I Struggled, I Sacrificed, I Survived
So why do I still feel like a failure?
As parents, and as individuals, we do what we can, when we can, to make our lives as comfortable and drama-free as possible. Sometimes, the drama comes to us anyway. One of the ways we find the strength to move forward is because of the memories of happier times that we hang onto and smile about, with the hope we’ll get back to those happy times sooner or later. But when those memories slip away or aren’t shared, it can leave a yawning chasm of self-doubt and disappointment.
For me, it wasn’t the first blow to my self-esteem and sense of accomplishment that started the failure spiral, but some incidents that were able to take root in my subconscious.
It occurred as my three grown children began having children of their own, and I found myself nostalgically comparing one child’s looks, behaviors, and attitude to how their parent had been, growing up.
“Remember that?” I would say.
I expected to share the memory with a laugh. Instead, I faced a blank look and a negative nod of the head. One time would not have been significant, but as it happened over and over, I began wondering — was I misremembering? Confabulating? It was only after verifying with family friends that some of the things I was talking about actually DID happen that I began to see exactly what time has done to my children’s childhood memories, and what that meant to my own feelings.
There is a dark shadow that runs across our family timeline — the demarcation between Before the Divorce and After the Divorce. In my mind, the Before part includes the 15 years of dedicating myself to family, including my children’s activities and their development. I have photo album after photo album documenting things we five did together, marking significant occasions and everyday life.
These are the snapshots I kept in my mind when things began to fall apart.
The After part was harsh. Four people had to survive on 50 percent of what five people had once lived on. We moved from the only house the kids had known to a townhouse, but had to move from that when I couldn’t keep up the payments, the homeowner’s association dues, and the utilities. I had to tell my kids they would no longer be participating in dance and gymnastics and my son was forced to wear sneakers so worn out, the soles were flapping.
The next house was a tiny “handyman’s special,” but it was ours. It soon became a money pit of unending repairs. Over the years I refinanced when housing was high-priced and redid the bathroom and the kitchen. Not for luxury — both rooms were threatening to collapse into the crawl space.
Teenage years brought proms, cars and car insurance, then my custodial parent’s portion of college expenses, eventual emancipation from child support, and then, just me, the dog, my meager earnings, and my over-mortgaged house.
My kids all worked full time and went to college full time, and one of them scholarshipped her way through her entire undergrad education. I breathed a sigh of relief that, after all the drama, I had 3 college-educated children out in the world supporting themselves. I considered it a team effort, they had worked and sacrificed just as much as me. All that time I believed that the memories of happier times were holding us together.
Today, when I see that all they seem to remember are the “After” days, I am not so sure.
Today, I feel like an important part of me has disappeared with their memories.
Today I am feeling that I did a lot of things wrong.
Today I am feeling that I didn’t help them as much as I thought.
Today I am feeling that I have also failed myself.
My children’s memories of me seem to only be of this financial struggling woman who asked them to grow up pretty fast; they’ve long forgotten the Mom of the photo albums. I always thought I would have time to make up for that.
I fantasized about that “someday” in the future where I’d be financially secure, able to travel and make photo album-worthy memories with my children and grandchildren.
As my mailbox fills up with solicitations for Medicare supplements (am I THAT old already?) I realize that I’ve failed to prepare for this part of life, that I have been so busy treading water that I missed seeing how far from the shore I actually am. And, to extend the near-drowning metaphor, I don’t think the Coast Guard is looking for me.
Still, I have those happy memories, and if I work on it, I can rely on them for the resilience I need to get over this feeling of failure hump. And maybe, I can pull out those photo albums and start exploring.
But first, I guess I better start swimming.
