icon: "interconnectedness (two bald purple-skinned people in the ocean: from Joan Slonczewski's "Door Into Ocean")"Disclaimer: the ideas in this post are just my own philosophical musings, not facts
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This is certainly food for thought, I think I can get behind the theory and the sentiment. It also seems like a very gentle way to experience people who are perhaps love deficient, not to excuse abusive behavior, but insight into why people do what they do sometimes.
The worst part is that often, someone has to have experienced saturation themselves to be able to give it to someone else.
I'm lucky that this wasn't the case for me. When I had Z, I still had no concept of being truly loved. It had been abusive childhood into abusive marriage. It's I think, subconsciously, why I was so worried about being a parent, why I was convinced I'd be such a lousy one and wouldn't be able to bond with my child. When you've only been shown shallow excuses for love, even if you think that's all you can hope for, you worry you can't know how to offer real love, either. Because it's easy to believe YOU deserve no better, but that others, especially your children, do.
It makes me wonder if I offered real love to those who offered me abusive excuses for love in return. Was I practiced in giving and not receiving? Or had I never even given it before Z? It's weird to think about.
I think children are easy to love when you approach them in a nonjudgemental and open way, and you have always been good at letting people be who they really are, so all of that makes a lot of sense to me!
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This spoke to me on such a deep level that I actually a little.
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*cried
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I'm lucky that this wasn't the case for me. When I had Z, I still had no concept of being truly loved. It had been abusive childhood into abusive marriage. It's I think, subconsciously, why I was so worried about being a parent, why I was convinced I'd be such a lousy one and wouldn't be able to bond with my child. When you've only been shown shallow excuses for love, even if you think that's all you can hope for, you worry you can't know how to offer real love, either. Because it's easy to believe YOU deserve no better, but that others, especially your children, do.
It makes me wonder if I offered real love to those who offered me abusive excuses for love in return. Was I practiced in giving and not receiving? Or had I never even given it before Z? It's weird to think about.
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