socio-political self-help and stuff
i’ve been thinking a bit much lately. something i do quite frequently… but right now, experiencing serious reflection upon my own life. i think about the fact that i really didn’t know much about either of my parents’ history until well into my adult years. and i’m sure that there’s much more that i don’t know. it makes me wonder – why?
it seems that in previous generations, there was an at-birth swear to secrecy. because no one talked. no one shared their triumphs, failures, neutralities. mothers didn’t sit with their daughters to tell them of the hell they raised as teenagers. instead, it’s been hushed. wild nights in the backseat of an ex-boyfriend’s car painted over with pictures of good girls who didn’t do stuff like that. the runaway who magically becomes the girl who did exactly what her parents told her.
no, these aren’t my own mom’s stories. i wish i could relay more than the matte she chose to paint over a glossy life. but i still don’t have a complete picture of what her life was like. i assume that she’s reluctant to share for fear of judgment. or that she believes that i won’t understand. but i won’t. and i will. i mean, my life has been no crystal staircase. her history is mine. and not one of us walking this beautiful planet are perfect.
until one learns from their history, they are bound to repeat it. the rise of social media and the anything goes/share everything culture may give many the shakes, but i am quite encouraged by the openness of the current generation. despite all of the immediately apparent pitfalls. but those drunken twitter tirades are forever. making it not so easy to paint a classic over graffiti…
share your life and experiences with your children. it will make you seem so much more accessible and real to them – and give them the opportunity to make a different choice. how can you learn from your history if you do not know it?