Toughness: a Myth?
Me, personally, I think toughness is a myth. I do believe in courage under fire and I think people are capable of heroics. But toughness seems temporary and anyone that insists that toughness is possible more than 60% of the time and that toughness is a virtue seems delusional at best. Alpha males may be celebrated in business but I'll happily take a beta, thank you.
My ex, most definitely was an alpha. Is, I guess I should say, since he's still alive. But he damn well made sure everyone knew who he was when he entered the room and he worked very hard to ensure everyone would remember him. And he would sooner die than admit that he was afraid of anything. When 9/11 occurred and I expressed my fears, I was lectured for being afraid, for feeling like the world was falling apart and I was told that I wasn't being a good American, in expressing my fears.
When the sniper attacks occurred, my ex loved telling everyone that he wasn't afraid. No one in the DC area was afraid, despite the news to the contrary. The sniper attacks seemed worse in that people were killed right outside their homes, mowing lawns, pumping gas and shopping at Home Depot. I've never felt more vulnerable than during that time period. But, my ex thought anyone that was scared was reactive and less of a person. Shortly thereafter, I can't remember what it was, but something occurred where he actually broke down and cried in front of me. And after witnessing his repeated denials that he could be afraid, I honestly hated him the most in that moment.
My father is no better. I love my dad but he is a fragment of what he could be. He, too, clings to this misbegotten ideal of 'toughness.' He never showed me a lick of affection once I was older than 4. Younger than 4, you're still fun to play with, I guess. Older than 4 and I got to hear all the many things that were wrong with me. My existence meant my parents had less money to travel, less freedom to go out. How dare I complain when my sister bothered me. Lucky to have food on the table, blah, blah. But that doesn't really touch on the toughness issue, other than my dad wasn't a believer in showing affection. No, the toughness issue: my dad, like me ex, will never admit when something bothers him. I'm going on 37 years old and I still have no idea what trauma occurred in my dad's family that he and his siblings have a distant relationship. I get little bits and pieces here and there but that's about it. If anything displeases my dad, he won't talk about it. Just suck it up! Yeah, that's healthy.
So I'm less than enthused to hear my spouse's opinion of my child rearing: I'm making my son a wuss because I have the audacity to comfot him when he seeks comfort during the night. It takes less than 4 seconds: my son cracks the door, looking for me, I step out, put him back to bed with a kiss on the cheek and he's happy. If I'm worried, I'l check his temperature and make sure he'll fall back asleep without problem but during this time, he doesn't fuss. My son gets reassurance and I'm happy as a parent because it doesn't feel like my son is asking for much. But my spouse is insistent that I'm ruining him.
I love how people assume you're an idiot when you don't agree with them. I've read Brazelton [my favorite], Foster and Kline...I care about being an educated parent. But my spouse prefers to believe that I'm 'impressionable.' Based on my experience and what I've read, you can't be 'tough' or confident without a good, nurturing environment. Lecturing a kid when he's half asleep doesn't seem effective to me. But there you have it. My spouse is convinced I'm raising a wuss. Maybe I am. But denial of fear seems so pathetic. I guess I'll take my chances.
My ex, most definitely was an alpha. Is, I guess I should say, since he's still alive. But he damn well made sure everyone knew who he was when he entered the room and he worked very hard to ensure everyone would remember him. And he would sooner die than admit that he was afraid of anything. When 9/11 occurred and I expressed my fears, I was lectured for being afraid, for feeling like the world was falling apart and I was told that I wasn't being a good American, in expressing my fears.
When the sniper attacks occurred, my ex loved telling everyone that he wasn't afraid. No one in the DC area was afraid, despite the news to the contrary. The sniper attacks seemed worse in that people were killed right outside their homes, mowing lawns, pumping gas and shopping at Home Depot. I've never felt more vulnerable than during that time period. But, my ex thought anyone that was scared was reactive and less of a person. Shortly thereafter, I can't remember what it was, but something occurred where he actually broke down and cried in front of me. And after witnessing his repeated denials that he could be afraid, I honestly hated him the most in that moment.
My father is no better. I love my dad but he is a fragment of what he could be. He, too, clings to this misbegotten ideal of 'toughness.' He never showed me a lick of affection once I was older than 4. Younger than 4, you're still fun to play with, I guess. Older than 4 and I got to hear all the many things that were wrong with me. My existence meant my parents had less money to travel, less freedom to go out. How dare I complain when my sister bothered me. Lucky to have food on the table, blah, blah. But that doesn't really touch on the toughness issue, other than my dad wasn't a believer in showing affection. No, the toughness issue: my dad, like me ex, will never admit when something bothers him. I'm going on 37 years old and I still have no idea what trauma occurred in my dad's family that he and his siblings have a distant relationship. I get little bits and pieces here and there but that's about it. If anything displeases my dad, he won't talk about it. Just suck it up! Yeah, that's healthy.
So I'm less than enthused to hear my spouse's opinion of my child rearing: I'm making my son a wuss because I have the audacity to comfot him when he seeks comfort during the night. It takes less than 4 seconds: my son cracks the door, looking for me, I step out, put him back to bed with a kiss on the cheek and he's happy. If I'm worried, I'l check his temperature and make sure he'll fall back asleep without problem but during this time, he doesn't fuss. My son gets reassurance and I'm happy as a parent because it doesn't feel like my son is asking for much. But my spouse is insistent that I'm ruining him.
I love how people assume you're an idiot when you don't agree with them. I've read Brazelton [my favorite], Foster and Kline...I care about being an educated parent. But my spouse prefers to believe that I'm 'impressionable.' Based on my experience and what I've read, you can't be 'tough' or confident without a good, nurturing environment. Lecturing a kid when he's half asleep doesn't seem effective to me. But there you have it. My spouse is convinced I'm raising a wuss. Maybe I am. But denial of fear seems so pathetic. I guess I'll take my chances.
posted by Michelle at 11:32 PM
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