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April, 2014

  • Maybe Feelings Are Absurd

    We care a lot about each other’s feelings.  Most conversations begin with an inquiry about the other person’s emotional disposition.  “How do you do?” “How are you today?” “Are you well?”

    We are so committed to knowing the moods of others that we call people sociopaths who don’t give a care.  “Oh that person must be insane to not be concerned about my state of being!”  But you know what I am beginning to think?  Maybe giving a shit about how people feel is way more crazy than not.

    Essentially feelings are a chemical cocktail of hormones and neurotransmitters that can only be felt by the person feeling.  These personal reactions we have to the world should theoretically only impact the person who is feeling the feelings – because they are contained inside our own minds.  It is not like emotions manifest as a noxious gas that is distributed through our nostrils.

    Yet even though we technically should be able to keep our feelings to ourselves, we instead project them out into the world for other people to feel as well.  “Ha world… I am in a bad mood, and I am going to act like it too.  So deal with it!”

    Emotions are inherently irrational because they are a subjective experience.  Even though we know everyone else has them, we can never truly compare because we only experience them in our own heads and bodies.  The only commonality is how we choose to express them.  “Ahhhh yes, Chip must be angry because he is foaming at the mouth when he yells.  I too have done that when furious.”

    We project our understanding of our own emotions onto others, and we give value to this process because it legitimizes our own feelings.  I take your feelings seriously to justify why I take my own feelings seriously.  But what if feelings themselves are ridiculous?

    Okay fine… you got me.  I am obviously the parent of a toddler who has to deal with a variety of feelings every day and maybe, just maybe, that is skewing my perspective.  But hear me out.

    When The Munch was a baby I responded to everyone one of her needs – but that is because they were actual needs.  I am hungry.  I am thirsty.  I am hot.  I am tired.  I am sick of you.  Her cries were actual cries for help!

    But now, 98% of the shit The Munch cries about, or gets angry at, is literally ludicrous.  I want to sit in my travel car seat, not that other car seat.  I want 5 cookies not 4.  I want to play with my blocks, but I don’t want my blocks to play with me.

    When I take a step back and look at most of the things that adults get all riled up about, myself included, it is most really petty shit.  Yeah maybe every once in a while something profound and meaningful will happen, or we will experience a real crisis.  But most of the time we are just bitching about the little things.


    April 30, 2014 • 3 years old, Behavior, Family Drama, Musings, Parenting, Relationships • Views: 7127

  • Aren’t We All Codependent Narcissists?

    Have you ever had one of those moments where late at night you find yourself cruising through the Internet self-diagnosing for mental disorders?  Yeah, I have never done that either.  That would be crazy!

    Depending on the day, I display a variety of different psychological syndromes.  I think that is why they started advertising psychiatric drugs late at night on TV.  It is easy to convince an insomniac that they are fucked up.

    Why yes commercial, I do have trouble sleeping – thank you for rubbing it in how I am indeed awake at 1 am.  I actually do feel anxious now, because I am reminded how I have to wake up tomorrow.  As a matter of fact I am depressed because I am going to be sleepy tomorrow and I am too anxious to go to sleep.  You are right about me savvy drug advertising – sign me up for medication pronto!

    It is easy to throw around medical terminology because we are inundated with these conditions on a daily basis. Yet why this is confusing is because these ailments are mostly average human conditions exaggerated.  We all exhibit many of the traits listed as psychological sicknesses, but in a more muted or subtle way.  I know there is a spectrum, and people have varying degrees of exhibiting behavior, but aren’t we all kind of co-dependent anxious depressed narcissists?

    If I were to look at my relationship with my child alone, I would say that all of those characteristics are exhibited within our daily dynamic.  Am I co-dependent with The Munch if I make the decision to spend my afternoon at the playground even though think it is boring as fuck but I know she likes it?  Am I anxious because when I watch her climb on things awkwardly I wonder if she is going to fall?  Am I depressed because when I push her on the swing for 38 minutes I not only get extremely jaded, but also spend that time questioning existence and if my life has any meaning?  Am I a narcissist because I think my own twisted thoughts are more interesting than having to explain to some kid why I won’t give them the shovel I am playing with in the sandbox?   (Because I need it for my selfie! Duh!)


