|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on November 25, 2020 at 10:15 PM|
I woke up this morning with this one realization:
Everything I have ever wanted in life was a child's understanding of how to get a child's developmental needs met.
I was an unloved child, and I needed parents and family and friends to love me.
I couldn't get that. All I could get was a self-centered Poor-Baby-Me of a mother, a family overfocused on achievement, and kids at school screaming at me and throwing gum in my hair.
How does a six-year-old determine how to get people to stop doing those things, and love her?
Well, for one thing, parents and family are focused on Achievement, so I'd better pick that Achieving Career. Which I did.
Except it was a lot harder and not as fun as I'd thought. I'd entered professional school with no social antennae and not a lot of self-confidence, and past the level of high school teachers don't support you emotionally anymore. They just look at you with scorn when you don't have enough self-confidence and you don't know how to act.
Even when they know what the problem is, they don't help you. You're not their problem.
So, I'm failing, but I still need to achieve success In Order For Important People To Love Me. Hence, Plan Number Two: The Writer Fantasy.
I know! I'll write a bestseller and then they'll have to love me! They will be so proud.
A six-year-old does not stop to think that parents and family being proud of her and parents and family loving her are not the same thing.
(Really, you'd have to be a sophisticated kid to figure that out.)
Let's not forget, If I just figure out how to help Mommy feel better, then she will take care of me and give me what I need.
Well, sad to say, some people are never, ever, ever, ever going to get better, and there's simply nothing anyone can do.
A six-year-old can't accept that about her mother. A six-year-old can't accept that life is really that cold, cruel, and horrible. A six-year-old hears the Disney "When You Wish Upon a Star" song and really believes it ... that someday they will grow up and be able to make things work out better.
Because they wished hard enough. Or some such nonsense.
It would appear that Chi is one of those people who is never, ever, ever, ever going to get better.
I'll never know, of course. It was most kind of him to come back three years ago, explain himself, and essentially say goodbye. I didn't realize it at the time, but that was what had happened. I didn't realize that for months afterward.
It's a shame, of course, because he has a good strong thread of transits, from about 2024 on, that reflect a good job healing and a much healthier personality. He had them before, too, from 2014 to around 2017. Like Rory and her marriage counseling transits, he didn't make use of those. Didn't make it that time around.
Of course, miracles can happen. There's lots of life left. Maybe they went back to marriage counseling and those healing transits will happen with Rory and not me. (Except ... I finally peeked. Her transits for the same years reflect a most dismal absence of same. Interesting.)
But that's not likely to happen. There's wayyy too much social pressure on the marriage for it to stay the same, and zero pressure on the two people within it to be brave, to do the extremely difficult work of facing themselves, their childhoods, and each other.
They're in their early and middle sixties. People this age get scared and set in their ways. Cognitive and physical decline will set in. If not now, then very soon, they will be too old to change.
Oh, well. Boo-b-b-boo-boo-hoo. We'll just have to sit here and be miserable now. It's all the other person's fault.
At least the children and the in-laws are happy.
I warned Chi about this. (And a fat lot of good it did, too.)
It's not my problem any more. My problem is ending this habit of planning my life like a six-year-old. It's never done any good, and none of that stuff ever comes true, even when it looks like it should.
Instead of me and my husband being writers together, we got elder care and brain tumors and an early grave. Instead of going on to find success myself, I have a novel on Wattpad with only eight hits on it. All of them are mine.
Best Practices: To avoid disappointment, stop building huge castles in Spain and needing them to come true so you can be happy. Six-year-old thinking is best left behind in one's first decade.
Hanging onto it into one's fifth decade could well be cause for ceremonial disembowelment.
Going forward, if it's a six-year-old's answer for how to get a six-year-old's emotional needs met, it probably should not be used in setting an expected course for one's life.
Life really does come up roses for some people. But, Selena Quintanilla Perez, I am not.
And, come to think of it, she got shot to death.
Even the people such big dreams come true for pay a bigger price than we know. But, it's time to admit, I'm not the people.
And, really. I think I've already paid enough.
I need to just learn how to be happy going to my job, cleaning the house, and sitting on the couch enjoying the view outside and piddling around on the computer. That's the life I have, and that's the way it will be.
A friend posted on Facebook how her six-year-old is anxious to get a job. He thinks it will be some awesome experience. Others wrote in to commiserate how the kid is likely to be let down once the time gets here.
Someone posted that as a kid, they dreamed of slaying dragons; but no one told them life is just about washing the dishes.
Reasons not to let a six-year-old run your life.