kaudio Posted May 4, 2008 Report Share Posted May 4, 2008 Hello, this is my first post here with this community and generally my first attempt at sharing my thoughts and feelings with others so if I come away a bit odd I thank you in advance for your patience. http://health.msn.com/pregnancy/articlepage.aspx?cp-documentid=100142037>1=8404I came across the above article which argues that parental hyperconcern may be why kids cannot cope and found that I shared something in common with the people described within. My parents have a life planned out for myself, and they have dictated how I should spend my time, criticized my school and university work, and everything in between. While I studied as an undergrad, my writing skills were poor and did not meet the expected standard. I wished to respond and meet my parents expectations so I approached them for help to polish my skills. My father would review my work and criticize my mechanics rather harshly, but I decided it was best to receive help from my father rather than apply to a student writing workshop. When he came home each day, if he was dissatisfied with something remotely related to me, he would say things like, "this is all I can expect from a C student. No motivation, no effort." At one point, each time he came home he insisted I untie his shoes and take them off for him. When he wanted something he would call me to fetch it, like tv remotes, water, slippers, floss, or whatever he wanted at the time. These small tasks wore down on me such that I dreaded the times when he would return home from work. The worst was when he would mislead my mother that I was not working on my essay assignments and left things to the last minute. Then my mother would also criticize me along with my father. I felt like I was going insane while enduring this treatment from my parents. Whenever I took issue with the way he treated me, my father would ask, "is this why I pay for you to be educated? Maybe I should stop." At one point the thought of suicide crossed my mind. The very thought terrified me because I would sometimes contemplate suicide in the abstract. The actual intent for suicide was never there until that one moment. By then I knew something was wrong and I had to cope, but I just didn't know how.I tried to cope with my circumstances and treated the situation like that of an office environment, but sadly, when I did ask for their approval that I seek out work, they denied me as well. Without actual work related experience I chose to believe anyway that they wouldn't treat their co-workers like this, so why me? I wanted to take up some sort of extra-curricular activity - like judo - to take the edge-off, but they objected to my suggestions. My mother argued that judo would encourage violence and that I would be bullied and hurt by the other members. They forbade me to spend more time on campus and refused to give me their approval.Clearly, I am rather dependent upon my parents. By the time I did achieve my degree, my motivation was poor, my grades were average, and I crashed into bed. I wanted to sleep forever, waking up was not very important. I never talked about this to anyone else even when my professors began to catch on that something was not right because I didn't want to bring any shame to the family. I kept it in, endured, and I suppose I really did crash. If I had a sense of identity, I felt I had lost it since graduation. I bought the Teachings of Buddha, the Bible, self-help books like Getting Things Done by David Allen, but they didn't satisfy what I was looking for. I couldn't finger what exactly inside me was wrong. I may have thought I was depressed, but after reading more about depression I didn't seem to fit the description. While I blamed my parents for the way they treated me and looked inside for answers, the one thing I knew for certain was my confusion. Now, when I write about my life, I remember how I once believed myself to be a responsible person. Yet, it pains me to admit, that it seems I am but a wimp of a nation. I don't want an extended childhood between 20-30 years of age. It's hard enough to consider being a wimp, but after writing this much, what now? I'm awake, I'm not dead yet, I'm not defeated enough to roll over and die, I care a great deal for my family, I don't see any of my friends anymore, and for the first time in a very long time I'm feeling frustrated. What do the foolish wimps of Hara Estroff Marano from Psychology Today do? Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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