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haileesstory · 4 months

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Chapter Eight: A Mother-Daughter Bond

Trigger Warning:

This chapter contains themes of anxiety, self-doubt, and the pressure of perceived parental expectations. Please proceed with caution if these topics may be triggering for you.

During those turbulent times when loneliness seemed to be my closest companion, an unexpected and beautiful transformation occurred in my life. My best friend was no longer a confidant in my imagination, but instead, she was the woman who had brought me into this world—my mother, Tara.

We became inseparable, forging a bond that transcended the conventional roles of parent and child. Together, we navigated the stormy seas of my emotions, seeking solace in each other's company. It was no longer the Hailee and Tara show; it was the Tara and Hailee duo, united by love, understanding, and unwavering support.

Tara had always been a loving mother, but during those trying times, she became my anchor, my source of strength. She held me close during the darkest nights, wiping away my tears and whispering words of comfort. She never judged, never questioned, but instead, she listened—truly listened—to the words I struggled to articulate.

We shared moments of laughter and moments of quiet reflection, finding solace in each other's presence. Whether it was a shared cup of tea on a rainy afternoon or a late-night conversation under a blanket of stars, Tara was my rock, my confidant, my best friend.

My father, John, was also there, but his presence felt distant and uninvolved. I often felt as if I were letting him down, as if my struggles were a burden he couldn't bear. His lack of encouragement and support weighed heavily on my heart, creating a divide between us that I couldn't bridge.

As I leaned on my mother for support, I couldn't help but feel that I was failing my father. His absence in those moments of despair left an indelible mark on my perception of our relationship.

My anxiety continued to gnaw at me, whispering in my ear that I was a disappointment, that I was not living up to the expectations I believed my parents had for me. It was a pressure I couldn't escape—a relentless weight that clung to my shoulders, urging me to be more, do more, and achieve more.

I felt like I was drowning in a sea of self-doubt and uncertainty, desperately trying to swim to the surface, but the waves of anxiety kept pulling me under. I longed for my father's reassurance, for a word of encouragement, but it remained elusive.

Tara, on the other hand, became my lifeline. She understood the depths of my despair, the weight of my anxiety, and the suffocating pressure I felt to meet nonexistent expectations. She offered me unwavering love and support, reminding me that I was enough just as I was, that I didn't have to prove my worth to anyone.

In her embrace, I found solace from the storms in my mind. She became not only my mother but also my closest friend, my confidant, and my pillar of strength.

Join me as I navigate this transformative period of my life, where my mother, Tara, becomes not just a parent but my closest friend, and where the absence of support from my father, John, deepens my sense of isolation and self-doubt. Together, we forge a bond that will shape my journey toward healing and self-discovery.

#MotherDaughterBond #Anxiety #ParentalExpectations #Support #SelfDoubt #childhood memories #hailee alexandra melanie munroe #identity #journey #original characters

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jer1967 · 9 years

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Parent Expectations

I recently read a blog from a mother, also a former admissions officer, advising her readers to chill out on their expectations for their children. Specifically, she tells parents to “let Harvard go.” You can find the blog here.

The crux of her point is how parents often place too much pressure on their children. It is sometimes as if a parent wants their child to find success in a vain attempt to make up for some abject failure from the parent’s earlier life. Or more ominously, to gain bragging rights over their friends. The syndrome of “look how awesome my child is.”

Whatever the motivation for pressing their children to become super-students, it has arguably led to tragic results in some cases.

There are some who have criticized the blog, telling the author she is promoting mediocrity. One might take the view that these critics have missed a salient point. A more severe view is that they are acting in an egocentric manner, perhaps in need of a lesson in empathy. These are examples reminding us that there are parents out there who would serve themselves well to spend time reflecting and listening. I will expound on this angle of egocentricity later.

But first I am going to open myself up to criticism by sharing how I parent. This might get ugly for me. Here it goes.