    April 29, 2014 • 3 years old, Behavior, Musings, Parenting, Relationships • Views: 1997

  • Sex and Death On a Sunday Afternoon

    I am pretty sure I just became public enemy #1 in The Munch’s pre-school.  The things she may tell her little friends come Monday morning are guaranteed to get me crucified.  It all started on a Sunday afternoon. The day seemed peaceful until The Munch started asking me questions about life and death.

    Munch: Mamma, are you going to die?

    Toni: Yes I am….

    Munch: BUT NO!! I don’t want you to die!

    Toni: I have to die Munch.  It is a part of life.

    Munch: But I will be so sad!!! I DON’T WANT YOU TO GO AWAY EVER!

    Toni: Well, I probably won’t die until I am old.

    Munch: Are you old now?

    Toni: I am young at heart.

    Munch: When will you be old?

    Toni: When you are all grown up.

    Munch: Then you will be old and die?

    Toni: Yeah…

    Munch: NO! I want you to stay with me forever!

    Toni: Well, my heart will stay with you forever.

    About an hour later…

    Munch: Do all boys have a penis?

    Toni: Yes Munch, all boys have penises.

    Munch: Not every boy right? Just some boys?

    Toni: Nope. All boys have penises.

    Munch: But girls don’t have penises?

    Toni: No, girls have vaginas.

    Munch: But what are vaginas for?

    Toni:  Vaginas are for making babies.  That is where the baby comes out of when it is born.

    Munch: It does? I thought I came out of your back!

    Toni:  You thought you came out of my back?

    Munch: I sure did!  So does that mean little teeny tiny babies have to crawl into vaginas so they can grow in the mommy’s tummy and then come out the vagina and be born?

    Toni: Kinda.

    Munch: But I didn’t crawl into your vagina.  I don’t remember that at all.

    Toni:  Well you sort of did.

    Munch: Wait, so how did I get in your tummy?

    Toni:  Ummm… so daddies have little tadpoles that live inside their penis.  They are really small.  And when the tadpoles swim inside the mommy, a baby gets made.

    Munch: But how do the tadpoles get inside the mommy?

    Munch: Uhhhhh, the daddies put their penis in the mommy’s vagina, and the tadpoles swim out…

    Munch: That is so funny!!!!!!

    Toni: I know!

    Munch: So is that how my cousin Calvin was made? Did his daddy put his penis in his mommy’s vagina so the tadpoles could swim up inside his mommy’s tummy?

    Toni: That sure did happen!

    Munch: Did Elliot’s mommy and daddy to that too?

    Toni:  Yes.

    Munch: And Ryhs?

    Toni: Everyone who was ever born, that is what happened.

    Munch: But how do the tadpoles make the baby inside the mommy?

    Toni:  The tadpoles are actually called sperm.

    Munch: SPERM!?

    Toni:  Yes.

    Munch: I never heard that word before.  That word is so funny!!!

    Toni:  It is hilarious actually.

    Munch: So what does the sperm do?

    Toni:  Inside the mommy, she has a special baby egg which lives inside her baby sack.  So the sperm has to swim inside the baby sack, and then it meets the egg.  The egg and the sperm join together to form a little teeny tiny tiny tiny baby.

    Munch: A baby that is this big?

    Toni:  Exactly.  And that teeny tiny baby lives in the mommy’s baby sack until it is ready to be born.

    Munch: And then the baby is born and eats from the mommy’s nanas.

    Toni:  Yup! That is pretty much it.

    Munch: That is so silly mom.

    Toni:  It sure is.

    Yeah I could have lied to her about this stuff.  It is not like I have a huge moral problem with lying.  I lie to Munch all the time about toy stores being closed, or that the chocolate bar I don’t feel like sharing is made of dog poop.  There are all sorts of reasons that we lie to each other that feel legitimate in the moment.  Most often people lie because they don’t want to deal with the other person’s reaction to the truth.  It is not that we want to conceal things, as much as we don’t want to deal with how people respond.

