Let them value you

Many small, life long events led to my loss of value. Because I battle feelings of worthlessness, I manage to sabotage my own efforts. I never feel like I deserve the best. I wonder if I am worthy of the affection I am given. Am I worthy of the many blessings I have received? Feelings of unworthiness are like rust, they slowly and corrosively damage even the best relationships.

These feelings usually start in childhood. From birth, children need to know how valuable they are. If the parent tells a child by word or action that anything is more important than one of the strongest bonds in the universe, it will cause permanent damage, that may take years to show up. All the child will understand is that they have come in second place to a new relationship, work, alcohol, drugs, or any other item the parent chooses over them. They will always feel they are not important enough to be a priority, this makes them incapable of appreciating their own magnificence.

It is extremely difficult for the unworthy to accept that they may be valuable to others, that what they say matters, that they are needed and cherished. If we don’t let others appreciate us, we are limiting them. They want to express their gratitude, but we deny it. They want to show us adoration, but we ignore it. We are cheating everyone involved. We might not feel like a work of art, but to someone else we may be the Mona Lisa. So the next time you are fortunate enough to have someone realize your true value, let them.

Every child is unique

My mom told me how much character her grandchildren have. And then she said, “I don’t remember you guys having such unique personalities.”

But I have a feeling we did. The sad part is that sometimes as adults we get so caught up in the stress of life that we don’t appreciate the truly unique individuals growing up before our eyes.

To this day, my brother, sister and I are very distinct. You would never confuse our personalities. From the day each of my children were conceived, I noticed their individuality. My type A daughter was the one who bruised my organs, kicking vigorously in the womb. She arrived on a Saturday when all her people could be there to greet her. The drama continues to this day…

Because my son was so lethargic in the womb, I worried something was terribly wrong with him. He was born healthy, but not happy. He seemed bugged by the whole event. He has a temper and can hold a grudge, but is still not in a hurry to do anything. My youngest came on her due date and has been consistent ever since. She is spirited and opinionated, and I wouldn’t have her any other way. They all came from the same parents, but that is just about all they have in common.

There are little people all around us, waiting to shine. Every one of them has the potential to be magnificent. It’s easy to think that children are too young to have feelings and thoughts. We don’t acknowledge them or take them into consideration. This can break a child’s spirit. They need to be valued. They need to learn to be themselves. So each day that I am allowed to be a mother I hope that I will treasure my children, encourage their creativity, and smile when they show their amazing, never duplicated, uniqueness.

Divorce damages

I recently tried to explain, to my youngest daughter, what getting a divorce meant. I said, “It’s when a mom and dad can’t get along and they decide not to be married anymore, so they don’t live together.” I thought it was a simple explanation for a five-year-old, so I was caught off guard when her eyes suddenly filled with tears and she started sobbing. She then said, “Are you and dad going to get divorced?” I tried to reassure her that we hoped never to get divorced, and she soon calmed down.

This brief, innocent conversation made me realize something I had kept buried for many years: divorce damages! I remember the day my mom told us she was getting divorced from my father. She did all the right things: she sat us down and talked to us about it, telling us she loved us and that it was not our fault. Lastly, she said, “It’s going to be really hard for the next few years.”

I appreciate her telling us this, but for some reason it did not prepare me for the future. “It’s going to be really hard” was actually an understatement. I was twelve at the time, in sixth grade. I looked forward to school as an escape. My little sister, on the other hand, was five, and just starting kindergarten. She would cry every morning when my mom dropped her off at school. The tears lasted all day long, for most of the school year. Some days I would have to go to her classroom to try and comfort her, but to no avail. She was damaged. Seeing my own five-year-old sobbing brought back the sadness I had seen in my little sister’s eyes. A sadness that we will both carry for the rest of our lives.

I once read a quote that struck me: “As a child I grew up without any visible scars. But inside I battled monsters of rage, depression and insecurity with out knowing why … my parents’ divorce took away from me every child’s birthright—the feeling of being secure and protected.” It was if I had written that statement. A few days later, I was talking to my husband, who is also from a broken family. When I mentioned this quote, he said, “That is exactly how I feel.” We have both been robbed of our birthright; we are both children of divorce. Our scars are invisible, and our wounds are internal. They will never heal, and we will carry them for the rest of our lives, because divorce damages.

