The cats in the cradle and the silver spoon
little boy blue and the man in the moon is the link to the lyrics, but I am going to post them at the end here as well in case that isn't clear. Never mind that Cat Stevens now goes by Yusaf Islam, I am just going to stick with the lyrics regardless of the present religious orientation of the author. Actually - upon further research - apparently Cat Stevens sang it, but Harry Chapin is the artist who actually wrote it. Oh well - getting carried away in technicalities now, but I heard it yesterday on the way back from a birthday party on the classic rock station. I had heard it before, but this was the first time I really listened to the words - and they are pretty intense. It is a song that registers loudly to Victoria, whose own father was not present mainly due to his alcoholism, but also registers loud and clear with me since my own father was caught up in his work, but never really knew how to be present for us due to his own childhood demons and orphanage at an early age. It is pointed out to me - somewhat excessively - that I seem to be following in his footsteps - and if that is the case - than I can look forward to my daughter writing about me in her blog some day, and sitting in a therapist chair in vivid detail talking about me the way I discuss my parents in therapy. All I can say to that is - it is harder than anything I have done to actually try to be a present parent for somebody - not only with a demanding job, but all of my personality issues as well. I do my best. Probably what my parents can say to me as well - they tried - and knowing what I know of them now, how could it really have been any different than what it was. Really I cannot turn back the clock or make it be different. My problem now is that I would like to at least acknowledge it for what it was, rather than sugar coat it and act like my childhood and upbringing was perfect, and that my inability to live up to unrealistic parental expectations of my present life is all on me and not on them - because that type of blaming denial is pretty hard to deal with in my present life. Hence the present gap that now stands - and it would not surprise me if I have seen them for the last time.
When I step into a therapist chair for the first time - it is too bad I cannot just save that session for future reference and play it back on a tape, but the question always comes up - "is there any mental illness in your family?". My answer - time and time again - is yes - there is. On my father's side, the information I have is limited - other than that my father was orphaned at an early age and grew up in poverty. No - I would not want to trade places and have lived his childhood as he once presented that question to me, but that does not take away from my own hell I experienced while growing up in my house. It may have been a more comfortable hell, and a more provided for hell - but hell is hell no matter what shape it presents itself in. However - getting back to family history - there are documented instances of it on my mother's side of the family, and the "borderline" post I mentioned seemed to be a pretty good way of summing up the personality disorder of my primary caregiver. Apparently Joan Crawford was the same type of parent, summed up in Mommie Dearest - the movie. It was pointed out that it leaves a lasting impression on the children who are raised by someone with this, and it is very difficult on these children. Yeah - I agree - it was, and it has done that. So forget the somewhat ludicrous notion that it is all genetics and upbringing has nothing to do with it - upbringing does matter, and it explains my present personality disorders and issues that I face to this day. I don't sit there in a state of possessed rage and hate my parents any more - the way I once did, but I see it for what it is and when I am expected to act like everything is wonderful and it never happened, that is asking too much of me. On the 50th anniversary gathering, some people in the family - possibly with good intentions - presented a very rosy video of the family situation that reminds me now of some of those old Russian propaganda movies under Stalin that tried to convince people of how wonderful their society was. Clearly underneath the rosy presentation something very dark and ominous was lurking, and I had quite a hard time sleeping after seeing this video. That method of dealing with things has never worked for me. No matter how much you want to lie to yourself and think it really was that wonderful way, the inner truth is always poking out like some volcano waiting to erupt.
The reality was - my father - like the song says, was not there most of the time, and left me in the hands of my mother - who often was not of sound and fit mind to be a parent. My brother Phil often played the father role of taking me to baseball games - because my father did not have the time. Once he gave me an electronic baseball game as a substitute for having to take me. Yes - there were times he tossed a baseball in my direction at a schoolyard, but my main memory of him is that he was not there most of the time. My mother's parenting behavior was a world of positive and negative extremes. I know because I witnessed it, and I will never forget it - because I cannot forget it. It explains who I am and affects my parenting abilities as well. There were times when I thought I could forgive it - and maybe I can, but unfortunately the present meddling in my marriage and attacks on my wife made that pretty difficult to have any type of ongoing relationship now. It is one thing to forgive the past, it is another to deal with a situation that is making your present life just as miserable as your past one was. My past may be screwed up, and there is nothing I can do about it. My present situation may be a hell of a challenge, but I would like to believe there is something I can do about that. It may feel like running with a 100 pound weight on my back , but it can be done. But the reason it was difficult for me, and shaped some major complexes in my regards to my feelings toward females, is that it was hard to not know what to expect. You do not know if you are going to be loved one day, and hated the next - or know if you will be hugged or screamed at, or know if you will be safe or wanting to run and hide in a closet somewhere out of fear. That sense of security was not there as a child and often I find myself reliving it now without even trying. We really are the perfect set up here in this house - I retreat into distance as my coping mechanism, Victoria relives the distance of her own father who could not be there for her when she sees that distance expressed toward me and my daughter, than she responds with anger to me, and then I experience the all familiar and to some degree comfortable rejection that I have known all my life. The extremes of rejection and love take the female forms of an all loving angel and an all evil witch, and I seem to go back and forth between those two extremes - ever since I was 13 years old and drawn to females on a physical, emotional and even archetypal realm (to go somewhat Jungian on your ass there).
