Ya’ll can @ me all you want but I’m going to need grown people who share children to stop finger-pointing and soliciting public opinions about their baby-daddy-mama drama situations on social platforms. Please…for children’s sake! I’m sorry, but there’s only one side I’m standing on: THE CHILDREN’S! Adults, regardless of who did what, don’t get a sympathy card or pass from me. Everybody has a story to tell and people usually only tell one side of it.
When you grow up in the hood with as many uncles, aunties and cousins as I have, there’s not much left to the imagination when it comes to drama! Although we didn’t use the term “trap house” during my childhood days, I’m pretty certain my grandmother’s house would have qualified as one! LOL! Yaaaaaaaas!! There was always some shit popping off and I was THERE for it, HUNTY! That old, raggedy Northside St. Louis house with multiple levels of all sorts of crazy and wild activities is where I observed all kinds of male/female drama. YOU NAAAAAAAME IT!
Unlike my grandmother’s house, my mama didn’t entertain much company, so I saw very little adult male/female interaction. She didn’t have different men in and out of our house (as far as know…lol). Aside from the few male suitors who took us on mother-daughter dates, my dad was really our only male visitor. Due to my parents very brief marriage, I quickly became the child my dad would make hood visits to drop off “don’t put me on child support” money, or pick up to visit with his side of the family, along with his second wife and two children (they didn’t feel like my mother and sisters at the time).
Consequently, there weren’t many available opportunities to study my parents’ relationship. Their interaction was not so much dramatic as it was stoic. It was as though they both still had something they wanted to say to each other, but just had never made the time or put forth the effort to do so. Instead, they each lived their separate lives and maintained a strained relationship with me as their buffer. Similar to being stuck in the middle seat of an aircraft between two people who appear not to really like or care for each other, but no one knows the reason. Not a very comfortable or safe place to be, in the case of a flight emergency, is it?
And that leads me to repeat: STOP POINTING A FINGER! NO MATTER HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT EACH OTHER, YOUR CHILDREN NEED TO FEEL SAFE AND LOVED!!! Though as a child, I knew my parents loved me, I still for whatever reason, needed to know they had some sort of love, care or concern for each other. I don’t know. I guess I felt their feelings about each other was somehow a reflection of how they felt about me. How could they not feel some sort of way about me when I resembled the person who made them feel some sort of way? Unfortunately, their unresolved issues became my adult insecurities about how best to maintain a loving and trusting relationship. See how the cycle repeats itself? Fortunately, children are resilient, but why take that risk?