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Print Dear Gabby, I have a problem that I hope you can help me with. When I was very young, my parents separated, leaving me with my dad during the school year with the plan that I’d spend summers with my mom. They lived several states apart. Not one time during those growing-up years did my mom ever come to get me. She never called or sent a birthday or Christmas present. When I was in my mid-twenties, I met her for the first time. I had big hopes for that meeting but things didn’t go like I had always dreamed they would. I guess I wasn’t what she was expecting. There were no ill words between us or anything; we just didn’t click and I never heard from her again. I am now in my fifties and, one day last year, I bumped into her at a local store. (I didn’t even know she was living here in my home state.) Seeing her took me totally by surprise, but I let her know where I lived and gave her my phone number and told her to come see me some time. Well, that was several months ago and to this day she has not called or come by. This year on my birthday I thought, for some reason, that she’d call me. She didn’t and of course, I was devastated all over again. I really don’t know why this bothers me so much. When she lived in another state all those years and ignored me, it didn’t bother me as much. As a kid I always told myself she couldn’t afford to travel to where I was, didn’t have stamp money or a phone. Those excuses worked then, but now as an adult, knowing she’s just a few minutes away, it doesn’t work any more. I’m having a hard time dealing with this rejection and do not know how to handle it. I’m Holy Ghost filled, but I can’t seem to bring myself to talk to my pastor, and my husband just does not understand since he comes from a large loving family. Please, if you can help me to understand why this is bothering me so much and how to handle the rejection I feel, I would appreciate it. I value your opinions very much. Rejected in Rhode Island Dear Rejected, I have to admit to feeling very uncomfortable around Lucy Emberley, the beautiful blond-haired young woman who moved to our town with her family just a couple of years after my dear Harry and I got married. She sang lovely solos at our church and I heard that she had a wonderful sense of humor and an infectious laugh. But I never got very close to her because, well, she’d been in a car crash and was paralyzed and had to be pushed around in a wheelchair. (This was before the days of the fancy, self-propelled chairs.) There was no reason on earth why I should have felt the way I did, but the truth is I didn’t know what to say to her or whether to acknowledge or ignore her disability. So, I have to admit, when she was in the vicinity, I went a different direction. One time, I even crossed the street when I saw Lucy’s brother pushing her towards me on the walkway. I don’t know what it was about Lucy or her wheelchair - or, actually, anyone in a wheelchair - but I just felt intense discomfort (and guilt) about my reactions so I chose to ignore anyone who was “crippled” all through my life - until the summer I was 41 years old. What happened that summer? I broke my leg. My dear Harry and I were hiking in the mountains and, right in the middle of one of my grumpy harangues, I caught my foot in a root and went sprawling into the pathway, the sound of breaking bone ringing in my ears. That’s another story and I’ve told it before, but what followed, (once my dear Harry managed to get me down off the mountain,) was several months of recuperation, five weeks of which were spent in a wheelchair. Suddenly I was the one people shunned. I saw, very clearly, even from the lower level of my chair, the people crossing the street to avoid me when they glimpsed Harry pushing me on the walkway towards the restaurant or the General Store. I was the one people talked about—but never directly to. Suddenly, instead of being a full participant in life, I was just an observer and it was obvious that even my friends were uncomfortable around me. So how did that experience change me? Well, besides the fact that my leg still sends me reminder pains when the weather gets cold, I immediately began to notice the people in the chairs around me instead of just the chairs. While I was still in my own chair, I asked Harry to take me to visit Lucy Emberley (who’d gotten married to a lovely young man named Owen Kingsley and given birth to two darling children). Lucy laughed her musical laugh and forgave me when I apologized for my rude behavior of over 20 years. We later became dear friends. And now, living in a retirement community, I see people in wheelchairs every single day but I no longer notice the chairs because I’m busy noticing the people riding in them. Still, I’m sure you’re wondering how all this relates to you, Ms. Rejected. It’s just that, like Lucy, you’ve suffered a unique and paralyzing injury to your own life. Even though your injury doesn’t show on the outside like Lucy’s did, your childhood put an indelible mark on you that’ll always affect you. I have several things I want to say to you that I hope will be helpful: 1. Innocence - I discovered, once Lucy and I became friends, that she was a blameless passenger in the car wreck that ended up paralyzing her. Her family’s car was hit by a drunk driver. She had no control over what happened to her. She was a valuable person in the eyes of God both before and after she was hurt. You also are innocent. Your mother’s decisions have nothing to do with your value as a person. She chose the decisions she made. She was the adult; you were the child. In the same way that Lucy can’t be blamed for what happened to her, neither can you be blamed for what happened to you. Don’t accept the blame! 2. Expectations - The reason why you’re still feeling pain about your mother’s rejection is that you keep expecting her to be different. May I suggest that you stop expecting anything from her? If you don’t expect her to call, it won’t hurt as badly when the phone is silent. It also might help to realize that, like my feelings toward Lucy, your mother probably feels some guilt about how she treated you and because of that, she avoids you. 3. Universal pain - There’s pain everywhere. Suffering is an integral part of life. Each of us has some type of struggle. Some people suffer with health problems, some with family problems, some with finances, some with their jobs. If you can acknowledge that your version of human suffering is related to your childhood, it’ll be possible for you to move ahead with life and make something valuable with all the years you still have left. 4. Helping others - What I discovered, when I was in my own wheelchair, was that the only time I was happy was when I focused on others (and their pain) instead of my own. That was the choice I got to make and the choice you can make. To be truthful, focusing on someone else’s pain distracts you from your own. During the time you’re thinking of the other, you’re actually forgetting yourself. 5. Make a conscious effort to fight back - You can’t change your childhood. It’s over. You can’t change the actions of someone else. But, you can and should make a conscious decision to create the best future possible for yourself. How should you do that? Love your family and friends devotedly—in the way you’ve always wanted to be loved yourself. Develop a thankful heart for what you do have. Do you have your health? Thank God for that. You still have a husband. I no longer have one of those. Be thankful. You have a church and a pastor and a church family and your husband’s extended family. Those are all reasons to be thankful. Did you have the kind of mother you wanted? No. But you do have many blessings —including, I’m assuming, a father who was there for you even when your mother wasn’t. After her accident, my friend Lucy spent the rest of her life riding in a wheelchair. She had no choice about that. But she chose to be happy. That’s right. She chose it! She told me once that, just because the drunk driver took away her ability to walk, she didn’t want him to also take away her future happiness. Consider that attitude for your own life. Just because your mother made your childhood unhappy, doesn’t mean she gets to make the rest of your adulthood unhappy. That’s your choice, not hers! Sincerely Sincere, Gabby
ninetyandnine.com © 2005, ninetyandnine.com ---------- Gabrigail VanBurden has been offering advice for longer than most of you have been alive. Email your practical Apostolic life questions to Gabby@ninetyandnine.com and be prepared for some straight answers! |
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