Yes!! You nailed it - a well-meaning compliment adds isolation to trauma parenting. I’m fucking flailing here, but thanks for the praise! Thanks for sharing, I felt your words in my bones.
I never knew I needed to hear the phrase "trauma parenting" but the influx of tears from seemingly nowhere tells me that I did. Thank you for that. And for articulating why the good mom compliment has never landed quite right for me. Wishing you and your family all the best.
Loved your last paragraph: "I am not just a good mom. I'm a bondage breaker, a bullshit detector, a trauma slayer, a truth teller, a redeemer, a protector and an empowerer." Way to f***ing go!
Good story, I’m with you on this one, even though I’m a dad. Would have done anything to protect my kid, my little peach, from what she encountered, but I’m damned proud of how she handled it.
So good! A corollary is hearing, "You're so strong! I would never have survived what you've been through!" when my husband died at age 57, leaving me a widow with two young teens.
I was strong because I had no other choice and my kids needed me. Don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same for your own children.
My son drove drunk when he was 19. I spent about five years recovering with him from that: constant court cases, paying for a good criminal lawyer by myself, since my husband left us at that time, visiting him in jail for five weeks (not sure I've ever cried so hard), more court time, two stays in rehab (pro tip: when you go to court ordered rehab, do not tell the psychologist you're not an alcoholic, you just drank too much on New Year's Eve, because he will tell the judge and then you have to go to another rehab and pretend to be an alcoholic), my friends telling me to give up on him, he's just a bad kid, suicide threats, having to go to outpatient rehab but not being allowed to drive, having to work but not allowed to drive, and all of this alone, alone alone. Shame.
Then there's my other child. Cutting, suicide attempts, failing college, more cutting, more mental health services, doing great in college but not allowed to matriculate, not speaking to her father so everything is my fault and my shoulders.
I'm an awesome mom too. But I don't think I'll ever recover from the trauma of those years, the poverty, the pain, the pressure.
Mmmm this resonates sooo much. It’s like the difference between a “good job” for kids and pointing the praise back to who they are instead - “you worked so hard on that” or “you should be proud of yourself”
This goes for disability parenting too - if I never heard another “you are so strong” or “I don’t think I could do it” …yes you fucking could. You’d get strong because that’s what your kid needed! I’m not some strong super-woman mom, I’m just doing what needs to be done.
OMG! As a trauma parent I felt all of this in my gut. The other “praise” I loathe is, “You’re so strong.” What they don’t understand is I don’t want to be strong. I’m exhausted and anxious and just want to curl up in my bed and stay there. I want to have the luxury of being weak and mediocre. I want to sleep through the night, not be angry, not be constantly on the verge of tears. I’m not strong…my child, who I love, is in crisis. What else can I do?
Yes!! You nailed it - a well-meaning compliment adds isolation to trauma parenting. I’m fucking flailing here, but thanks for the praise! Thanks for sharing, I felt your words in my bones.
I never knew I needed to hear the phrase "trauma parenting" but the influx of tears from seemingly nowhere tells me that I did. Thank you for that. And for articulating why the good mom compliment has never landed quite right for me. Wishing you and your family all the best.
Loved your last paragraph: "I am not just a good mom. I'm a bondage breaker, a bullshit detector, a trauma slayer, a truth teller, a redeemer, a protector and an empowerer." Way to f***ing go!
You tell it sister! You know where I am coming from!
Good story, I’m with you on this one, even though I’m a dad. Would have done anything to protect my kid, my little peach, from what she encountered, but I’m damned proud of how she handled it.
So good! A corollary is hearing, "You're so strong! I would never have survived what you've been through!" when my husband died at age 57, leaving me a widow with two young teens.
I was strong because I had no other choice and my kids needed me. Don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same for your own children.
My son drove drunk when he was 19. I spent about five years recovering with him from that: constant court cases, paying for a good criminal lawyer by myself, since my husband left us at that time, visiting him in jail for five weeks (not sure I've ever cried so hard), more court time, two stays in rehab (pro tip: when you go to court ordered rehab, do not tell the psychologist you're not an alcoholic, you just drank too much on New Year's Eve, because he will tell the judge and then you have to go to another rehab and pretend to be an alcoholic), my friends telling me to give up on him, he's just a bad kid, suicide threats, having to go to outpatient rehab but not being allowed to drive, having to work but not allowed to drive, and all of this alone, alone alone. Shame.
Then there's my other child. Cutting, suicide attempts, failing college, more cutting, more mental health services, doing great in college but not allowed to matriculate, not speaking to her father so everything is my fault and my shoulders.
I'm an awesome mom too. But I don't think I'll ever recover from the trauma of those years, the poverty, the pain, the pressure.
Mmmm this resonates sooo much. It’s like the difference between a “good job” for kids and pointing the praise back to who they are instead - “you worked so hard on that” or “you should be proud of yourself”
This goes for disability parenting too - if I never heard another “you are so strong” or “I don’t think I could do it” …yes you fucking could. You’d get strong because that’s what your kid needed! I’m not some strong super-woman mom, I’m just doing what needs to be done.
Love this, love you, love being in this boat with you even if sometimes it has sprung a leak, in a hurricane and we both forgot our life jackets…
OMG! As a trauma parent I felt all of this in my gut. The other “praise” I loathe is, “You’re so strong.” What they don’t understand is I don’t want to be strong. I’m exhausted and anxious and just want to curl up in my bed and stay there. I want to have the luxury of being weak and mediocre. I want to sleep through the night, not be angry, not be constantly on the verge of tears. I’m not strong…my child, who I love, is in crisis. What else can I do?