Mother’s love and thinking vs. feeling

Mother’s instinct is one of those things we take for granted that it is there… But there is nothing so attacked and criticized than how you raise your children. Whatever you do, someone always gets scared that they’re harming their own children by doing X while you do Y, and they want to, to ensure they are right and you’re wrong, to see if they can argue their point; how certain are you that you are doing the right thing by your children- with the assumption all children are the same and therefore all parents should be the same and all parenting decisions should be the same.

My mother thought her way through parenting. She still insists I’m the one who turned out the wrong way simply because I don’t know she did everything right, but… That’s just the Young Soul* in her kicking a fuss. I turned out wrong, we both agree on that, but the reason why, was because she went against her own instinct very early on, and I learned that I cannot trust her. I still don’t. Not with my milk money.

Being repeatedly dumped to a family day care didn’t help. I wanted to be at home with my mother, and being rejected every morning by my mother, as I was kicking and screaming to be allowed to stay home – I understand why she did it, but that doesn’t change the fact it hurt me. The same brutal treatment of family day care homes and schools went on until I got used to not being loved, even though my mother quit working to stay at home once I started school – or was it my brother? I am not saying that all children would suffer from this, I know some who absolutely thrive being with other people and around other kids, but I always hated kids, I’ve hated them when I was a child and I still do. They’re unpredictable and cruel. I didn’t have any means of defense against them, they simply brutalize you if you cannot beat the living daylights out of them yourself… And I would not. They are a pack of wild animals, most of the time, but I, an old soul, had lifetimes worth of civilization beaten into me, and therefore, I could not retaliate and take care of myself and make sure I won’t be eaten up by the pack of wolves that are children.

Now I can. All I had to do is to relearn how the human animal works. They’re driven by their instinct much more than civilized people understand and give them credit for. And they should do. Gods are separate. 😉

I needed my mother to be there for me a lot longer than an animal child needs them. I probably wasn’t ready to socialize until everyone else had reached the level of maturity that they can be trusted not to attack you at the smallest of provocation. I didn’t come out of my shell until 18 when everyone else was starting to get beaten into theirs.

How I hated being a child.

And yet, I think I would have been better on my own. If my mother can’t protect me, the least she could have done was to allow myself to avoid company that I felt threatened in. Instead, she was always pushing me into socializing, talking to people, and being around people, taking up hobbies that ensured I “had friends” aka ever-present threats in my life. While nobody ever bullied me, I always felt the threat to be there, and I kept my head low. I lived a lot of years making sure I never stepped on anyone’s toes so I’ll be left alone. And I was.

I was always OK with adults around, and with my brother who was and is a calm, respectful guy, but with no cousins, all my adolescent friends were non-relatives, who, in turn, had a lot of experience fighting for their feed at the dinner table against all the other wildlings. And still, out of the two of us, I was the wild one. He is 3 years to my junior, but he was the one who called a truce when he was 9, and asked us to never fight again. I gladly agreed, and the fist time we’ve gotten into words since then was when his first child was born and he gave him the most thoughtless name ever given to a child… Being a kid is bad enough, and being named ‘Pisss’ won’t make matters better.

In many of my previous lives, I cannot remember having parents. I remember my men, but I cannot recall my parents, at all. I feel like I’ve been allowed to grow up and vanish out of the home as soon as my legs carried me, and that’s the way I wanted, being locked in with children and women has never been something I regard a great life. I need a lot of space, and a lot of time for myself, and the only people I truly tolerate near me are my lovers. I cannot stand any conflicts, any playful arguments or testing of boundaries, all of that… I hate. An instinctive parent would throw a kit like that out of the nest because they cannot handle themselves in a social group. They will become loners, and that’s what we’re meant to be, we are supposed to fend for ourselves until we find our mates. In this society, we cannot. If we run away from home, we’re returned back, we are forced back to school, back to our age group, back into our families and social circles that are nothing but torture to us. We are wild animals, in another sense, forced to be our family’s pets.

But for us to survive in the wild, we need our parents undevided, toting attention from day one to the day we run from home. We need a lot in a short time, because we need to be prepared to a life on the street, essentially, not a life in a social group. We need to make our own way, but we are repeatedly locked back into where we don’t want to be. And our parents are told to force us to socialize because people have this thing about humans being social animals and if we don’t socialize, there’s something wrong with us – but that’s not the case. Whatever persentage of introverts there is in the society, that is how many of us are different.

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