I was mindlessly flipping through YouTube late one evening right before bed when I stumbled upon a video of a female celebrity being interviewed. I have no idea who she is, and I didn’t care. In fact, I was about to keep scrolling when I heard something that caught my ear. She was explaining that she’s been doing some “inner child work” with her therapist. Her therapist suggested she pin a picture to her mirror so that every morning when she wakes up, she sees that little girl. She went on to explain that her therapist wanted her to think about how she talks about herself. That whenever she thinks about belittling herself, she look at that little girl and ask herself if she would talk about her that way. I broke. I couldn’t stop sobbing.
As far back as I can remember I have hated myself. Not that cliché kind of “hate” where you hate the way your knees knock, or you hate the way your hair is too curly. This hate was a genuine dislike of the complete makeup of your soul, my Gd created soul.
When I was about 3 years old my parents took me to LSUS Behavioral Sciences Hospital to have me evaluated by a specialist. They explained that there was “something different” about me. The specialist had to cut the evaluation short. They explained that I just couldn’t focus enough to complete the tests. They told my parents that I gave them all the correct answers, though not in the normative way. “He’s either a genius, or mentally handicapped,” said the specialist. This event would spiral my life into a never-ending rabbit chase of trying to find the “right medication” to “make me normal.” From the tender age of 4, I spent the better part of 25 years being put on every medication you can name to “fix me.”
I can remember being about 4 or 5 years old trying to play with some boys my age who I went to school with that were making fun of me. I remember laughing with them and quietly complaining on the inside that, in fact, I was a “loser” like they were saying. I do not have a memory where a part of my life was without being bullied, made fun of, hazed, teased, or ridiculed for being different and by adults as well as children. As a result, I learned to loathe myself from a very young age. Simply put I just wasn’t good enough.
So what? Why is this so important that I would blog about my problems?
I wish I could go back and apologize to that little boy. I wish I could tell him it’s ok to be different. I wish I could tell him that he is capable of anything he wants. I wish I could tell him he’s “good enough.” I wish I could tell him that he wasn’t a mistake.
After that YouTube video I looked at this picture of me and remembered how I used to be as a little boy. Oddly, I don’t see myself the same way now. I look at him and smile. I see a goofy, fun, and loving boy who had a wild imagination and the energy to match. I see an invariably impulsive clutz of a kid with the biggest heart and the best intentions who trips over his own kindness. I see a kid too smart for conventional school who had the potential to be very successful…and you know what’s funny? That kid is me. I’m all those things. I just never realized it.
Now, I have 7 children: three sets of twins and a little caboose. All of them are like me. ALL of them! They are all smart. They are all fun. They are all loving. They are all goofy. They are all wildly imaginative and with the energy to match. They are all impulsive with the biggest hearts and the best intentions. They are all kind to a fault. They all have a bright future full of success because they ARE GOOD ENOUGH!
For the past several decades the parental narrative of children has always been the “be seen and not heard,” most especially if you’re “different.” I’ve heard just about all I can take about how inconvenient children are and especially the ones who, like me, don’t fit the “normal type.” The past several generations have viewed every kid, except the quiet “do everything they are told when they are told to do it type, as “problems.” Let’s be honest here, kids are just NOT valued. They are bullied and it’s the fault of the societal narrative. My own parents didn’t want me to have children out of fear that my kids would have the same “problems” I have. Well mom and dad, I have kids and YEP they have the same ADHD, or whatever mental, problems I did. Yet, somethings different with them. Something is tremenedously different. It doesn’t seem to hold them back.
It’s my narrative.
They don’t see themselves as dented cans that no one wants to put into the buggy. They see themselves as incredibly capable humans. They genuinely love themselves. They are genuinely comfortable with who they are.
My oldest son, Jonah, has an issue biting his fingernails. So, my wife bought him a chewy shark’s tooth necklace that he can gnaw on instead of his fingers. Well, to my surprise, he was made fun of by the neighborhood kids. One boy told my 8-year-old son that “he must be a baby since he needs a pacifier.” When he told me this, he was not in the least bit upset. It had not phased him at all. Why? I mean, it made me mad and defensive. It didn’t bother him, though, because I’ve cultivated an atmosphere where he loves himself for who Gd made him to be. That boy’s words meant nothing to him because he knew what his Papa says Gd says about him.
Unlike my childhood, I’ve never EVER called my kids names. I’ve NEVER put them down for having frequent moments of being incapable of paying attention or being too impulsive and believe me folks I have SEVEN children who are ALL ADHD! They have all exhibited typical neurodivergent issues associated with mental issues.Yet, I’ve never thought of them as incapable of “being normal” and guess what? They aren’t on medication. In fact, they are all a grade ahead in school. They all read books by the dozen. I am fully confident that my kids will be highly successful in life because of the high value I have placed on them and how little attention I have drawn to their being “different.”
Let me pause and say that this “high value” is from GD alone. Not me. I am NOT responsible for their success. Yet, Gd has used me. He has used my negative experiences, with adults and peers, to shape the father He wanted me to be.
It grieves me to hear how negatively people view their children. They will spend tens of thousands of dollars to have children in vitro yet they ship them off to school just to have a sitter pick them up while they are off working. Or a father will spend half the year working off to “provide” for his family as if a dollar amount makes your kids think of you as a “great father.” Kids don’t care about money and believe it or not, the message your sending to kids is that they aren’t valuable enough. “If more people valued home over gold the world would be a merrier place.” (Thorin Oakenshield “The Hobbit”) If more adults valued the next generation more than themselves the world would be a merrier place.
Quit creating a narrative of inconvenience. Quit creating an attitude of “kids are exhausting.” Yes, yes they are. Though, I see it as a “good tired.” It’s the kind of job I look forward to everyday.
My children will outlive me. I may or may not live to see my grandchildren. Regardless, I KNOW my children will carry the gospel message to a thousand generations after me and all because of the high price I place on each of their lives. They aren’t an inconvenience. They are a blessing and if I can’t value them enough to help them work through each of their difficulties, no matter what they are, then I have no business having children. If all I can muster is to pawn them off onto the world to deal with, well then I have no business being a parent. If I amplify that they have “problems” that desperately need to be solved instead of downplaying them and helping them to maneuver through them then I am the real problem not them.
Stop trying to fix Gd’s artwork.
Dear Joshua,
You’re one AWESOME kid and I’m so proud of you. You’re smart, kind, creative, and funny. I know you make mistakes, but that doesn’t make you a bad kid. It makes you a good kid that sometimes makes mistakes and that’s ok. You need to know this because one day you’ll tell your kids these very words. More than anything, I love you just the way you are…meshuggah (crazy).
With all my love,
You at 37.
Children too are a gift from Adonai;
the fruit of the womb is a reward. – Psalms 127:3
Josh & Raye, Now! 