So here is the million dollar question - how do you break the cycle? I know how you stay in it - you avoid it, deny it, do not look at it, and then blame everyone and everything around you for your current circumstances. That is a cycle of ignorance, and is passed on from generation to generation. The Buddhists say we are here to break the re-incarnation cycle and that happens with a life time of dedicated awareness and meditation. That has been my task in life - to try to become as aware as I can - and a lifetime of therapists, reading and introspection has accomplished that somewhat. And yet - even with some awareness, the torch is carried, and the pattern continues - and as the song line says below "my boy was just like me". Is that 100% true - well no. I know for a fact - no matter what those caught up in their complexes may think or say - that I am there more for my daughter than my Dad was for me. I am closer to her than he was to me. It does not take away the distance or room for improvement, or the fact that when I am falling into a dark hole the way I was last night after hearing the song on the radio, that there are times when you get hit upon, try hard but you cannot give - because when that happens, I am just trying to survive the emotional assault/storm I am being hit with and can be there for no one but myself. But there has been some improvement and I know that. I have to tell myself that because others are limited in their capacity to see it due to their own complexes and want to paint me into that corner I was once painted into when I was young. I have to fight that. I have to fight for every scrap of self confidence and self love that I need to survive, because the tendency to internalize those past voices of hatred is always with me. It is an ongoing battle. It may be why I will never permanently graduate from a therapist's chair - there is always another refresher course to take, even if I know a lot of the subject already.
There ain't no cure for suicide - Nevada is one of the leading states of it in terms of occurrence and the article I read here recently in the Reno Gazette Journal - or one of the associated ones, said that one of the parent survivors made a pact to never do what her child did, as tempting as that appeared to be. As someone who has had recurring thoughts of it during a depression, and once went through the motions of an attempt, I am not going to sit here and say those thoughts never come back to me - because they still do. I just know that I belong here, that others need me, that what I view as some kind of higher power - my concept of God - tells me that as much as I feel the possessed self-hatred at times, the self-hatred that plants those thoughts in my mind, the thoughts that tell me I am no good, I don't belong here, that life is too good for me and that I would be better off in a grave with a hole in my head (one of the many reasons I will never for any reason every purchase or own a fire-arm of any kind) - - - that I have to fight those thoughts, and dig deep into my faith that has gotten me as far as I have. It has been nothing but a miracle that I have pulled out of my depressive state of 20 years ago and arrived at what I am. That depression still pulls at me though. For those of you there who are upset that you cannot keep up with the Jones's next door and brag that your son is a high earning prestigious attorney or doctor - to compensate for your own low self-esteem, you should be thankful that I am alive, that I am functioning, that I am somewhat self sufficient. It is a miracle that I am functioning - even if it often feels like I am running on a broken leg. Other alternatives could have happened - to me and to every other sibling in my family , and have happened to those less fortunate - drug addiction, death, imprisonment, institutions - have not happened - or at least - are not happening now. By the grace of God - so to speak - I am here and doing pretty well under the circumstances. I can't lie to you and say it is easy, because often it is very difficult. But somehow the knowledge that I have made it this far remains - I have survived, and I WIll SURVIVE.
Kind of a rant and rave here, but the challenge for me - in short - is to try to perservere when life seems overwhelming and depressing, to believe in myself when others around me don't, and to try to be there as much as I can for myself, and for the ones I love in a world where forces I can't often control - work, my emotions, my past, my demons - pull me the other way. And quite frankly when you look at the big picture - as I often do - I AM DOING A PRETTY FUCKING GOOD JOB OF IT!!
Here is the song by Chapin:
A child arrived just the other day
Came to the world in the usual way
But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay
He learned to walk while I was away
He was talking before I knew It
And as he grew
He said, "Im gonna be like you, Dad you know Im gonna be like
you"
(chorus)
And the cats in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
When you comin home son I dont know when, We'll get together
then
You know we'll have a good time then.
My son turned ten just the other day
He said "thanks for the ball dad, come on lets play
can you teach me to throw?"