    I think that is exactly why I decided to be honest. I felt like Munch wouldn’t be asking if she couldn’t handle it – so I wasn’t afraid of being upfront. Dealing with mortality is a huge part of existence, and the more you are aware of it, the more you honor the life we are given.  Of course one can feel paralyzed by the thought of death, but we all have those moments.  The important lesson is to appreciate life even though it may all seem futile because of our inevitable and ultimate demise.  Even though I know The Munch doesn’t want to conceptualize me dying, I also felt it was meaningful to face the reality of it.

    There is a certain irony that the penis conversation came up this same day -pun intended! Pontificating on the penis turned into an explanation of sex and baby making because of the questions Munch was asking.  Maybe I could have avoided it, but hey, if we are going to look into the barrel of death, we might as well stare into the tunnel of life.

    (Pretty sure that if Munch talks about all this at school to her little friends there is going to be a public lynching… Guess what Timmy, not only is your mom gonna die, but your dad put his penis in her vagina so his sperm could become one with her egg… )



  • The “Dick Sucking Queen” Sounds Sweet

    I guess it is a thing for sorority girls to send outlandish emails to each other, and then “leak” them to the Internet.  I am not sure if this most recent “senior speech” by the “Dick Sucking Queen” was “leaked” as much as it was violently penetrated into the cyber webs.  Yet  as a feminist who doesn’t want to “slut shame” – when reading this young lady’s manifesto, I have committed to having an open mind and assuming she is instilling valuable morals onto her younger sisters.

    It begins with this lovely paragraph warning her fellow comrades of the tyranny of authority, and also of the importance of transparency.

    “Alright, so me being a senior, not even knowing how the fuck I made it this far in life without killing myself because I am a dumb fuck, I was told by our officers who think they rule the fucking world to leave a senior will….so I’m going to be so blunt and truthful with you sloots you will learn everything you need to know about college right here in this letter…”

    See her noble intentions there.  She wants to make sure these incoming freshman girls are spiritually and psychically prepared for their future.

    This delightful young damsel then goes on to encourage a liberated approach to one’s sexuality.  She directly addresses the patriarchy imposed on women, and the preconceived notions of the female libido.  The positivity and vocalization of her enjoyment of sex is commendable as she sweetly articulates the gratification of giving one’s partner pleasure – yet only for a reasonable duration of time.  And of course she is also grateful for the advancements of modern technology to share pertinent information about one’s genitalia.

    1.    Have sex.
 Have sex with as many boys as you can. Well, not exactly, check out their penis first. Dick pics are God’s gift to women. Make sure you inspect the goods before you let it penetrate you vagina. Having sex is awesome. The best thing you can do for your sex life is to learn to love sucking dick. It is one of my favorite pastimes. I could suck dick for like 7 minutes, anything after that is too long. You should have definitely made your man bust his load all in your mouth in 7 minutes. If you can’t achieve that, sorry sweetheart but you have better chances at becoming a lesbo than getting dick.

    Next she then crowns herself as a victorious administer of bliss – “The Dick Sucking Queen.”  What self-confidence!  The DSQ then cheers her fellow allies to ingest all their lover has to offer in celebration of their collective achievement of orgasm.  Ahhhh… what charming imagery she conjures with detailed and descriptive language articulating how the flavor of a man’s love stimulates the palate.  Yum!

    2.    Swallow that load 
If you are one of those “classy” ladies who don’t swallow. Go crawl into a hole with Ellen DeGeneres and learn to eat pussy, because that is what you are. Spitting is for quitters, you swallow that sweet ‘n’ salty mix like the real woman you are. Your man for the night will forever tell his bro’s about you dick sucking abilities. Oh, if you haven’t noticed by now, I love sucking dick. I crowned myself the dick sucking queen and no one is ever taking that title from me, so back the fuck off.

    The DSQ is not one to conform to social convention.  She embraces the hypocrisy of the human condition with a Socratic approach to morality.  Her pontifications that we do not willingly harm others for that would only harm ourselves, which we would never do willingly, has vast philosophical implications.  Is to err knowingly more honorable than to do so unconsciously? This 2,500-year-old Platonic question is finally solved by this brilliant mind.