Are you a child of divorce? How has it impacted your life?

Your parents did have sex

This idea might make you squeamish. You have two graying, slightly plump people, whose passion seems to have faded and whose biggest concern is the lost remote control. You know them well: they’re your parents. How could these same people ever have been young, vibrant and amorous? It’s a truth no child wants to come face to face with.

It is much easier to believe that your parents only had relations the few times it took to create you and your siblings. Then you reach adulthood. You are young, vibrant and amorous and you wonder: is this how my parents felt? The hormones rage, and you are endowed with passion. You know, in an untapped part of your brain, that at one time your parents were the same way, but this fact you would rather deny.

This is hard to accept when your parents are still happily married after four or five decades. It’s even harder when they are divorced. There is usually an overabundance of animosity. The hatred runs deep. They are now passionately repulsed. But despite this repulsion, thankfully, they still managed to create you.

Sometime before you were born, two people were enamored of each other, enough to take the ultimate plunge into intimacy. They may try to deny this, but don’t be fooled—you are living proof. So the next time you’re with your parents, or your grandparents for that matter, thank them. Their passion is what brought you into this world. It may have been fleeting, it may be long gone, but it did exist. You may never like the idea, but it’s a fact that your parents did have sex.

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Sometimes they do know best

Most parents have years of experience that can outweigh our inexperience. Usually they have our best interest at heart. This can be hard to accept, no matter how old we are. When your parent gives you advice, you might want to stop and listen. You may be able to use only 1% of that advice, but that 1% may be very valuable.

A few months ago, my seven-year-old came to me with scissors in his hand and asked if he could cut his hair. Of course I told him “no”, and took the scissors away. He immediately went downstairs, found another pair of scissors, and proceeded to cut his hair anyway, removing sizeable chunks in multiple spots. If it hadn’t looked so ridiculously funny, he would have gotten into much more trouble, but we decided his punishment would be at least one day in school before we fixed it. When I asked him why he’d done it, he said, “I just wanted to see what it felt like to cut my hair.”

This reminded me of a few decisions I made as a child, when I thought I knew better than my mom. I shared these with my children, hoping that they would learn from my experience. The one that stood out the most was my cactus petting. After being told never to touch a small wooly cactus, I decided not only to touch it but fondle it. What did my mom know? It looked soft enough. To my surprise, it was extremely soft. I petted it, and petted it, all the while thinking my mom was a fool. My mother and I soon realized that despite its soft coat, it had left thousands of thorns in my hand, which my mom was not very happy to tediously remove.

Our parents do know us the best and have usually experienced something similar to what we are going through. They want to help, they want to give advice, they want to keep us safe. So listen, because sometimes they do know best.

You need them

Why was my first phone call after my dad died to my mom? Because I needed her. I needed her strength in order to break the news to my sister. No matter how old we are, we still need our parents. We know that even if our mates or significant others don’t believe in us, our mom and dad will. They have the ability to support us the way no other human can.

My dad would tell me that he only heard from my brother in rough times. If things were going smoothly in my brother’s life, my dad wasn’t needed, and my brother could depend on himself. Sometimes, though, we reach the point emotionally when we don’t have the strength to take care of ourselves. Maybe it’s a tragic event, a bad week or some unexpected news. We manage to hold it together emotionally for our children, our mate, our friends. Then our mom or dad walks into the room and we break down like a little baby.

No matter how badly your parents treat you, no matter how old you are, you need them. I am a married woman with an amazing husband and three children of my own, but I will tell you that without a doubt the hardest part of losing my dad was that I still needed him. When I was a teenager, it may have been for superficial things: to borrow his car, to help me fix mine, gas, food, money—all those things you need as an adolescent.

But as I grew older, I needed his support, his understanding, his strength. All those times when your parent is the only one who will do. So the next time you feel like an independent and capable grown-up, take the time to appreciate your parents when you don’t need them, because the day may come when you do.

When did you need your parent's the most? Please feel free to comment.

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Regret is our GPS

Regret goes hand-in-hand with loss. What kind of regrets will we have in life? How many decisions do you look back on and wish you could change? When you face loss, you always will have regrets. This is true not just with the death of a loved one, but with anything in life, including the loss of your job, your home or your spouse.

