Some Wisdom

When my girls were little we lived in a big four square house on a corner lot in Owatonna. The house had a big back yard with apple trees, an oak tree, a linden tree and a black walnut tree. A whole row of peonies lined the sidewalk, down the side of the street, a natural fence. There was a wooden playhouse with windows (at one time even curtains) and a swing-set and sandbox made from a tractor tire. In the front we had a large front porch with white spindles that when you were out there, you could see down the block a row of trees and sky and more houses. A very large oak tree grew on the corner and shadowed the porch in the morning. When the girls were really little, they had a toy kitchen set and Strawberry Shortcake table and chairs set out there, too.

It seemed like it was always just me and my girls, for even when Steve and I were married he was often away. On tour with Prince, in UK for rehearsals, with Prince. Up in the cities, doing other concert or promotion work. Just me and my girls and this big, sun-filled house in a small, pretty town. Often, though I had this nagging, dark feeling and it was this, “If only I could start over.” It wasn’t so much about not having the girls, they were always my life and I loved them incredibly. It was about having space and time for the girls, and the thought seemed so dark and encompassing because I kept thinking if only I had more room, if only I could just clean the house all up at once, if only I had the right way to organize everything, then, then, I wouldn’t feel so overwhelmed.

I see now, with the wonderful clarity of hindsight, which of course can become wisdom if anyone cares to listen, is that where I didn’t have space, where I didn’t have room was in myself. Inside myself was a jumble of unfelt and unprocessed emotions which had no way to be expressed. I had no language to express my emotions, and so when all three girls would need me at once, I had no way to say, “Hey, calm down, I’ll get to your issues one by one.” Instead, I panicked, I simply drowned in their neediness, trying to present as if I was in control, trying to stay OK, but inside, was the overwhelming thought that I did not know how to be present, did not know how to parent, and wondered helplessly, “How did I get here? and Can’t I start over?”

So, I thought it was about being physically organized, which I actually was fairly good at. When in reality, it was about my internal self being disorganized, and my internal self not having the tools to be present for my small children. I did read up on parenting, and communication, and I see now, I still did not have tools to learn how to feel and learn from and integrate my emotions, and so I had no tools with which to guide my girls in learning from their emotions. Somehow, especially in this culture, where you don’t have to be particularly good at processing your emotions to get ‘ahead’ we’re all OK, but I do feel like now I have the knowledge to look back on myself with compassion, to make some sense of why I felt so overwhelmed so often.

I’m learning to feel, and process and integrate my emotions into my life now, and I’m becoming happier than I’ve been in years. To repair and reclaim this amazing part of myself is hard work, but fruitful. And Dan Siegel, in The Mindful Therapist, tells us that as we make sense of our own life as parents, that this sense is conveyed to our children, that they too, gain from our insights into our life. So when my daughters talk about me not being there for them, I can agree, instead of argue. I can say, “You’re right, you must have felt scared and alone then.” Even though I was physically present, I wasn’t always ‘there.’ And mostly, our children don’t want retribution, they want affirmation, to be heard, to be seen, to have their presence truly felt. If you could not hear or affirm your children when they were little, it’s not too late. Wisdom, what a truly amazing gift.