    The darling “Dick Sucking Queen”also explains how intimacy is much deeper than superficial conversation.  It is about connecting on the astral plane, and merging souls in the quantum universe.  Despite the fact that the undertones of her below suggestion might seem almost “rapey” – her “sorta” knowing what happened the night before means she has a Buddhist perspective on existence.  Live in the moment!  Don’t dwell on the past when the present is right in front of you, discarded condoms and all.

    3.     Blackout or Back the Fuck Out
 If you are getting ready to hit the square or frats with your sisters you better have already been pounding some liquor by 7pm. No one ever enjoys a sober sally, she judges the fuck out of you and even though I judge everyone who is within 4 feet of me, no one can judge me. I live my life by a double standard (see number 4). It is a really great feeling to wake up hopefully in your bed, and look to your side with a confused look asking yourself “did I have sex with him?”. It has happened to me countless times, but luckily I always find my used condoms on the floor of my room so I sorta know when I have had sex. I bring home classy dudes. On several occasions, I have brought home someone from the bar and tried to introduce him to my roommates/friends and forgotten his name. Always have the upper hand, you don’t need to know his name to hop on his tic tac.

    The DSQ wraps up her declaration with a feminist affirmation or self-worth!  Yes we are empresses of the world my sweet angel of truth.  Censoring one’s self because of the judgments of others is an oppressive paradigm we goddesses do not have to ascribe to.  Yet at the same time, our Queen encourages a forgiving attitude towards one’s own actions, which is the foundation of her well of self-assurance.  She ends this enchanting speech-act reminding the co-eds of her alma mater to seize all opportunities that come their way, and bask in the riches that may befall upon them.  Oh, and also to always wrap up any penis you might squat on, because seriously no one wants and STD.

    4.    Live your life by a double standard
You are queen of the fucking world. You can do no wrong. You’re the only one who can fuck random’s every weekend and not be judged. You’re the shit and no one can tell you any different. You can yell at your slut roommate and tell her that her bedroom is a revolving door even though you hooked up with two different guys in two days, it could have been three but who is counting anymore? Excuses are your new best friend, not that fake fucking Yurman your sleazy ex got you because he was a two pump chump. You better start having excuses memorized like the 6-carat princess cut engagement ring your rich as fuck future boyfriend better get you in a few years you have memorized. I live my life by the absolute biggest double standard and it has gotten me so far, you young sloots better start doing the same. We need someone good to be the next A of  (sorority redact)  So, you fucking lucky little bitches have a few more years to run out mommys credit card, while crying to daddy that you have no money in your account so he slips you some cash for booze and weed. Spend that cash you don’t have on illegal drugs unless you’re one of the blessed who is already so fucked up you stumbled upon prescription drugs. If that’s the case, hit me up ;). Remember, wrap it before you tap it, no one wants the herps, and if you can, always be slightly drunk. Life will be so much better.

    I will be forever grateful for the insight of the “Dick Sucking Queen.”  The voice of a generation!  All hail to her glory.     


    April 25, 2014 • Current Events, Relationships • Views: 19490

  • These Millennial “Generation Z” Kids Are Kind of Annoying

    I live in kind of a hippy area.  People here eat quinoa for desert, compost their compost, and wear fleece hats un-ironically.  The ideologies of these new age, nature-loving, peace-promoting people extend past their interest in organic farming, canning, and making soap… and of course permeates into their parenting and the type of children they are raising.

    I know what you are thinking.  “Toni, I see you dry-humping that tree… how are you any different than what you are describing you yogi hypocrite?”  And you would be right.  Trees are amazing lovers, and I am totally like the people I judge.  Which is exactly what I am afraid of.

    Here is my inner conflict.  I look around me and think “wow, the world is fucked the fuck up.”  The paradigms of previous generations are highly flawed, especially when it came to raising children.  I can’t pin point exactly the strategies that were most problematic, but I can say the world is currently run by a shit ton of insecure greedy dick wads.

