Who was it? The person who yelled. The person who shut them down. The person who made the sarcastic remark. The person who withdrew their support. The person who acted like their love was conditional. The person who tried to shake some sense into them. The person who laid a hand on them.
It was you. Their parent.
In the heartbreaking, eye-opening poem “The Clasp” (which we talked about recently), Sharon Olds speaks of the parent who is trying to protect one young child from another. The parent who has asked a thousand times. The parent who lost their temper. The parent who was worried. The parent who overreacted. In it, the parent grabs their daughter to stop her from hurting a younger brother and ended up hurting her daughter in the process.
It happened very
fast—grab, crush, crush,
crush, release–and at the first extra
force, she swung her head, as if checking
who this was, and looked at me,
and saw me—yes, this was her mom,
her mom was doing this. Her dark,
deeply open eyes took me
in, she knew me, in the shock of the moment
she learned me. This was her mother, one of the
two whom she most loved, the two
who loved her most, near the source of love
was this.
This should land heavy for us because our words and actions land so heavy on them. They trust us. They love us. They look up to us—literally. They want our approval. They want our affection. They expect our protection.
Nothing is more shocking and devastating than when they don’t get this…than when they get the opposite. It won’t matter to them, they won’t remember the context. They won’t understand the buildup or the regret. What will stick with them is who did this. And the person who did this was you.
You said the thing that can’t be taken back. You turned your back. You raised your hand. You left them hanging. You broke the trust, shattered the image.