Having survived a Christmas with a teen and a three-year-old (and their parents), I was thinking about what actually hurts me now. It’s not really the loss of those experiences, if I’m honest. The three-year-old gave me much joy, as did the fifteen-year-old. They also made me glad that, right now, I do not have those ages in my house. They’re great fun, but they’re both a lot of work in completely different ways. And as I said last week, they’re not MY kids. And what I missed was “MY” kids, whoever they might have been. I don’t allow myself to miss them now because it is impossible to know what they would have been like. The possibilities are endless, as would be the pain if I allowed myself to imagine it, so I just don’t. It’s pointless. So I don’t.
Anyway, what I was starting to say (and got distracted), is that what causes me pain now are barbs that paint me as other, as less, as someone who “doesn’t understand,” as someone who is inferior because I haven’t had that experience, or as someone to be pitied. Directed personally at me, or comments made generally by people I don’t even know, the unintentional comments, the slights, the deliberate or unconscious othering and ignoring of my/our situations hurt. These are what set me apart, remind me that I did not have an experience that so many people had, and imply I am not a full equal member of society. Yet I’m not really allowed to talk about my experiences as a comparison, though I do when I can. If only the “as a mother” comments could be responded to by the “as a childless person” comments – both negative AND positive. If I felt I could talk about the personal growth I’ve been forced to undergo just as a parent is forced to “grow up” when they are responsible for a little one, I think I would feel more seen, more included in general society. If I could acknowledge both the loss and gains of being childless, just as a parent has to acknowledge that they lose when they also gain so much when they have children, my life might feel more “normal.” Of course, I’m sure many parents feel they can’t talk about the hardships of being a parent. I’ve always thought that was ridiculous, and it needs to change. We all need to empathise more with each other, to see each other's perspectives, and to recognise all our collective griefs and joys.
That’s my wish for 2024, which will have begun in New Zealand by the time I post this, and beyond.
Happy New Year, and I wish you all the very best for the coming year!
I love this post, so much. How important it is to be seen, to have experiences validated. I wish it wasn't acceptable in any case to qualify general/global statements with any "as a." It feels terrible to be othered. I'm glad you had a good holiday, and I totally agree that 3 and teen are both challenging for different reasons! But also delightful, for different reasons. And I agree with missing "my children" versus ones that already exist, bit not dwelling too much in what is impossible. Really great post.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much, Jess. Your comment means a lot.
DeleteWhat a beautiful wish! Here's to more empathy for all of us, regardless of our status and/or childless or "childwith" situation :-).
ReplyDeleteAs always, I agree with or can relate to all you say.
I particularly loved this part: "If only the 'as a mother' comments could be responded to by the 'as a childless person' comments – both negative AND positive. If I felt I could talk about the personal growth I’ve been forced to undergo just as a parent is forced to 'grow up' when they are responsible for a little one." This is how I felt for years. Thanks for hitting the nail on the head, Mali!
Much love from rainy Switzerland,
Elaine
I join you in that wish. May we all see and hear each other more clearly in 2024, suspending judgment and embracing empathy.
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