As the parent of an adult introvert with multiple health disorders, I spent years desperately trying to manage my child’s life. I bought things for him he didn’t need or want, offered advice he’d heard and dismissed before, made inane comparisons to the lifestyle of the physically-abled. Each time I saw him I asked hundreds of detailed questions about his health, using my status as mother to pry into every corner of his life, looking for the magic button to his wellness.
Then one day I realized that I didn’t want to talk to my parents, my brother, or sisters. I couldn’t bear the concern in their voices. I wanted their help, they wanted to help, I didn’t want them to worry, I wanted help to stop them from worrying, I wanted help to stop talking about being worried. It was like an emotional moebius strip! That’s when I snapped to what I was doing to my son. I was piling my worries, camouflaged as acts of kindness, onto the load of responsibilities his health demanded.
It’s not easy to break a 40 year habit of helicopter parenting, especially when your kid’s good health is a relative condition. However, I’m working to offer respectful, effective, empowering assistance at my child’s request.
This painting speaks of the burden we caregivers are capable of placing on someone who is mid-struggle. Though it was originally conceived and drawn more than thirty years ago it has a very special relevance to 2020. You’re welcome to interpret and apply it's message to your life using the key to the iconography below.
Quisque iaculis facilisis lacinia. Mauris euismod pellentesque tellus sit amet mollis.