I just don’t want her to grow up feeling rejection. I don’t want her to feel unwanted or unloved. So I hover. I helicopter. At 19mths, I helicopter over her at the park or indoor play places even though I know in my head that she needs to learn independence. I tell her to say, “Bye” right away as she approaches other children to say “Hi” and I urge her to move on. I feel pain when I hear older children tell her, “Go away baby!” or “No! This is not for babies!” I’ve seen them glare at her, take something from her hands, and sometimes even push her. On the outside I’m cool and calm. I tell her, “That’s ok, let’s see what else there is to play with.” or sometimes I’ll intervene and say, “Please be nice and share.” But inevitably I’ll want K to walk away from the situation.
Not all children react this way to K. Some don’t care that she’s playing alongside them or watching them. Some actually smile and say “Hi” back. But I try not to let her linger too long if the other child doesn’t seem interested in her because I just don’t want to see her getting hurt. Outcast.
Nobody likes rejection. We all fear and dread it. Some of us wear a tougher shell and act like it doesn’t matter but in reality, deep down, it does sting a little, if not downright hurts.
My mom used to tell me that I was fat and disgusting. She told me I would never get married because of the way I look. She said I was dumb, lazy, and slow. That I didn’t know how to get what I need in life to survive. I asked her if she even loved me. She said she was telling me these things because she’s my mother and nobody else would speak the truth to me like she would. She said this too comes from love.
As an adult, I realize now that she lacked real love in her life to think that what she demonstrated to me was love. Nobody told her it was okay to be happy with what you’re given in life and that being happy with your life didn’t mean you were dumb, lazy, and slow. Nobody told her that she didn’t have to look a certain way to be worthy of love and attention. Nobody told her that making your daughter feel small and alone wasn’t love. And because nobody told her… nobody told me. Of course I’ve figured it out since then…in my mind…but I’m now faced with the realization that my heart must not have been convinced.
“She’s cute, but she’s not pretty.”
“Her height is 46th percentile but her weight is 87th. She’s going to be short and fat like me.”
“She has no neck. She’s just a giant head on a body.”
“Geez, all she wants is to eat rice all day!”
“Don’t give her too much sugar. Or carbs. Or high sodium food. She has my metabolism.”
These are just some of the things I’m guilty of saying aloud to my husband about K, with K sitting right in front of me. And my husband, who will usually understand where my insecurities are coming from and just reply, “She’s fine.” finally turned to me one day and said sternly, “You better not say that stuff when she’s old enough to understand what you’re saying.” And my face turned red. Shame and embarrassment, mingled with slight defensiveness.
There’s a saying that you dislike traits in other people that you dislike about yourself. I realize now that the things that pop out at me about K are things that I dislike about myself. The feeling that if someone in society rejects me, it hurts because I believe that their rejection of me is due to my own shortcoming or failing as a person. I should be able to teach K about this, but instead, I make her leave and avoid before such an opportunity can occur. I make her think they are justified in their reasoning to reject her instead of just saying, “Hey, it’s not you, it’s them. There are people in this world who will like you and others who won’t. That’s ok and perfectly normal. You’ll feel the same way towards others too. But it’s not a reflection on your value as a person, nor theirs. You are always valuable, as are they, and everyone has their own mind so we let them exercise their will without letting it affect our souls.” ….well… something of that nature in toddler speak.
So nobody taught my mom. And nobody taught me. And now it looks like nobody is teaching K. Teaching her to love and accept herself. And this, I now know, is because there are parts of me that still doesn’t, can’t, love and accept me. It’s time for me to learn to love me so that I can love her better. I don’t want the voice in her head to be the voice I heard growing up.
Let me be affirming. Let me be encouraging. Let me be warm. Let me be brave. Let me be love.
thisissowong 