Things my parents said to me as a kid that stuck around (and fucked with my head)

Or why I still hate myself when I cry

Lee Garibaldi
Aug 27, 2017 · 5 min read
My mother holding my little brother and me, in a time where we were still young and beautiful

I’m a mom now so I try to make sure I don’t fuck my kid up in the same way my own parents did me. And by that, I mean I am trying to fuck her up in a way that is uniquely my own. So that one day she can write an article like this but with a whole host of different problems. I can’t wait to read it. But for now, here are some things my parents said to me that stuck with me into adulthood.

“Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.”

What I heard: crying is a punishable offense

Besides getting you in trouble, crying was also viewed as a sign of weakness. Now I get angry when I cry. Or I skip crying and go straight to being angry. I also instinctively view other people crying as being weak. Rationally, I know this is wrong. But I have to take pause. I have to remember to tell my kids that crying is good for them. In my last rehab, my roommate used to joke that I couldn’t cry. In months of intensive therapy, I was probably one of a small group of people who never cried once and probably the only one among the females. Maybe this is why they kept thinking I was high (I wasn’t).

“Writing is a hobby, not a career.”

What I heard: you can’t be a writer because writers don’t make money. You should be a doctor.

Instead of studying something related to my true passion, I decided to major in biology so I could go to med school and make my parents proud. But I hated it and changed to psychology after one semester. Today I have a Bachelor’s in Psychology and I’m currently working on my Masters in mental health counseling. I try to write a little bit every day. I do some freelance writing but I don’t make enough money to call it a living. I guess mom was right on this one. And yet, I know plenty of people who do earn a living from writing. I only wish I could be one of them. Till then, I’ll just keep on writing for small or no pay just because I enjoy doing it.

“Put down that book and socialize.”

What I heard: reading is a punishable offense. Or my mom doesn’t like when I read so I should do this more often.

As a kid, reading was my favorite thing to do in the world. I didn’t want friends. I didn’t want to socialize. I wanted to be left alone with my books. My mom wanted me to be social. She wanted me to make friends and be popular. I had zero desire to do these things as I cleverly found good hiding spots for my books. Looking back now, I think it’s insane that my way of rebelling as a child was to not party and just stay in my room with a pile of books. In later years, I would turn in my pile of books for a box of syringes and baggies of dope. I’m sure my parents long for those days when I was a bookworm. I told my therapist in rehab that my mom used to tell me I read too much and she gasped and said there was no such thing as a kid reading too much. Because I’m also a mom, I know what she means. I have to fight and threaten punishment just to get my girl to read for a few moments. And she counts the minutes. None of the getting lost in a book for hours that used to drive my own mother crazy about me. I’d give anything to have a kid who “reads too much.”

“You should find yourself a rich husband to take care of you.”

What I heard: you can’t take care of yourself. You need a man to take care of you.

I married a poor man. Not only that but I got pregnant when he and I were literally living on the floor of my parents living room. We conceived on the crappy air mattress we shared there. We’d been together a month but it was love. We were both addicts far removed from our drug of choice. Freshly sober and owning nothing, we decided the best way to go forward was to get pregnant and then married. We would later divorce. But we are still together today. And we are still both broke. Today, I still hear family say I should find myself a rich husband. But now, it’s for my daughter’s sake. She should have a wealthy man taking care of her. In fact, just about a year ago I dated a man who was stable (not rich but with a good & steady income) and he bought me things and bought my daughter things. But shockingly it didn’t work out. Even a new iPhone, massages, and fancy dinners weren’t enough to take my love away from the one I really love. I wish my family would listen to The Beatles song Can’t Buy Me Love and really understand that money doesn’t buy love. They won’t though. Because they are Jews. And it’s all about the money. Relax. I’m (mostly) kidding.

My girl, fighting the good fight

Being a parent is hard. I am grateful to my own parents for all the hard-work they put into raising my brother and me. I know I wasn’t easy. And I definitely could not have survived this long without their endless support and love. If I can give my daughter even a fraction of that, she will turn out great.

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Lee Garibaldi

Written by

Mother, daughter, sister, writer, reader, editor, atheist, junkie, student, seeker of intelligent life on this planet, whovian, not sane, nsfw. On FB & Quora.

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made up of various elements

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