I said "Not today, Ive got alot to do"
He said "Thats okay"
He walked away and he smiled and he said
"you know Im gonna be like you, dad
you know Im gonna be like you......"
(chorus)
He came from college just the other day
So much like a man I just had to say
"Son Im proud of you, can you sit for a while?"
He shook his head, and he said with a smile
"What Im feeling like dad, is to borrow the car keys
See you later, can I have them please?"
(chorus)
Ive long since retired, my son has moved away
I called him up just the other day
I said "Id like to see you if you dont mind"
He said "Id love to dad If I could find the time.
You see my new jobs a hassle, and the kids have the flu.
But Its sure nice talking to you, dad, Its been sure nice
talking to you........"
And as he hung up the phone It had occured to me
He'd grown up just like me, my boy, was just like
me..............
(chorus)
When I step into a therapist chair for the first time - it is too bad I cannot just save that session for future reference and play it back on a tape, but the question always comes up - "is there any mental illness in your family?". My answer - time and time again - is yes - there is. On my father's side, the information I have is limited - other than that my father was orphaned at an early age and grew up in poverty. No - I would not want to trade places and have lived his childhood as he once presented that question to me, but that does not take away from my own hell I experienced while growing up in my house. It may have been a more comfortable hell, and a more provided for hell - but hell is hell no matter what shape it presents itself in. However - getting back to family history - there are documented instances of it on my mother's side of the family, and the "borderline" post I mentioned seemed to be a pretty good way of summing up the personality disorder of my primary caregiver. Apparently Joan Crawford was the same type of parent, summed up in Mommie Dearest - the movie. It was pointed out that it leaves a lasting impression on the children who are raised by someone with this, and it is very difficult on these children. Yeah - I agree - it was, and it has done that. So forget the somewhat ludicrous notion that it is all genetics and upbringing has nothing to do with it - upbringing does matter, and it explains my present personality disorders and issues that I face to this day. I don't sit there in a state of possessed rage and hate my parents any more - the way I once did, but I see it for what it is and when I am expected to act like everything is wonderful and it never happened, that is asking too much of me. On the 50th anniversary gathering, some people in the family - possibly with good intentions - presented a very rosy video of the family situation that reminds me now of some of those old Russian propaganda movies under Stalin that tried to convince people of how wonderful their society was. Clearly underneath the rosy presentation something very dark and ominous was lurking, and I had quite a hard time sleeping after seeing this video. That method of dealing with things has never worked for me. No matter how much you want to lie to yourself and think it really was that wonderful way, the inner truth is always poking out like some volcano waiting to erupt.
The reality was - my father - like the song says, was not there most of the time, and left me in the hands of my mother - who often was not of sound and fit mind to be a parent. My brother Phil often played the father role of taking me to baseball games - because my father did not have the time. Once he gave me an electronic baseball game as a substitute for having to take me. Yes - there were times he tossed a baseball in my direction at a schoolyard, but my main memory of him is that he was not there most of the time. My mother's parenting behavior was a world of positive and negative extremes. I know because I witnessed it, and I will never forget it - because I cannot forget it. It explains who I am and affects my parenting abilities as well. There were times when I thought I could forgive it - and maybe I can, but unfortunately the present meddling in my marriage and attacks on my wife made that pretty difficult to have any type of ongoing relationship now. It is one thing to forgive the past, it is another to deal with a situation that is making your present life just as miserable as your past one was. My past may be screwed up, and there is nothing I can do about it. My present situation may be a hell of a challenge, but I would like to believe there is something I can do about that. It may feel like running with a 100 pound weight on my back , but it can be done. But the reason it was difficult for me, and shaped some major complexes in my regards to my feelings toward females, is that it was hard to not know what to expect. You do not know if you are going to be loved one day, and hated the next - or know if you will be hugged or screamed at, or know if you will be safe or wanting to run and hide in a closet somewhere out of fear. That sense of security was not there as a child and often I find myself reliving it now without even trying. We really are the perfect set up here in this house - I retreat into distance as my coping mechanism, Victoria relives the distance of her own father who could not be there for her when she sees that distance expressed toward me and my daughter, than she responds with anger to me, and then I experience the all familiar and to some degree comfortable rejection that I have known all my life. The extremes of rejection and love take the female forms of an all loving angel and an all evil witch, and I seem to go back and forth between those two extremes - ever since I was 13 years old and drawn to females on a physical, emotional and even archetypal realm (to go somewhat Jungian on your ass there).
