The Golden Child...

My siblings had long called me the Golden Child but I never believed them – until I noticed something a little odd…

Due to bad wrists, our Mum has only ever knitted 4 jumpers.  She has 4 children.  All 4 jumpers were knitted for me.

Hmmmmm…

I told the others all they needed to do was, at about 18 months old, accidentally scald yourself with boiling water in front of Mum, almost die a day later (but don’t ACTUALLY die – that is important) and survive with permanent scarring as a lifelong reminder.

You will then have both parents in your back pocket.  Easy…

So, that is what happened and I have to accept that I have been treated somewhat indulgently – with a mix of guilt, relief and fear – by my parents for much of my life.

I’ve been protected.  If anything was ever too hard I was all too quickly wrapped back into the warm, safe bosom of Mum or Dad’s embrace.  For the longest time, as a toddler, I can imagine my every breath was cherished – with massive scars splashed over my chest, shoulder and back to remind them if ever they should be even tempted to take me for granted.

All very understandable – especially now I have my own little girl at a similar age and can get some inkling of the pure horror Mum (especially) and Dad must have undergone.

…but all that has left its legacy.

I realised recently that I have had a strong tendency to sook and whinge under load.  My partner wholeheartedly seconded this realisation.  I wondered where it came from.  Surely I was not simply born a sooking, whining, Big Girl’s Blouse. 

Surely. 

I hope…

It turns out I wasn’t just born that way – but from a very young age I was cherished simply for breathing and hardly ever criticised or corrected.  If I found anything too hard I had a parent to take over.  If I tried something and couldn’t do it the first time I was told “That’s alright darling.  At least you tried.  Come and have a hug and a biscuit…” – and was never pressured to push myself or persist.

In competitions at school, like Bike Decoration or the annual Flower Show, Mum or Dad would do all the work and I would simply take the finished article to the competition and win the prize.

It was all done out of love but it meant I never learned to persist and developed an expectation of being First without knowing anything about the work that needed to go into it.

Eventually I hit the big bad world of adulthood and struggled mightily.  I couldn’t cope with constructive criticism, couldn’t apply myself well to any job and was unable to stick at any sort of exercise regime.  I grew fat, unhappy and resentful.

I learned a few things on the fly and adjusted to a degree but always had, in my heart of hearts, an expectant yearning for Mum or Dad (or near equivalent – like God or a Tattslotto win) to step in and fix everything for me so I didn’t have to try.  It produced a sort of sad, whingy laziness.  Sooky Lethargy.

Only a couple of weeks ago a penny dropped and a light went on in my head, revealing much of this.  I finally accepted that this was no way to live a good, successful, happy life and have the respect of myself or anyone else.  I had known all along, but fought it tooth and nail.

Life is hard to do.  The things you want require work to achieve them.  Do it, achieve your dreams and don’t complain.  Don’t make excuses.  Don’t try to blame people around you for your own inaction.

It is a better way to live – for me and anyone close to me.  It really, really is.  In some ways it is actually easier to accept the work that must be done and go do it than it is to search out excuses or some magical parent to do it for me.

The achievements produce satisfaction and confidence to achieve again.  Doing this over and over will bring a habit of achieving and that will bring strength of character and benefits all round.

So. 

To Mum and Dad I say “Hell, I don’t blame you for one second!” but now I must be my own disciplinarian.  I will do the work necessary to have the life I want and support the people depending on me.  I won’t sook, whine and cry for Mummy to do it for me.

If anyone catches me having a self-indulgent sook, feel free to prod me and remind me of all the above… ;-)