It is safe to say I am viewed as a strict disciplinarian when it comes to my two daughters. Since they were old enough to comprehend consequences there have been clearly defined boundaries, with very clear results when those boundaries are pushed. I previously viewed one of my responsibilities as a parent to be the raising of an eventual responsible and productive member of society. Now I have backed off of this view. For the punchline you will have to wait until the very end.

I am a flawed parent. An extension of being a flawed human. At times I have over-reacted to things which push my buttons. I have had to learn to tone it down. My actions have at times weighed on me. I recall being on long road trips in support of my job, wondering if I want my daughters to view men as screaming idiots who demand perfection.

There is no manual which teaches us how to be parents. Perhaps this is an overused statement, but it rings true for me. I have worked hard to be a great parent, all the while knowing I may not ever ascend beyond the level of average. I have had to learn as I go. As I type this and perform a self-evaluation, with a daughter approaching thirteen, and the oldest recently reaching sixteen, I am able to reflect on some successes and many failures.

The wife and I always emphasize respect. The greatest amount of pressure enacted upon my daughters has come when they have spoken toward us with disrespect. Any parent with a teenager knows of what I speak. But when it comes to grades, or musical instruments, or sports, we have taken an entirely opposite approach. Or let me be completely honest. We now take an entirely opposite approach when it comes to grades.

A few years ago my youngest daughter, during her fifth grade year, become interested in soccer. Of my two daughters, she is the athlete. One game in particular, when she was called to action, and immediately made a nice kick in support of her team, my cheering nearly turned to tears. I could feel her achievement deep within my chest.

A few weeks later she approached me and her mother, stating she did not like soccer anymore and did not want to go to practice that evening. A decision was suddenly placed upon us, the parents.

Any parent who knows anything about sports probably remembers a scene similar to the following. An over-enthusiastic dad, walking up and down the sidelines, or screaming from the bleachers, yelling at the referees, and pushing his child to greatness. After the game (insert any sport here), he has a debrief with his child on the performance, and maybe speaks with the coach. What a great dad, many will state. Look how interested he is in his child, others will say.

There is something to be said about following through with a promise. As an adult your word is at times the one thing which separates you from others. We told our daughter she had to attend practice, and that she had to finish the season. She had made a promise to her teammates, we explained to her. Months later, as the next season approached, my youngest daughter told me she no longer wanted to play soccer. I gave her a hug said, “That is just fine honey. Whatever makes you happy.”

Was I a good parent? Did I handle this poorly? Arguments can be made for and against, I suppose. What I knew at the time is that I did not want to become “that dad.” I wanted my daughter to live up to her promise, but I never once discussed her specific performance on the field. All I ever said was “great game honey!” When she decided she no longer wanted to play as the next season approached, I responded, “No problem.”

My oldest daughter has been playing the violin since she was in the fourth grade. She is now a sophomore in high school, and has informed us she will not be continuing violin her junior year. This was another decision point. Deep inside I wish she would continue, and I have shared this feeling with her. She has been doing it for so long. I get the same proud feeling deep in my chest during her orchestra concerts.

My daughter does not like the current violin teacher, consistently complaining how he treats the honor violin students better. My wife and I have told her that one way to fix this is to practice and become a part of the honors orchestra. I have shared stories with her about The Beatles. How they were booed off stage in their early years, but eventually became superstars. For years I have encouraged her to practice more at night. She rarely does.

My response to my daughter, who I desperately wish would continue the violin, was, “That is just fine honey. I want you to do what makes you happy.”

At this point, you the reader, might be a person screaming into the page how I am failing my daughter. How I should be pushing her to stick with the violin. How I should be teaching her to become great, instead of allowing her to give up. Let me be honest and blunt. If you are one of the people screaming into the page at me, I firmly believe you are wrong.

Both of my daughters have been on the honor roll since they began receiving grades. My oldest was recently one A (she scored one B and all A’s) from being on the Dean’s list. They don’t actually say Dean’s list, but I like that term because I remember achieving it for one glorious semester in college.

