Yesterday I saw my therapist and he TOTALLY validated me in my struggle with Ruthie. She is, officially, a Strong Willed Child (heretofore to be referred to as the SWC). She is the one people write books about, he says. She is the one I will often feel like giving away, he says. She is the one who requires strict boundaries, he says to the Queen of Grey Areas.
But before I consider giving her away, he suggested I try to work though my own issues to see if that alleviates her behavioral issues. Damn that man is smart, and worth every penny.
But in all this therapy I think I may have cracked the secret code to my toddler-like fits of screaming and throwing things: I have a fear of not being taken seriously. Iâ€™ve realized that I take it personally when Ruthie continually disobeys me because I see it as her not taking me seriously.
Maybe itâ€™s because Iâ€™m the youngest child in my family. Or maybe itâ€™s because Iâ€™m the â€œoopsâ€ child who came eleven years after my brother. Or maybe itâ€™s because I was assigned to a TV tray at Thanksgiving dinner while the rest of the family squeezed around the dining table. Or maybe itâ€™s because Gordy once crafted a hand carved bird house for all my married siblingsâ€™ front porches while I, the single sister who rented an apartment, received no such special carving.
Maybe I’m just a big sissy and need to get a grip. Who really knows?
The point is, I’m the grown-up and Ruthie is the child and now is not the time to be re-living past insecurities. Ain’t it a BITCH what parenting brings out in us?