lessons learned

My childhood experiences taught me lessons on the opposite ends of the self-esteem spectrum.

My A-mom would tell everyone I was the smartest kid in town, argue to school teachers and principals that I deserved special programs, or try to get me special privileges because I was her little genius. The problem was that I never felt like I deserved those things. I was embarrassed by her hovering and fawning, and I didn’t want her to try to get special favors for me.

She never taught me the confidence that I could handle things on my own, or gave me encouragement to take risks and learn to succeed. What I was taught is that I always needed a guardian angel, a tireless advocate for her vision of what she wanted me to be. She wanted to live vicariously through my accomplishments, but she never gave me a chance to accomplish anything on my own. I was her mama’s boy, her little man, her caged bird; she didn’t want me to fly but she might let me sing.

On one hand, I was the perfect child who could do no wrong; on the other I had Lila (the mean older woman my A-mom lived with) telling me I wasn’t worthy of anything special, and I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was. She taught me that I didn’t deserve A-mom’s attention or blind praise. She told me that if I felt sad or tried to express my feelings, she would give me something to cry about. I was a goody-goody who didn’t deserve to be treated well, and I was goddamn lucky to have someone to put a roof over my head. I should be ashamed of myself.

Lila was bitter and cynical and damaged, but she taught me a few fears that have stayed with me. Be suspicious of people’s motives; people only want you there if you are useful; nobody really cares about your feelings; everything can be taken away in a moment; everyone is out to get you, and you have to get what you need on your own.

So my childhood experience left me with a crushing lack of self-esteem, fueled by the fears of loss, rejection, inadequacy, and humiliation. I was also left with a lot of anger, and I turned that anger into a desire to prove people wrong; I wanted to succeed to spite Lila, and I wanted to do it on my own to prove I didn’t need A-mom to pave the way for me. I didn’t feel loved, I felt more like a prized possession unworthy of love. I had the self-confidence that I was intelligent enough to succeed academically, but it was a shock when I realized I was socially inadequate, and that I was a joke to most people, reinforcing the lessons of mistrust and suspicion.

This all happened by the time I was 13, and it has shaped my entire life.