I remember with perfect clarity the approaching end of summer in 2012. The first day of high school was just around the corner for my oldest daughter. She was in full tear mode trying to talk to me about her anxieties toward high school. Why was she in such distress? She was genuinely concerned what my response would be if she scored below a B on an exam. I know my daughter, and I know the difference from drama and true despair. This was true despair.

The wife and I have always emphasized studying hard and making good grades. Yet at this moment I felt like the biggest jerk this side of the hemisphere. I reflected, as I am prone to do, and then calmed her down. I proceeded to assure her that if she failed a test I would still love her. Now, three semesters later, she has not even come close to failing a test, much less a class.

But there was a reason my daughter was upset. Up to that point I had been very clear on the ramifications of scoring a grade below a B. Specifically, I had told her if grades ever decreased she would lose certain privileges.

I have since changed course on this. Now I never discuss the ramifications for scoring low on a grade. My daughters place enough pressure on themselves. They do not need it coming from me. When they show me a good grade I reap praise upon them. On the rare occasions they score poorly, I tell them, “No problem. I am sure you will do better next time.”

When my oldest discusses college I am openly non-committal. At every opportunity I can, I emphasize to her to choose a place which she will enjoy. Recent conversations have centered around her enthusiasm toward graphic design. My goal is to direct her toward a school where she can enjoy her passion. The so-called quality or reputation of the school is completely irrelevant to me. There is a financial aspect to this as well. I cannot afford out of state education. Another subject for another day.

But I could push her to pursue perfection and a scholarship. She has mentioned Stanford to me. I have told her I can’t afford such a lofty school, that she would need a full ride to go there. But I will not press her. If she attends the University of (insert a name), I will be as proud as I can be. If she decides to skip college, I will be proud of her. My daughter is awesome. Nothing in life can change my view of her.

How has my oldest girl managed so well in school without direct pressure from us, the parents? How is it that both of my children are driven toward good grades and achievement? I was the opposite in middle and high school. I graduated high school with a 2.44 GPA, and barely scored above 1,000 on the SAT. This severely limited my college education choices.

I have openly shared with my girls my poor performance in high school. I have also shared with them how I believe it was irrelevant to my successes in life. “What the hell are you doing?” you might say. “You are giving them a free pass to repeat your mistakes of high school and score average on their grades!”

My answer is, “Yep. I sure am.”

After I finish writing this article I plan to reemphasize with each of my daughters that, in the end, I do not care if they fail a test or ace a test. I will love them just as much. Label me “Mr. Mediocrity” if you want.

I am a very successful man. I completed a twenty-year career in the Marine Corps, achieving every goal I set out for myself in the process. I have now been in corporate sales for nearly five years. I am one of the top salesmen, with less experience than my peers, make a nice salary, and my family is well provided for. I can provide a litany of achievements for you, yet none of them fall into my category of success. It is much more simple for me.

I am happy. Very happy. I have two daughters and a wife who adore me, and I adore them. They forgive me my mistakes, and I do the same for them. I view life as fun; something to be toyed with and to make fun of. I am content.

Maybe my daughters make good grades because of the early pressure I placed upon them and it has become habit. I really don’t know. I think I will ask them.

But maybe they feed off the example I provide. I approach everything I enjoy with focus and enthusiasm. If something is not interesting to me, then I push it out of my life. Perhaps they are feeding off their observation in how I approach life? I hope this is the case. I hope it is not because of the early pressure I placed upon them, which I view as one of my great failures as a parent.

For those who view me as promoting mediocrity in my children, or who view the blogger I mention at the beginning as doing the same, I promised to explain why I feel you should reconsider your stance. Hang on, I will get there.

I am not a psychiatrist, or a psychologist, or any “ist” for that matter. But I have a pretty good handle, so I believe, on how our environment influences us during our formative years. In many ways we become our parents. Yet school and the world outside our homes has a profound effect on us as well. Today this is more true than ever.

