Getting it. Well not really, but kind of?
Raise your hand if you hate winter? Ok that's done.
After over a year and a half of Richa not hugging me, not talking to me about anything unless I force her "We're not leaving the driveway unless you tell me what's wrong.", and not addressing me as mom unless she's talking about me to someone else, it still takes unexpected car conversations and really weird moments when she regresses into orphan Richa in public for me to understand she literally still doesn't understand what it means to have parents. The adopted mom guilt then follows closely behind. Let me explain.
I know what you (and the annoying chick that lives in my head judging my every move) are thinking. Legan....she grew up in an orphanage in India? She's never had parents? And as much as I get that....meaning logically I understand that.....it's still a concept just as foreign to me as being a part of a family is to her.
"Do all kids talk to their moms?" I picked her up from art the other day and this came out of her mouth as soon as she buckled up. I was relieved to not make the drive in awkward silence (the usual) and thrilled she was sharing! I knew the window would close as fast as it opened so I knew I was on the clock.
She wanted to know if her friends talked to their moms and dads about their feelings, and if so why? We discussed the wisdom that comes with age (that should anyway), how mom and dad have been kids before so they know what to say that might help, but most importantly because mom and dad (us) love her so much and will listen to her feelings which usually helps the hurt we're feeling decrease in size a bit. Then we both sit in silence while she and I both process. I never remember even for one second wondering IF it was ok that I spoke to my mom and dad about something that was bothering me. Ummm hello? That's like your purpose on this planet right? If they were busy with their own insignificant lives, I found some other innocent adult that pretended to care about my SUPER crucial yet mundane tweenage problems.
I asked her what she would do in India if she was sad. Would she talk to a friend? No. What if she saw one of her friends was sad or worried about something? What would they do? Nothing. Not because she loved her friends over there any less but culturally it sounds like they just didn't do that most of the time. So for her it's really weird that we Americans are always blabbing to each other about how we feel and hugging each other. Anytime she wants to talk to someone about something we go through what has happened in the past when one of her other friends was sad at school. "Everyone gives hugs." Exactly! "Nothing bad happened!" But it's like a brand new conversation every single time.
Writing this I'm feeling a whole new level of compassion for my therapist. Guess we're all re-learning and undoing the messages we received as kids right? I'm 37 and I'm just now starting to grasp the fact that I don't have to be perfect and/or rescuing something or someone to be of value.
This past weekend she spent time with her grandparents and her extended family on her dad's side. She LOVES being a part of a family. We attended a funeral for her great grandmother last week, and when the preacher read the "surviving grandchildren" she beamed with pride. Being a cousin is like the coolest club ever to her right now. Even though I dread the tears that always accompany her drop back off into reality on Sunday, I love how much she loves her grandparents. Bedtime after a weekend with grandma and grandpa are usually pretty sullen. So last night we read the Invisible String. It's a great separation anxiety book. We've read it a million times, but the more fluent her English the more she understands the story. It's fun to see. How can the dogs feel my love? How can Ammamma and MJ (her grandma's) feel it? Even my friends? How can how can how can......
Feeling connected to others by the invisible string made of love is a concept I always just knew existed. I knew that my mom was coming back home, I knew my friends were still my friends even if we didn't talk every day, and I knew that boy that didn't talk to me or even know my name was really in love with me deep down in his heart. Overconfident much? Professionals in the field of psychology call this phenomenon attachment theory.
Oh so why I feel guilty. I look back and know at times (many times) I could have been so much more patient with her. But I just don't get it really. I probably never will to be honest. Kind of like most things in life. I'll get it once it's all said and done, and it's knowledge I don't really need anymore. I can't go back though can I? I can just do today and this moment. I'm so thankful she's starting to open up because the more she does the more I can tell her what she needs to hear. I tell her that too. "Good job talking about your feelings." "Good job using your words." "Good job doing something you didn't want to do." "Good job trusting me."
What I'm really saying is good job being vulnerable, allowing yourself to love others, and being brave enough to love them back. Something she and I are BOTH practicing.
