Reflecting on a Childhood Memory: Please Don’t Yell at Me!

in Silver Bloggers3 years ago

It's funny what we remember and what we don’t.

Regardless, it seems like the bad/scary stuff sticks with us far longer than the good stuff.

0340-Leaf.JPG

Memory Triggers

I was looking at some photographs earlier from when I was maybe 8 or 9 and I had a moment of remembering how it felt to be 8 or 9... as the child of a pill popping functional alcoholic mother and a largely absent rageaholic father.

Let me back up for a moment.

Many years back I started writing a book about how our childhood environment tends to shape our adult choices. Nothing new I suppose... but this wasn't exactly a psychobabble book, more one intended to help people recognize the patterns and connections between ”then” and ”now,” which aren't always obvious... and yet? They often drive our lives.

Anyway, the point I wanted to make was that the working title of that book was ”Please Don't Yell At Me!

0441-Daisies.JPG

No, I never finished the book and it was never published. I may return to it someday, but at the moment I'm not feeling really compelled.

Anyway, after looking at the old photos... this memory of navigating a landscape that seemed to always revolve around ”avoiding the yelling” came flooding back to me when I was standing in the kitchen, a short while ago, pulling out plates and ingredients for this evening’s sandwiches.

Mrs. Denmarkguy is actually the ”Sandwich Queen” around here, so I was just doing this as a general ”nice thing” to have done for her when she finished her meditation.

So, I suddenly recalled how important it always was to completely double check and triple check everything I ever did, to make absolutely sure that there was absolutely nothing that the parents could want/need that I might have forgotten to pull out of a closet… or I might have gotten yelled at for being ”an idiot” or ”careless” or something else.

0195-Sunset.jpg

In truth, my 8 year old self intervened in trying to avoid a lot of yelling. It wasn't only navigating yelling at myself for my perceived shortcomings, it was also trying to navigate and prevent my dad from yelling at my mom because she had been sacked out on the couch all afternoon and didn't get anything done. Hence, it being me rather than an adult pulling everything out of the cabinets to get ready for dinner.

No, this is not intended as a ”wah-wah story,” but as a recognition of insight into the roots of my tendency to ”overprepare” as an adult, which actually has its roots not in being naturally anal retentive, but in those childhood years.

How do I know the difference? Because during the periods in my life where I have been living alone, I'm not really that much of a compulsive overpreparer and perfectionist. Those particular tendencies only surface when there are other people around. That tends to be a fairly solid indicator as to what is a natural trait, and what is learned behavior.

0380-PurplePoppy.JPG

Of course Mrs. Denmarkguy doesn’t yell at me or criticize me for failing to have everything she needs for sandwiches out and ready, and that's not the point here; this was merely a fragment of an old memory that surfaced. Still, I can see how my choices reflect an urge to "not be yelled at."

Sad, however, that there just seems to be certain things that we can't get away from — entirely — no matter how much we try!

Thanks for reading, and have a great rest of your week!

How about YOU? DO you recognize aspects of how you grew up in some of your adult behaviors? Are there clear and obvious connections? Or are those connections difficult to identify? Comments, feedback and other interaction is invited and welcomed! Because — after all — SOCIAL content is about interacting, right? Leave a comment — share your experiences — be part of the conversation!

HivePanda.gif


Greetings bloggers and social content creators! This article was created via PeakD, a blogging application that's part of the Hive Social Content Experience. If you're a blogger, writer, poet, artist, vlogger, musician or other creative content wizard, come join us! Hive is a little "different" because it's not run by a "company;" it operates via the consensus of its users and your content can't be banned, censored, taken down or demonetized. And that COUNTS for something, in these uncertain times! So if you're ready for the next generation of social content where YOU retain ownership and control, come by and learn about Hive and make an account!

(As usual, all text and images by the author, unless otherwise credited. This is original content, created expressly and uniquely for this platform — NOT cross posted anywhere else!)
Created at 20220224 00:32 PST

0509/1755

Sort:  

My father only had an 8th grade education, but when he finished that in 1925 he probably had a better education than most high school graduates have today. He continued to read hundreds of books, many of them difficult for most of us to understand, and thus continued his own education. But it always bothered him that he hadn't been able to go to high school and college. When I entered high school I know he was proud of me for going to high school, but at the same time he felt inferior because he hadn't. He would ask me "loaded questions" for which he had already decided the correct answer, and make sure I knew how foolish I was for not knowing the correct answer. I quickly learned to recognize and dodge those questions. Now, as an adult, I have been in some classes in which the teacher asks a question that might have more than one good answer, and I catch myself wondering which one he/she wants to hear.

one thing I remember when I was young was that my parents don't yell at us I guess its because we rarely see each other and they prefer a good bonding over yelling to their kids

I call it selective memory as things that do not interest me I just do not remember!

 3 years ago  

I do recognize aspects of how I grew up in some of my adult behavior? I am one of nine children and it is easy to get lost in a crowd. I found that good behavior was rewarded and in some ways, I became a people pleaser. I wanted to make people happy.

If only parents could see what they do and say have far-reaching effects on their children. I watch adults in the grocery store (where I come upon this behavior most frequently) and wonder why they can't talk nice, be kind, try a little patience and for God's sake, stop yelling at your children!

As always, you give me something to take away with me. Thanks!

That active recognition of habits inculcated by living with broken people might help us stop perpetuating the trauma. One of my parents was inclined toward anger. My undiagnosed chronic illness was also interpreted as "just being lazy." I also still feel resentment at only being thanked for doing anything because it "saved him some work," which felt like I was just considered a labor-saving device at best.