"Here if you need me"
I wonder how many times I've said those words. Probably the best way to describe that would be the good old "If I had a dollar..........." For these words, I'd be living in a riverside mansion I reckon.
This morning I was wondering why. The scenario that came to me was that of helping my kids. I've tried to as much for them as I can without making them into needy dependants. I've succeeded in that I think. There are three kind, considerate, caring and extremely capable individuals walking the earth. I'm so proud of them.
Yet I still offer to help with tasks that I know they are more capable than I am of achieving. It must drive them mental. They must think to themselves "Oh crap! Why does she do this?" So I thought about why I do it. Their reaction is theirs to own, but why do I do it?
So here's an example of where I wanted my parent to parent-up and do the damned job. To ask if they could help. Damn it. I just wanted them to help. To take control, to take the pressure off.
We had an old dog. We'd had him for about a decade, from a pup. He wasn't a great dog I have to admit. He was small, nippy, yappy, a bit mangy to be quite honest but that was due to him getting the wrong diet. He was a one human dog and I wasn't his human. But that didn't mean I was ready at age 13 to have to do the adult thing of having him put to sleep. That was a parent job not mine.
So, the decision was made he had to be put to sleep. Couldn't disagree, in fact I probably pushed the idea when I watched him walk off a verandah into a garden bed because he was blind. It was cruel to keep him alive, and I knew that. I just didn't want to be the one who had to decide, to coerce the parent into believing it, and then to carry it out. I think at that point, I wanted to go back a bit from 13 and just be the kid and have it explained to me and then watch it all move forward.
The next stage was the hysteria. My Dad had just returned from an extended visit to a mental health facility for treatment of what they at the time said was a severe illness, but was later thought to be PTSD due to his childhood experiences. At any rate, he was not strong, and was incredibly heavily medicated. But he did his best.
Parent 2 signed a cheque (those paper credit card things of the 70's) and ranted hysterically about it being the dogs death warrant. Slightly melodramatic, but par for the course in our house. Dad drove the car, which was probably not the best thing in his medicated state. I got a towel, the dog and went with him with the cheque in my hand.
When we got to the vet, the staff were surprised to say the least that a 13 year old walked in with a very geriatric ill dog, one parent in the car, one not to be seen and asked that the dog be euthanised. I can still see the nurses face at Reception. I don't think she knew which situation was the saddest. Neither did I. It was the first time I considered that I might be better off having the same treatment as the dog. Let the olds sort themselves out without me. I felt ever so slightly jealous that the dog didn't have to live there any more and I did. It wasn't a happy thought I can tell you. It also scared me that I was thinking those thoughts.
So I went into the surgery with the dog, the vet looked at me, and asked if I wanted to stay. More than that though he said "You don't have to stay, I can look after him". What a relief! A kind adult? Wow. In a crisis? Wow! I don't know what I said to him, but I know I left. Then went back to get the towel as I knew I had to take that home or get into trouble. I saw the little dog laying on the bench, glassy eyed and not breathing. I told the vet I needed the towel and he passed it to me. I gave the nurse at the counter the cheque and left.
Together without a word Dad and I drove home. I don't remember any conversations when we got there other than that I hadn't folded the towel up. Nobody asked if I was OK. Nobody asked if I needed help. I hated that feeling. I felt like nobody cared as long as I did what they needed me to do.
And from that was born the "Here if you need me" and the "I can help you" lines that governed the rest of my life. I equated need and help with love. In that 13 year old moment it was clear to me that if I was needed and if I helped, then the other person should love me. It wasn't right. It still isn't. I'm needed by many, I help many, but they don't love me. But the equation was born.
So if anyone reads this, and I doubt they do. If I say "I can help you" or "Here if you need me" that's actually my way of saying that I love you and I hope you love me too.
This morning I was wondering why. The scenario that came to me was that of helping my kids. I've tried to as much for them as I can without making them into needy dependants. I've succeeded in that I think. There are three kind, considerate, caring and extremely capable individuals walking the earth. I'm so proud of them.
Yet I still offer to help with tasks that I know they are more capable than I am of achieving. It must drive them mental. They must think to themselves "Oh crap! Why does she do this?" So I thought about why I do it. Their reaction is theirs to own, but why do I do it?
So here's an example of where I wanted my parent to parent-up and do the damned job. To ask if they could help. Damn it. I just wanted them to help. To take control, to take the pressure off.
We had an old dog. We'd had him for about a decade, from a pup. He wasn't a great dog I have to admit. He was small, nippy, yappy, a bit mangy to be quite honest but that was due to him getting the wrong diet. He was a one human dog and I wasn't his human. But that didn't mean I was ready at age 13 to have to do the adult thing of having him put to sleep. That was a parent job not mine.
So, the decision was made he had to be put to sleep. Couldn't disagree, in fact I probably pushed the idea when I watched him walk off a verandah into a garden bed because he was blind. It was cruel to keep him alive, and I knew that. I just didn't want to be the one who had to decide, to coerce the parent into believing it, and then to carry it out. I think at that point, I wanted to go back a bit from 13 and just be the kid and have it explained to me and then watch it all move forward.
The next stage was the hysteria. My Dad had just returned from an extended visit to a mental health facility for treatment of what they at the time said was a severe illness, but was later thought to be PTSD due to his childhood experiences. At any rate, he was not strong, and was incredibly heavily medicated. But he did his best.
Parent 2 signed a cheque (those paper credit card things of the 70's) and ranted hysterically about it being the dogs death warrant. Slightly melodramatic, but par for the course in our house. Dad drove the car, which was probably not the best thing in his medicated state. I got a towel, the dog and went with him with the cheque in my hand.
When we got to the vet, the staff were surprised to say the least that a 13 year old walked in with a very geriatric ill dog, one parent in the car, one not to be seen and asked that the dog be euthanised. I can still see the nurses face at Reception. I don't think she knew which situation was the saddest. Neither did I. It was the first time I considered that I might be better off having the same treatment as the dog. Let the olds sort themselves out without me. I felt ever so slightly jealous that the dog didn't have to live there any more and I did. It wasn't a happy thought I can tell you. It also scared me that I was thinking those thoughts.
So I went into the surgery with the dog, the vet looked at me, and asked if I wanted to stay. More than that though he said "You don't have to stay, I can look after him". What a relief! A kind adult? Wow. In a crisis? Wow! I don't know what I said to him, but I know I left. Then went back to get the towel as I knew I had to take that home or get into trouble. I saw the little dog laying on the bench, glassy eyed and not breathing. I told the vet I needed the towel and he passed it to me. I gave the nurse at the counter the cheque and left.
Together without a word Dad and I drove home. I don't remember any conversations when we got there other than that I hadn't folded the towel up. Nobody asked if I was OK. Nobody asked if I needed help. I hated that feeling. I felt like nobody cared as long as I did what they needed me to do.
And from that was born the "Here if you need me" and the "I can help you" lines that governed the rest of my life. I equated need and help with love. In that 13 year old moment it was clear to me that if I was needed and if I helped, then the other person should love me. It wasn't right. It still isn't. I'm needed by many, I help many, but they don't love me. But the equation was born.
So if anyone reads this, and I doubt they do. If I say "I can help you" or "Here if you need me" that's actually my way of saying that I love you and I hope you love me too.
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