Reflecting on the pieces I’ve written here thus far, one might get the impression that NotSoDeepSouth is a trembling pile of human wreckage. Nothing could be further from the truth. I hardly tremble at all. But seriously, here’s a sample of stories I’ve contributed:
- How Did I Get This Scar?
- How I Dropped out of High School and into a Cult
- Growing up with ADHD
- My Experience with “Reparative Therapy”
- In The Wake of Sexual Abuse
My analyst likes to tell me that any one of these events would be enough to keep us talking for a good while but all of them together makes it seem like a minor miracle that I’m still alive. I recall staring at her blankly when she said this. What does one say to that?
I’m not sure how I came across this article. I’ve searched CT for reference to it and found nothing. You’ll have to forgive me if we’ve already high-lighted this article in a previous post. How to Land Your Kid in Therapy says that the latest methodologies in child rearing have many parents going to great lengths to protect their children from disappointment. Here are some excerpts:
Imagine a bright, attractive 20-something woman with strong friendships, a close family, and a deep sense of emptiness. She had come in, she told me, because she was “just not happy.” And what was so upsetting, she continued, was that she felt she had nothing to be unhappy about. She reported that she had “awesome” parents, two fabulous siblings, supportive friends, an excellent education, a cool job, good health, and a nice apartment. She had no family history of depression or anxiety. So why did she have trouble sleeping at night? Why was she so indecisive, afraid of making a mistake, unable to trust her instincts and stick to her choices?
I was stumped. Where was the distracted father? The critical mother? Where were the abandoning, devaluing, or chaotic caregivers in her life?
As I was reading this the answer was clear to me: They were at my house. I had the opposite of these “awesome parents” and “fabulous siblings”, I even lacked the “supportive friends”. But I’m supremely pleased with my life as an adult. I have a loving, committed partner of two years now. We just bought a house last June. We’ve got a fat white lump of a cat named Apollo, and a designer hybrid rescue dog named Tucker. I just broke six figures this year, and to top it all off I’ve started exploring the joy of writing. I’ve got many supportive friends IRL and a bunch more here at CT.
So what gives? Why am I so happy? Let’s read a bit more from the article:
Consider a toddler who’s running in the park and trips on a rock [..] some parents swoop in immediately, pick up the toddler, and comfort her in that moment of shock, before she even starts crying. But [..] this actually prevents her from feeling secure—not just on the playground, but in life. [..] If, on the other hand, the child trips on the rock, and the parents let her try to reorient for a second before going over to comfort her, the child learns: That was scary for a second, but I’m okay now. If something unpleasant happens, I can get through it.
One thing I can definitively say about my upbringing was that I tripped on a lot of rocks. I picked myself up quite a bit. This property is referred to as resilience. I seem to have it in abundance and from what I’m reading, I can thank the adversity and challenges of a “crummy childhood” for teaching it to me.
Photo via Flickr