So here is the million dollar question - how do you break the cycle? I know how you stay in it - you avoid it, deny it, do not look at it, and then blame everyone and everything around you for your current circumstances. That is a cycle of ignorance, and is passed on from generation to generation. The Buddhists say we are here to break the re-incarnation cycle and that happens with a life time of dedicated awareness and meditation. That has been my task in life - to try to become as aware as I can - and a lifetime of therapists, reading and introspection has accomplished that somewhat. And yet - even with some awareness, the torch is carried, and the pattern continues - and as the song line says below "my boy was just like me". Is that 100% true - well no. I know for a fact - no matter what those caught up in their complexes may think or say - that I am there more for my daughter than my Dad was for me. I am closer to her than he was to me. It does not take away the distance or room for improvement, or the fact that when I am falling into a dark hole the way I was last night after hearing the song on the radio, that there are times when you get hit upon, try hard but you cannot give - because when that happens, I am just trying to survive the emotional assault/storm I am being hit with and can be there for no one but myself. But there has been some improvement and I know that. I have to tell myself that because others are limited in their capacity to see it due to their own complexes and want to paint me into that corner I was once painted into when I was young. I have to fight that. I have to fight for every scrap of self confidence and self love that I need to survive, because the tendency to internalize those past voices of hatred is always with me. It is an ongoing battle. It may be why I will never permanently graduate from a therapist's chair - there is always another refresher course to take, even if I know a lot of the subject already.
There ain't no cure for suicide - Nevada is one of the leading states of it in terms of occurrence and the article I read here recently in the Reno Gazette Journal - or one of the associated ones, said that one of the parent survivors made a pact to never do what her child did, as tempting as that appeared to be. As someone who has had recurring thoughts of it during a depression, and once went through the motions of an attempt, I am not going to sit here and say those thoughts never come back to me - because they still do. I just know that I belong here, that others need me, that what I view as some kind of higher power - my concept of God - tells me that as much as I feel the possessed self-hatred at times, the self-hatred that plants those thoughts in my mind, the thoughts that tell me I am no good, I don't belong here, that life is too good for me and that I would be better off in a grave with a hole in my head (one of the many reasons I will never for any reason every purchase or own a fire-arm of any kind) - - - that I have to fight those thoughts, and dig deep into my faith that has gotten me as far as I have. It has been nothing but a miracle that I have pulled out of my depressive state of 20 years ago and arrived at what I am. That depression still pulls at me though. For those of you there who are upset that you cannot keep up with the Jones's next door and brag that your son is a high earning prestigious attorney or doctor - to compensate for your own low self-esteem, you should be thankful that I am alive, that I am functioning, that I am somewhat self sufficient. It is a miracle that I am functioning - even if it often feels like I am running on a broken leg. Other alternatives could have happened - to me and to every other sibling in my family , and have happened to those less fortunate - drug addiction, death, imprisonment, institutions - have not happened - or at least - are not happening now. By the grace of God - so to speak - I am here and doing pretty well under the circumstances. I can't lie to you and say it is easy, because often it is very difficult. But somehow the knowledge that I have made it this far remains - I have survived, and I WIll SURVIVE.
Kind of a rant and rave here, but the challenge for me - in short - is to try to perservere when life seems overwhelming and depressing, to believe in myself when others around me don't, and to try to be there as much as I can for myself, and for the ones I love in a world where forces I can't often control - work, my emotions, my past, my demons - pull me the other way. And quite frankly when you look at the big picture - as I often do - I AM DOING A PRETTY FUCKING GOOD JOB OF IT!!
Here is the song by Chapin:
A child arrived just the other day
Came to the world in the usual way
But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay
He learned to walk while I was away
He was talking before I knew It
And as he grew
He said, "Im gonna be like you, Dad you know Im gonna be like
you"
(chorus)
And the cats in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
When you comin home son I dont know when, We'll get together
then
You know we'll have a good time then.
My son turned ten just the other day
He said "thanks for the ball dad, come on lets play
can you teach me to throw?"
I said "Not today, Ive got alot to do"
He said "Thats okay"
He walked away and he smiled and he said
"you know Im gonna be like you, dad
you know Im gonna be like you......"
(chorus)
He came from college just the other day
So much like a man I just had to say
"Son Im proud of you, can you sit for a while?"
He shook his head, and he said with a smile
"What Im feeling like dad, is to borrow the car keys
See you later, can I have them please?"
(chorus)
Ive long since retired, my son has moved away
I called him up just the other day
I said "Id like to see you if you dont mind"
He said "Id love to dad If I could find the time.
You see my new jobs a hassle, and the kids have the flu.
But Its sure nice talking to you, dad, Its been sure nice
talking to you........"
And as he hung up the phone It had occured to me
He'd grown up just like me, my boy, was just like
me..............
(chorus)
posted by Zook at 5:49 AM
1 Comments:
Very well said Vi - thanks!
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