The worst part of regret is that, if you don’t have any, you will never learn from your mistakes. On the other hand, if you have too many, you will always be looking behind you and never move forward. So the lesson I learned is this: when you feel regret, stop and think about what it’s trying to tell you.

I regret that, during the last conversation I had with my dad, I was too busy to stop and cherish our talk. I didn’t sit down and enjoy our conversation. Did I tell him I loved him? I don’t remember—I was in too much of a rush. So what does this tell me? That, as usual, I was being impatient and thinking about things and not people.

My regrets are unsettling. They make me doubt my future decisions and also make me aware of my many failures. Regrets are much like a Global Positioning System. They are the annoying voice reminding you that somewhere along the trip you have gotten off course. They alert us when we have gone in the wrong direction. They prod us to take a new route. We may choose to ignore the advice our regrets are offering, but that will only result in us becoming thoroughly lost. On the other hand, if we listen to our regrets, we can change our path and safely arrive at our preprogrammed destination. We all know where we want to go; the hard part is arriving at our destination. Next time the annoying voice of regret tries to speak, it’s best to listen. Chances are, you have made a wrong turn somewhere along the way.


What are your biggest regrets? What have you learned from regret?

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Loss is inevitable

There are two types of loss, and I have experienced them both. The first type involves losing touch with a person for one reason or another. This is the loss suffered from broken relationships, severed ties, damaged alliances. The other person is still living, just without you.

I felt this loss when my parents divorced. It was the first time my dad was gone. The man I knew, who gave me life, was no longer a part of mine. He had moved to Arizona searching for comfort from his own mother, sister and brother. The impact of the divorce left a crater in his heart. Who better to fill it than his children? That is what his sister hoped, when she brought us for a visit. But that is not what happened. After driving for ten hours, we saw my dad for ten minutes. At the time, I did not comprehend the depth of this loss. It wasn’t until I had my own children that I understood why my dad chose not to see us. His life was dark; it centered on alcohol, depression and hopelessness. Thankfully, this loss was temporary. After a few years, my dad found his spirit and started putting his life back together, which included seeing his children again.

The second type of loss is even more devastating, because it’s permanent. It’s the unimaginable loss of a family member. It might be a mate you have spent your life with, the person who brought you into this world or a child that was a part of you. It really doesn’t matter who it is; we all feel the same: utterly devastated. Everything in our world is thrown into to the air and, unfortunately, it never seems to land in the same spot.

The agony of loss has no limits—it’s endless. But it can still teach us a valuable lesson. This is what it has taught me: there are no guarantees in life, you may never heal, life is never what you expect, things are not always fair. Even though these realizations may seem morbid, they have changed how I view my life. They have taught me that, no matter how much it hurts, loss is inevitable.


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Love, the unconditional kind

The day I got married, I took a vow that went something like this : “I, Aubrey, take you, Jonathan, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.” These vows are spoken every day; they are also broken every day. But unspoken vows can be more important than uttered promises.

The love I have for my husband is not the same adoration I have for my family. Marital love is based on conditions. If your spouse cheats on you, abuses you, steals from you, lies to you, or ends up in prison, it usually affects how you feel about him or her. This can lead to divorce court or embarrassing yourself on Judge Judy.

That’s not the love most family members have for each other. I feel differently about my children than I do about my mate. If my children cheated, stole, lied, or ended up in prison, my love would not change. I might be embarrassed by their choices, but I would still love them as much as I did yesterday. This is the absolute love that you share with your flesh and blood. It’s not one many people talk about, but it is one I have seen displayed over and over again.

My parents demonstrated this hopeful love with all three of their children. They believed in us, they wanted the best for us, and they recognized hidden greatness, even if it might not have existed. I am pretty sure my parents did not make this vow the day I was born: “I take thee, little baby Aubrey, to be my family, in absolute love, unconditionally. For dumber or smarter, in bad choices or good. Through jail time, addictions, evictions, even when you’re misunderstood. I will hope for the best, with no expectations, and will hold your hand through all your afflictions.” They may never have uttered those words, but I have seen them in action, and it gives me confidence that, no matter what poor or wise decisions I make, whether or not they express it in words, my family will always be there with open arms to show me love—the unconditional kind.