    So I believe that we need to socialize our kids differently from the standard model of conditioning, and I think many of us are trying different methodologies than how we were raised.  Parents today are concerned with showing compassion, empathy, and allowing space for their children to feel.  There is an intentionality to practice a more democratic regime in our households. We are more aware of self-esteem and wanting to instill feelings of confidence.  There is often an internal pressure to spend quality time and engage with our children fully to make sure they feel valued and special.  All of which I do!  However… a lot of the 10-year old kids I have been meeting lately who have parents like this (me) are annoying as FUCK!

    Maybe I was irritating when I was 10… in fact I am sure I was.  However, I did have respect for my elders, and did not speak unless I was spoken to.  I listened to grow ups, and even if I didn’t always agree, I kept my views to myself.  Yet the kids I am around at my dance studio have a very different way of relating to the world – with names like Juniper-Bud, Kindred-Spirit, and 2nd Chakra.  They feel like they are equals to adults, and their opinions are just as valued and should be expressed freely.  They have so much self worth that they don’t hesitate to communicate their desires, discontents, and disagreements with the teacher who is just trying to teach them how to pirouette. It is not that they are unruly; it is more that they have no filter or capacity to pay attention and listen because they are too busy participating and inflicting their ideas.

    Part of me thinks maybe this is a good thing?  There is a deep wisdom that children possess, and they are our gurus when our hearts are open to their lessons.  Even though the behavior I witness may be irritating to me, this generation is probably more empowered than those of the past.  Adults are faulty creatures, and are not the supreme authority of truth, so why should the be treated as if they are?  Perhaps I am the problem by clinging on to a defective prototype of the past.  Maybe this is the shift in consciousness that we have been waiting for?

    But…. There is this other part of me that kind of wants to choke these kids, and prays The Munch does not turn out like them.


    April 24, 2014 • 3 years old, Behavior, Disciplining, Musings, Parenting • Views: 6888

  • 3 Ways To Avoid Drama

    Hell is other people – well at least according to Jean-Paul Sartre.  In his play “No Exit” he describes hell as being stuck in a room with 2 other people who you don’t really like.  Three people trapped together for all eternity with nothing but each other as company.  This gives a whole new twist to the show “Three’s Company.”

    We often define ourselves through The Other, and how we judge each other ultimately defines how we judge ourselves.  Yet when we look into the mirror of The Other, the reflection will always be distorted and disturbing.  We are damned by our own essence, and when the fragrance co-mingles with the scent of ass from those around us, it is easy to forget your own stink.

    Hell is being around people who only care about themselves while you only care about yourself.

    Not that every relationship we are in is hellish, but the potential is always lingering while The Cranberries wonder if we had to let it.  Selfish behavior feeds the demonic beast of conflict, who then regurgitates pain into a bloody mess of strife onto our shoes.  That spectacle then becomes and all encompassing force – penetrating and probing.

    People often become addicted to the drama of The Other because it is way easier to worry about how people have wronged you than it is to peer inside your own being and stare into the void of your core.  So we allow others, and the problems we have with them, to distract us from ever truly dealing with the parts of ourselves that we don’t like.

    So here are my 5 tips of avoiding drama in life and enjoying the mental anguish that is human relationships.

    1)   Only surround yourself with people you actually trust:  But not trust in the cliché way where you expect them never to tell a white lie.  Friends lie to each other to protect feelings or avoid some bullshit reaction.  It happens.  What I mean is the kind of trust where you KNOW the person actually cares about your best interests, and that no matter what you can work shit out together because you believe in your ability to communicate.

    2)   Always assume the best of people: If you trust someone, you have to accept that you may not always know why the fuck they are doing something, but you still need to have confidence that their reasoning is reasonable.  When you operate with that understanding, you take the burden of trying to control another person off your shoulders, and take the leap of faith that the person you love is worth receiving your love.  If someone betrays you so what? It may hurt, but it is also not your problem.  It is their problem for being a dick.  It sucks way worse to wrong someone than it does to be wronged.  So like our TOTALLY legitimate legal system, all people are innocent until proven guilty.