If you are a parent in your late thirties or forties, sit back a moment and think of the information at the disposal of your children. Think about what they are exposed to, verses what we experienced in the eighties or nineties. Our children at the age of fourteen are far more educated than we were at the age of eighteen, or twenty, or even older. When they become parents, they will likely possess a greater level of intelligence than we could ever hope to achieve.

Some of you might be bothered by this. I will label you my little ego-humans.

I should clarify something here. I want my daughters to be goal-oriented. Well, perhaps this is a poor choice of words. I want my daughters to seek happiness in life. I do not want them to accept the status quo. If they are unhappy later in life, I hope they will actively make a change to become happy.

But I do not want my daughters to go through life measuring themselves against the expectations of others. I believe success is measured by the individual. How you view yourself in the mirror. Call it my “Philosophy 101” if you want.

How do I parent my girls to become the person I envision? Someone who views success the same as I do? Well, there are two answers here which come to mind. The first is; I don’t. I will do my best to guide them to seek happiness and fulfillment, but I cannot expect them to become anything. To place expectations is to place my ego above their well being.

The second answer is to love them for who they are. I will expand this last statement. Love them for who they are, not for who you want them to be.

Okay, so why are you a parent in need of some reflection for viewing me and the blogger as promoting mediocrity? Assuming you, the reader, fit in that category. If not, then perhaps you are granting me a proverbial pat on the back as you read this. However, if you are not with me, then I suppose I could stop right here and say, “If you do not yet get it, you probably never will,” but that would be a little unfair.

When my oldest daughter informed me she was leaving the violin, maybe forever, but certainly for a year, I could have forced the issue. And I would have won. Believe me, I can win a battle with my daughter. But in choosing that course of action I would have been forcing my version of my daughter onto her. I would have failed to empathize with who she wants to be. I would have allowed my ego to get in the way of my judgement.

Missing the point? Let me try another angle. People label other people as failures every day. If you have ever looked at the television, toward a person who is down in life, or a friend or sibling who has lost job after job, and labeled him or her as a failure, then you have allowed your ego to get in the way of your judgement. You have taken your definition of success and applied it to another human being. I cannot think of a more apt example for an egomaniac.

Yet, if you are a parent who pushes your child to achieve admission into a preeminent school because you view that as the ultimate road to success, then you are doing the very same thing. You are an egomaniac who has probably entered “empathy” into a Google search to learn what it means.

If this has read as “Jerry’s Roadmap to Parenting,” than I am failing you, the reader. The fact that I plan to reemphasize to my girls my views on “grades” and “life” after I complete this article is evidence enough of my lack of confidence I am doing the right thing as a parent. I have highlighted some of the mistakes I have made thus far as a parent. There is a pretty good chance I will make another one within the next twenty-four hours.

Whether I am judged by my daughters as a good father, whether my wife or my friends judge me as a good or poor parent, there is at least one thing I strongly believe. My view of myself as a parent will not be related to where my girls go to school. It will not be even remotely related to what my girls end up doing in life.

If one of my girls ceases her education halfway through college and decides to become a (insert whatever you want here), I will not measure my worth as a parent off of that outcome. If one of my girls becomes a super biologist discovering new cures for humanity, I will not measure my worth as a parent off of that outcome.

My goal is not to raise super humans so I can be the father on the sidelines of life, proudly stating, “look at my girl!” My goal is to raise daughters who are happy in life, and who know they have a father who loves them no matter what.

Oh, and by the way, I am already on the sidelines yelling, “look at my girls!” But not because they are on the honor roll, or because my youngest daughter is thinking of taking up running, or because my oldest daughter is good at the violin. My two daughters are their own person. They are mostly happy (with teenage drama intermixed here and there). I am so very proud.

#parenting #parentalexpectations #lovemykids #egoism #empathy

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