Just Kids, After all

We’re all just kids. Stuck in adult bodies. Unless we decide it’s okay to grow up.

Maybe our toxic parents were afraid to grow up. Or maybe their parents were just kids in adult bodies, too, so our parents never knew what real growing up was. Maybe their parents were abusive and messed your parents up. Maybe your parents had no clue and didn’t know they could get help for their generational toxicity. Maybe help wasn’t available. Maybe they did know, but refused help. Maybe by the time you came along it was too late for help.

We were at the mercy of those parental units with power over us; frankly, parents who were our unfortunate luck of the draw. Turns out, our parents were just kids too. Couldn’t grow up kind. Or unable to learn. Or too stigmatized to seek help for their condition. Certainly unable to parent us. Oh gawd, unable to parent us. Jailworthy criminals who should have never had custody of their children.

Some people can actually remember events in their lives from very early on. I am one of those weirdos who remembers her own birth. During birth I put up a fight. With an umbilical cord twisted tightly around my neck, I was backwards–upside down, too. I remember specifically not wanting the set of parents I got. I nearly died. But the doctor, who did not understand my intentions, was determined to save me. 

The way I see it is this: since we survived the torturous twists of our mother’s birth canal and took in a lung full of air at the end of it, then there must be a reason we’re actually supposed to be here. Maybe so we can support someone who's been deep in the trenches with mentally ill and/or deeply narcissistic parents and siblings. I say, let’s leave shame on the shelf and support each other. 

Survivors may spend countless hours analyzing their parents’ unfortunate childhoods, trying to figure out what exactly went wrong with them. Even if they could have repaired, they continued in their martyr role of making us responsible for their happiness. Impossible! We most likely are exhausted from trying to please the toxic network. Responsible, empathetic us, we tried to fix our parents’ unhappiness and now we are exhausted and need life support.

We could not fix them: we were children! 

When we finally awoke to the reality that we made no difference in the lives of our toxically disturbed or mentally ill parent(s), in order for ourselves to stay mentally healthy, we made the excruciating decision to leave them for good. Our awful decision wasn’t without devastating effect. 

But we are not alone in this. Many beautiful and brave souls belong to this distinct and special  group: adult children of mentally ill parents and or narcissistic parents. This is where Second Street comes in. This website is here for your support. Come, walk alongside me this privileged path which leads to a wider plane of acceptance. We’re just kids, after all. So let’s break the chain: let's set out to grow up together.