How I Fight My Nurtured Instinct to Abuse My Children

Becoming a parent changed everything for me. That isn't a generalization. Every area of my life was touched and altered. Every fact I thought to be true was challenged. What I knew about who I was? Becoming a parent catapulted me into evolution. I would change before I registered the change. Some areas of impact were larger than others. For example, becoming a parent offered me a new perspective on my parents and why they abused me. I understand their (skewed) logic, how fear can warp ideas and actions. I have become intimate with the reality of generational trauma and toxic relationship patterns--how they are self-sustaining, and also how they can be broken.

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Note: This is my submission for Hive account@bestowingfire's ongoing competition. I am not eligible to take the prize since I am the sponsor, but am participating anyway because his prompt is a great one. Get details on how to win SBD here.

Prior to motherhood, I considered myself weak. I lived as a victim, always afraid. I did not exert myself for fear of failure. I was trapped inside my own trauma and had no clue I was allowing it to steer my life. Then my son was born. I held him in my arms. He looked just like my father. And I breastfed him. That was the first conscious moment of my parentage interfering with my parenting. The resemblance between my son and my father has not faded. In fact, the two have very similar temperaments and rigid thinking patterns. So, when my son began to hit me, the second interference happened. I had a flashback. I mistook my son for my father. I tried to defend myself. Against a toddler.

I was at risk of fear-based parenting.

I could say my mental health went downhill from there. It certainly felt that way. But a truer statement is the moment I struck my child out of remembered fear was the moment my mental health began to improve. I got into therapy. Eventually, I found the right medications and supplements. I re-started my writing practice. I learned how to be angry without judging myself. And I looked so deeply into my family history all I could feel for my parents was empathy.

I know how parents become abusive. I also know how parents stop being abusive. My parents showed me both. I am showing my children both.

I do not abuse my kids, but striking out is my instinct. I have to fight it all the time. It takes a lot of energy to parent and not end up rocking in my closet, crying or focusing my breath so I don't hurt anyone. I have a ridiculous number of tools for staying away from the abusive parent I was nurtured to become. And my kids know all of them. I am honest with them. I have said, "My body is telling me to hit you right now because I feel like I need to protect myself. I'm scared of doing that so I'm going to go in the bathroom until I calm down."

When my kids get in my left field of vision near my face, it's an instant trigger. I don't know why. I tell them, "Mommy can't talk to you until you move over here." And if they don't move, I turn my body sometimes adding, "I feel like I might start to panic. Please help me by moving."

I have felt guilty for asking my children to help me parent them safely. I choose not to anymore. The reason is because, just as I saw my parents take steps to break their pattern, my children are witnessing my active breaking of abusive patterns.

I don't always succeed. Sometimes I lash out with words. But we come back together to talk about what happened and why and how it was not okay for me say X. I have great kids. They even interfere on my behalf when they see their siblings pushing me too far. A sister or brother will jump in to tell them, "You need to give Mom some space right now." My eldest, who is autistic like me, will ask, "Do you need to hum? Do you need a hug? It looks like you're feeling overwhelmed."

This is how I know I am doing something right.

I've said if I had known what parenting meant, I wouldn't have had children. I've also said I do not regret having children. These amazing creatures have taught me more about myself than I ever cared to know. They have offered me understanding when I am at my worst. Like me, they are learning how to be better than their mother and father. From their mother and father. I think this is beautiful.

Maybe I would not have chosen this challenge if I knew what it meant, but I'm glad I did. I'm glad parenting happened to me. Through it I have seen my own strength. I have witnessed myself rise higher than I dreamed. It is hard every day, and I am grateful.

P.S. I absolutely do not believe parenting is a necessary path to self-improvement. Not every needs to or should have kids. Thank the goddess for birth control.