Blowing Dandelions

Over the last few months, I have been talking on and off with a friend who, for the last couple of years, has been in anguish over the behaviour and choices of her parents.  When she needed them the most, her parents chose not to be there for her and, in fact, judged her for the (perfectly reasonable) decisions she made for her life.  It’s a situation millions of adult children have experienced.  

I think we all have an expectation that parents should be there for their children; that “our” parents should be there for “us”.  It is, after all, not an extreme idea.  The concept that our parents will love us unconditionally, is after all, what parenting is all about isn’t it?  So what goes wrong?  How does it happen that in situations where we most need our parents, where we desperately want them to show up, to demonstrate that they love us unconditionally, they fail?  

I’m not talking about child protection situations, having worked alongside child protection for over three decades I know and understand the complexity of parents who aren’t able to keep their children safe.  These parents, for the most part, are vulnerable and courageous and society has usually well and truly failed them.  

I’m talking about an average family, on an average street, in an average suburb.  All over the world.  To be honest I don’t have an answer.  I don’t think anyone really has an answer.  

The “story” that we are sold; by fairy tales, by Hollywood and by extremely wealthy advertising agencies,  the “story” that envelops us as children; is that we are born into a loving family, we grow up, we fall in love, we get married, we have children and our own loving families, with supportive parents and doting grandparents and we all live happily ever after.  But… it’s not real.  We all know it’s not real, but we still yearn for it.  So when “our” story misses the mark, disappointment and grief feel like they might swallow us whole.

My friend asked me why her parents have abandoned her.  “Why” is a question we all ask.  The complexity with the “why” question is that when we’re dealing with humans, there very often isn’t a straightforward answer.  Human beings aren’t after all a mathematical equation.  There are no laws of physics when it comes to the human condition.  My friend asked me why families can be so heartbreaking.  The only response I could find was that families are made up of imperfect, fractured and vulnerable people; just like her and just like me and just like you.

When we focus on the “why”, we feel justified in raging at the injustice of a situation.  We focus on “those” people.  The people who hurt us.  It might be our parents, it might be a partner, it might be a child, it might be a friend.  When we focus on others though, we miss what’s going on for us and for our own families and children.  We can get so eaten up by the situation that we risk losing ourselves.

We get stuck in the why, when actually why isn’t the question.  The question is actually what.  What can I do to try and heal this relationship?  What can I do to look after myself?  What can I do to care for my own children when they are hurt by the decisions and behaviours of other adults?  

So what can we do?  My friend sent her parents a gracious letter asking for them to meet with her so they could find a way forward.  They didn’t respond.  My friend offered an opportunity for the relationship to be healed, her parents have made their choice not to.  The “what” is now the place for her focus.  

When our hearts are broken by the actions and decisions of others, we need to take the time and space to acknowledge it.  To feel the pain, not try to numb it or ignore it.  To be able to say “my grief feels so unbearably heavy right now” and to simply sit with it.  Within the pain, there is a message.  The message is that I am worthy, I am valuable, I am precious.  The other person is also inherently worthy, valuable and precious, however their value and worth is not your responsibility and neither is yours theirs.

To acknowledge the place that the other person had in your life and, if it’s appropriate, to thank them for what they brought to your world.  I suggested my friend find a quiet space to thank her parents for creating her.  My friend is a beautiful, intelligent, kind and funny soul.  She would not be here without them.  

And then, and this is the big one… to try and find a place of forgiveness.  Forgiveness is not about saying what you did is ok.  On the contrary, it’s about saying what you did is not ok and it hurt me, however, I am choosing to lay it down.  Forgiveness is actually not about the other person at all.  It’s about us.  It’s about saying I am a human who needs to be treated with kindness, dignity and respect and you didn’t do that.  Because I am a human who should intrinsically be treated with kindness, dignity and respect I am offering that to you.  I am leaving this here and I am moving forward without holding onto the pain and anguish I have experienced within the past relationship I have had with you.  

Do we need to say this to the person who has caused us hurt?  Absolutely not.  Sometimes we can, but in my experience, the majority of situations have been so toxic that it would be unsafe and unwise to have this conversation.  Sometimes it might be helpful to write it in a letter and send it but, for the most part, writing what you need to say down in a letter and then burning it is more appropriate.

As I said to my friend, laying it down is like taking up a dandelion puff and gently blowing on it.  There is freedom for both when one person chooses to set the past down and walk away.

Angharad

November 2024