    3)   Practice empathy:  People suck.  They are imperfect.  They will let you down.  This is inevitable.  This doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have expectations of each other, but it does mean we have to have genuine compassion.  Most of the time when someone you love is being an asshole, you can figure out what is going on with them if you take the time to get in their head.  You don’t have to bring up every petty problem when you make the effort to work it out in your own mind.  The more you can forgive people by taking a moment to genuinely understand their perspective in your own process of processing, the less time you will spend picking each other apart in person.  Unless you are chimpanzee and into that sort of thing.


    April 23, 2014 • Musings, Relationships • Views: 1224

  • Surround Me With X Chromosomes!

    Even though I may not be the most feminine girl you have ever met, I am fucking into that shit hard core – because I am a lady.

    I like surrounding myself with X chromosome energy.  The majority of my friends are women… all my animals are females… if I am ill I prefer to see women healers… and when a human occupied my womb, I really wanted it to be a girl.

    Not that I am a man-hater, or a man-eater for that matter – because they are too many calories.  I think men are swell!!  They are a nifty bunch.  I just tend to gravitate my interests towards things that revolve around menses and shedding endometrium.

    Maybe the reason why I am obsessed with all things feminine is because I have a more masculine vibe, and I am trying to balance it out.  Or perhaps grandmother moon speaks through my labia?  Who knows?  My point is that if someone is standing on a soapbox talking about bitches, it is probably me…. listening to them because I don’t really use soap.

    I guess I have inadvertently passed this mentality down to The Munch.  Not only is she into all things girly, she is also slightly bitchy towards men.  She can just cop more of an attitude with them.  Munch is hyper aware of gender, and would always rather have girls do things for her than those of the male persuasion.

    My brother Laszlo was commenting on this phenomenon when the three of us were playing together outside.

    Munch: Uncle Laszlo, no don’t push me on the hammock.  Only Mamma can push because she is a girl!

    Laszlo: Man Toni… you really have indoctrinated all your pro-woman ideology onto this one.

    Toni: You know I never did that on purpose, but I guess the energy was just too powerful in the quantum universe not to be absorbed through osmosis.

    (Or maybe it is just a phase… )


    April 22, 2014 • 3 years old, Behavior, Family Drama, Musings, Parenting, Talking and Not Talking • Views: 1653

  • The Lingering Scent of Love

    When you ask someone to do you a favor, there is certain etiquette that you must show them.  Since they are doing something for you, it is important to be gracious, appreciative, and polite.  It is a time to tolerate their idiosyncrasies, for it is not appropriate to bring up petty problems – even when your nasal cavity is being violently violated.

    Over the weekend, I was having a major OCD moment and frantically needed to clean my house.  You know that feeling when your inner life is so frenzied that you feel a compulsion to organize your surroundings in a desperate attempt to quiet the insanity of your mind?  Yeah me neither.

    So I texted my brother Laszlo, and asked if he could hang outside with The Munch so I could make order of the chaos.  Laszlo courteously complied, and came over to assist.  After some time in the fresh air, the two of them came in for dinner.  Laszlo was talking to me in the kitchen, and I started to get distracted by an incredibly strong scent.

    At first I thought I had left out a fine cheese – one that was so expensive that the more pungent the odor, the more money it cost.  I then remembered that no, I don’t even eat cheese, so that couldn’t be it.  It also occurred to me that perhaps something had died, and the carcass was decaying between the walls. Or even that a poltergeist had farted.

    The more my brother and I conversed, the more the aroma overpowered the room.  It was like my nose was being raped.

    Yet there was something strangely familiar about the fragrance.  I knew I had made its acquaintance before.  As it wafted further into my adenoidal passage I looked down and noticed the culprit.

    As a well-mannered houseguest, my brother had taken off his shoes.  Of course he had – Laszlo is a civilized being who respects the home of another.  The kind soul that he is, my brother did not want to track dirt into his sister’s abode.  Yet what Laszlo must have forgotten about was the fact that his feet smelled like hate.

    It reminded me of the time that Laszlo fell in the Charles River when he was on the sailing team in high school, and waited 2-weeks to shower after being bathed in the sewage.  Why he made this choice we will never know.  Maybe it was an anthropological experiment? So I had smelled the dank moisture of his moldy leg-ends before, but this was something special.

