“For the longest time, I believed that growing up in communist Romania was a disadvantage.
I used to believe that the lack of emotional affection from my mother, along with the strictness of my communist upbringing, had dented my confidence and influenced how I viewed the world—particularly my relationships with others.
There were many unanswered questions about why events unfolded as they did. Unfortunately, through no fault of their own, my parents were unable to assist me much in finding those answers. For years, I was frustrated by their inability to help and astonished by how long it took me to discover some of those answers on my own.
Now that I am fifty, I am beginning to develop a new perspective on my childhood and how it has influenced me.
One of the most important lessons I’ve learned is to cut my parents some slack.
They did the best they could with the knowledge and resources they had. I admit, I could have used more help from them—more affection, more guidance, and perhaps more answers. However, at this point in my life, it is my responsibility to heal my childhood wounds, not theirs.
Blaming others for who I am today won’t make things better; quite the opposite. Blame keeps you stuck in the same place, waiting for someone else to fix something that is now your responsibility.
Forgiveness
I forgive them.
Fortunately, aside from having an emotionally unavailable mother—which, by the way, took a toll on me—I did not experience any other major traumatic events that shaped my childhood.
I forgive my parents both for what they did and for what they failed to do.
By forgiving them, I gave myself permission to move on.
At some point, you have to stop waiting for the people who hurt you, disappointed you, or simply didn’t know how to give you what you needed to return and make things right.
It becomes your responsibility.
It is my duty to fix what is broken, learn what I was never taught, and build the life I desire.
Last but not least, accept them—even if you cannot always love everything about them.
As we all grow older, I have learned to accept my parents for who they are. I accept their relationship of more than 55 years for what it is. Although I wish they had experienced a better relationship in certain ways and had that as an example, it is their relationship, not mine.
I am not trying to replicate it. In fact, I have made a conscious effort to avoid repeating some of the behaviors I observed while growing up.
Either way, I learned a lot from their relationship.
I accept that they are responsible for their own lives, just as I am responsible for mine. They must live with their choices, their regrets—if they have any—and the burdens they bear. I cannot carry those burdens for them, just as they cannot carry mine.
We are all human, and by nature, imperfect.
My relationship with my parents has had its ups and downs. However, as time goes by, I increasingly understand that my childhood may explain certain aspects of who I am, but it does not have to define me.
My parents gave me life. They gave me what they knew how to give. Some things were enough; others were not.
The rest is up to me.
At fifty, I no longer want to spend my energy blaming the past for the life I have today. Looking back with a new perspective, I have transformed my childhood experiences into assets rather than liabilities. I feel privileged to have lived the way I did and to have turned my alleged weaknesses, stemming from my childhood, into strengths.
I want to use my experiences to learn from them, forgive what needs to be forgiven, accept what cannot be changed, and take responsibility for what happens next.
Because, in the end, I don’t get to choose how I was raised.
But I do get to choose what I do with it.