My Daughter’s Path
I was 44 when I had my massive stroke. My daughter was just 6 years old when it took place. Even if I offered her the white picket fence, she would still need to navigate this stroke mother as a mom. On a bad day, it really stinks that I don’t get to give her an amazing normal childhood. On a good day, I get rockstar parking at the stores. Most days I’m weighed down with my ‘stroke’ guilt.
Now a teenager, my daughter is busy with jobs that I refer to as ‘her chores’. I can’t do them for myself so I ask my daughter to do them for me. Jobs such as putting up my hair in a pony tail, helping me fix my clothes or jewelry, writing or doling out medication while grabbing the garbage for me.
I want so much to be able to give her more than what I give her. I feel like I’m on a shoestring budget and can’t do much of anything besides collect disability. Because of my eyesight, I am unable to drive. I pray that her very limited childhood gives birth to something exceptional for her. She should be worried about something more age-appropriate like sea monkeys or something.
The sad thing is that despite all these personal chores that she does for me, I am still Noelle inside. I did all these things and much more before the stroke with no problem. Now, I need someone to do them for me. Unfortunately, it typically falls on my young daughter‘s shoulders. I may not ever get to do the things that made the ‘old Noelle’ before the stroke but I am still ‘Noelle’ on the inside. She will never know or meet old me. She only knows the ‘new Noelle’.
Comforting Kundalini Theory
According to Kundalini theory, before our births we pick our parents. Along with deciding on our parents, we also determine whether we live a short or a long life. We select the lessons we learn or teach others through our lives and circumstances.
When I heard this for the first time I fell in love with this idea. Many times it is difficult to answer ‘why?’ I think back to this and relish in its beauty. Not only do we have an answer for why, but we, for a moment have the beautiful image of creating with the divine and deciding over the course of our lives with God. We design with God and accept what is to come. We teach through our experiences and our lives. Here, we give permission for bad things to occur to us for the good of others.
In some cases when a major medical trauma happens to us, it may teach our children far more than it teaches us. My young daughter has lived a lifetime of caregiving. I feel tremendous guilt over this. If I act as though there is purpose in my circumstances than I teach my child a different lesson. Instead of being a victim of my circumstances, I give purpose to my misfortunes. With this perspective I love the look of my legacy.
Victim or Survivor?
In her book, The Conscience Parent, Shefali Tsabary asks parents why does a victim whine ‘why?’ when a survivor asks ‘how can I use this struggle for higher evolvement?’ (That sound you just heard, was her mic drop.) Your medical trauma can be used for good. Circumstances and caregiving is a gift to our children making them grow in ways we couldn’t have imagined.
Your pain has purpose, if you allow it. One of the most powerful questions I’ve been asked was by a fellow alcoholic. ‘Is your darkest past your greatest treasure?’ (Another mic drop.) It’s a great question to ask yourself.
Are you allowing your pain to have a purpose? When you live as your circumstances are purposeful you cannot view it or yourself as unfortunate. Letting you and your circumstances guide you illustrates acceptance. It demonstrates that you are a survivor, not a victim. This is an amazing legacy of attitude to exude to others.
The deck is shuffled and everyone picks up the cards dealt. Some people are happy as they uncover their cards, while others pause to accept the bad hand that’s in front of them. Some people bluff and some fold but the bad hand doesn’t automatically mean a game loss. Our children learn from their parental role models not their white picket fences. Is your darkest past your greatest treasure? This is a lesson worth passing on to our children.