    Here was my dilemma.  My brother had just helped me out! He wasn’t doing anything wrong.  I too push the boundaries of hygiene.  Who am I to say what a body should smell like?  Yet at the same time, I was starting to taste the scent.

    Toni: Laszlo…. Ummmm….. I don’t know if I can take it…

    I looked down at his feet.  Laszlo looked down too.

    Laszlo: It is not my fault.  I have to traverse through a marsh to get here! My feet are constantly wet.  Feel them!

    Toni: No really.  It is okay.  You can put your shoes back on though.

    Laszlo: You know what I really need?

    Toni: Some new socks? Do you want me to get some for you?

    Laszlo: No. I need Laszlo slippers. That way I can just put my slippers on when I get here.

    Toni: Done.

    Although I am going to get my brother slippers because I love him… according to Munch, the kitchen still smells like Uncle Laszlo


    April 21, 2014 • Family Drama, Talking and Not Talking • Views: 1816

  • We Are All Just Big Babies Raising Babies

    When I think about my deepest darkest secrets, the worst parts of myself, the pieces of me that are murky and muddy, my overall conclusion is – “I am pretty sure it is my mom and dad’s fault that I am like that.”

    Being a parent is so fucking hard because no matter how hard you try you are going to fuck your kid up.

    I know… those sentiments are beautiful, and I should probably redirect my career towards poetry.

    I am well aware that my parents tried really hard to raise me well.  They were thoughtful, loving, caring, and even though they let me eat GMO’s – they did their best.  Yet still, when I search into the bowels of my being, there is this reality that despite their efforts, their parenting is still the root of a lot of my issues.  As children we internalize things differently than how adults may intend for us to.

    For example, when growing up my Dad’s mom was very religious and closed minded about some issues.  My parents were more liberal, but at the same time perceptive of the fact that some of their beliefs would upset my grandmother.  Yet they didn’t want to conform their parenting just to avoid my grandmother’s judgments. My mom also grew in a culture that she didn’t necessarily want to raise her kids in, and there were ways in which her childrearing techniques were in direct rebellion to what she had experienced.  Both my mom and dad knew they were raising their kids differently from how they were raised, yet were also hypersensitive to how their kids would be perceived by their parents.

    My brother and I spent a fair amount of time with our grandparents.  My dad’s mom would often pick us up from school and we would spend weekends with her, as well as every summer we would visit my maternal grandparents for a few weeks.  So the solution my parents came up with was to be really honest with me and my brother about their parents, and how they figured it would be best for us to act when around them.  They had suggestions about how to behave, or off limits topics so as not to upset the cranky older generation.

    The intention behind this thinking is totally reasonable.  They wanted our time with our grandparents to be pleasant, and if there were things we could avoid revealing to make that time more agreeable, then why not do that?  Yet for me personally, the way I understood this strategy was that in order to make sure people loved me, I had to become who I thought they wanted me to be.  I began to feel that love was conditional, and that people only loved you when you acted in a way that made them comfortable.

    This thinking has carried with me for years, and has for sure created some twisted dynamics in my life.  Rather than believing people will love me for my authentic self, I anticipate the person they want me to be, and become that.

    This is just one of many many many many things about who I am that is problematic – but most of my liabilities root back to my childhood in some way or another. I think we all can trace our faults back to primal wounds we experienced as kids.  When I go in deep with my friends about their intimate selves… wait that didn’t sound right… let me try again.  When my girlfriends and I get into the juicy stuff… uhhhh that sounds gross too.  What I am trying to say is that when I talk to my friends about why they suck, they usually believe that it is because of their mom and dad.

    Even though we are grown ass adults, we are still struggling with events that happened when we were 6.  Maybe this because that was when our brains and hearts were forming, the inevitable pain and confusion of existence was imprinted into the tissue?  Or maybe we are all just big babies raising babies?

    Sigh… sorry Munch! Get ready to have countless issues because of me!  My bad!


    April 18, 2014 • 3 years old, Behavior, Family Drama, Musings, Parenting • Views: 2515