I Had To Accept My Daughter in Order to Accept Myself.
Seeing myself in my daughter scared me.
I remember the feeling very well. My kids had just spent the weekend at their grandparents’ house. As I was picking them up, my well-meaning parent joked about how my daughter was just like me. “She just won’t shut up. Now you know what it was like when you were a kid.” Those words cut deep.
Growing up, I was a child who talked a lot, had a hard time concentrating, and struggled with personal boundaries. Never mind the diagnosis of ADHD in the first grade. The comments were relentless, perhaps in an effort to change my behavior. Those comments became ingrained into who I believed myself to be. I internalized them, and they became apart of my identity.
I was bluntly told that I talked too much and that I didn’t have self-control. Because these things were something I was and not something I did, I never tried to change my behavior. As time went on, and the not-so-nice comments continued, I began to feel shame about who I was. As the shame continued to grow, I began retreating into myself.
I struggle with relationships, to begin with. I am an introvert and shy away from social situations. As a young child, even before the shame crept in, I would prefer to be alone more than being with my peers. When I was around people I was comfortable with, I instead came out of my shell and would share the thoughts that swarmed around in my little head. I would often talk relentlessly about my daydreams and the world around me. My stories were frequently meet with exasperation. As I grew and became more self-aware, my quirks became something I desperately tried to hide. I often didn’t let peers get close to me because I was afraid they wouldn’t like the person I once opened up. I often felt alone, and my mental health began to deteriorate. I developed poor coping strategies and spent most of my time alone, in my room, daydreaming.
I believe if my parents were to read this, they would be surprised. I think they took my retreating into myself as a sign that I had outgrown a phase, perhaps growing into a new one. I had always been an awkward and shy kid, so they must have thought my periods of time alone were just a part of who I was. The truth was, I was suffering. I constantly felt like I would never be good enough and never be an okay person to be around. My self-confidence was through the floor.
I got pregnant very young and with a man that I had only known a hand full of months. We got married, had a child, and bought a house within a calendar year. I was preoccupied with my new roles and being a mom to a child with special needs. I found a new purpose in my role as a mom. My concerns and self-doubt switched from being about my personality… to feeling like a terrible mom. My poor coping skills took on a new form.
As my daughter grew and began talking, the same tendencies began to show in her. She struggles with self-control, and she talks a LOT, mostly narrating what she is doing. It wasn’t long before the comments started coming. Every time someone commented on her personality, I felt sadness for her and me. All my insecurities began to bubble to the surface again.
The worst comments came from a well-meaning family. They pointed out that “now I knew what they went through” and why they treated me the way they did. They wanted empathy and understanding. Possibly even forgiveness. All I felt was hurt and anger.
Seeing my insecurities in my daughter took some time to process. I struggled to reconcile my beautiful, smart, and funny daughter with the belief I held of myself. This belief was that I was annoying and not worth other people’s time or attention. I could clearly see that those things were just not true about my daughter. How could it be? She is just like me, in all the worst ways. Yet, even though she possesses those same qualities and felt exasperation, I could clearly see these qualities aren’t some simple character flaws. That’s not the whole picture.
The truth is, I understand the frustration others had with me as a child. I sometimes feel them, too, when dealing with my daughter. Heck, sometimes I even feel them when it comes to myself. I just wish I was taught that I wasn't doomed to be an annoying person. That it wasn't my identity.
I'm doing my best to accept myself and my daughter and build self-esteem in both of us. But, I also recognize that we both have the power over our own actions. We can change if we want to. But that change also needs to come from self-love and respect, not from shame.
I have determined not to let my daughter experience the same depth of self-doubt that I had growing up. I may not be able to shield her from comments, but I do have the power to teach her that those comments don’t dictate who she is or will become. I can do this because I was able to see myself through her.
