

When I look at my boy, I see such light, and my heart just overflows. And then I think about where that light came from--it came from me. I have it too. I am not inherently lacking in worth. Sure, I'm human; sure, I have faults. But my being is not defective, just as surely as his isn't. His reflection has helped me to better love and appreciate myself.

As for how I was as a child, yes, I was sensitive and challenging. That's because I am a deeply empathetic person who feels things, including the pain and fear my parents felt at that point in their lives. I threw tantrums because I was a toddler, feeling things intensely, as toddlers do. I talked back because I was smart and observant. I was scared because I felt the fear of others and sensed the dangers in the world. I was emotional because that's a fundamental part of my being. All of my qualities are assets if they are nurtured and understood. There was nothing wrong with me as a child--I was just a child.

There was nothing wrong with me. Just like there's nothing wrong with my son.

Of course we humans develop traits that aren't helpful. But I believe at our essence, our core, we are beautiful and good enough. Although I believe that with all my heart, I've often had trouble extending that belief to include one person--me.

As I look in the mirror that my son offers me, though, I see more clearly now. I see the truth about me. That's something I needed to see.

No comments:

Post a Comment