13 Reasons – My Parents

 

Help!
By: The Beatles

Help, I need somebody,
Help, not just anybody,
Help, you know I need someone, help.

When I was younger, so much younger than today,
I never needed anybody’s help in any way.
But now these days are gone, I’m not so self assured,
Now I find I’ve changed my mind and opened up the doors.

Help me if you can, I’m feeling down
And I do appreciate you being round.
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,
Won’t you please, please help me.

And now my life has changed in oh so many ways,
My independence seems to vanish in the haze.
But every now and then I feel so insecure,
I know that I just need you like I’ve never done before.

Help me if you can, I’m feeling down
And I do appreciate you being round.
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,
Won’t you please, please help me.

When I was younger, so much younger than today,
I never needed anybody’s help in any way.
But now these daya are gone, I’m not so self assured,
Now I find I’ve changed my mind and opened up the doors.

Help me if you can, I’m feeling down
And I do appreciate you being round.
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,
Won’t you please, please help me, help me, help me, ooooo. 

 

A lot of people complain about their parents, I’m aware.  I’ve done more than my share of complaining, I can say that much.  But things truly start with them.  I’ve wanted, my entire life, to be thin.  And I recall my mom always saying how much better I would look if I "just lost ten pounds."  Yet she never told me how to do it.  Especially when you’re a little kid, how can you do something when no one teaches you how?

She’d insist we were gonna start eating healthier, no more junk food, no more sodas, no more candy, chips, what-have-you.  A week later, something would go on sale, and because my mom’s a cheap person who can’t pass up a bargain, suddenly there would be three packages of Klondike bars in our freezer, or something similar.

When I was older and starting to go through that awful life phase known as ‘puberty,’ she would complain about how my skin looked.  She’d tell me my face was breaking out like crazy, why didn’t I go wash it, it looked terrible, my nose was so greasy, etc.

I took what turned out to be modeling courses when I was around thirteen or fourteen.  (I wanted to be an actress back then and I thought it was more acting oriented.  By the time I found out they weren’t, we couldn’t get a refund, so I went through the classes.)  Anyway, in one class, I remember the woman was talking about skin care.  She looked around at us and I was so scared she was going to single me out and tell everyone how horrible my face was, how bad it looked compared to the others there.  Because by that point, I was convinced, thanks to my mom, that I had the kind of broken out skin like the people do who have more zit on their face than face.  You know the kind, I’m sure.  Their skin’s all blotchy and it looks bumpy, almost?  Well, I was seriously afraid I had that kind of skin.  My perception in the mirror couldn’t be trusted.

Yet that woman didn’t single me out.  She looked over every single one of us and said that none of us there seemed to have really bad skin problems.

Since then, I’ve looked at pictures of myself from that period and realized how inaccurate my mom was in telling me how bad my skin looked.  It didn’t look bad.  It never did.  Sure, I had pimples, and yeah, they definitely came at inopportune times, but I was no worse off than the next person.

It’s because of them that I don’t have a strong sense of self-discipline, as well.  They never backed up threats they made to me and once I realized it, the threat of them taking something away or not letting me do something had virtually no effect on me.  Of course, there were times I had to miss out on something because they actually did follow through, but those times were so rare.

I do find it unfortunate that I turned out that way, though.  Without a good sense of self-discipline.  I’m trying to improve on it, because I’ve noticed it’s something that definitely holds me back.  I don’t accomplish as much as I could and probably should, had I grown up with that self-discipline.

But, they made it clear at the start of each school year that they didn’t believe I would do anything but screw up again.  Every year that I can recall, when school started, instead of cheering me on, telling me that it was a new year, a fresh start to do my absolute best and show them what I’m made of, you know what I’d hear?  Yeah, I’d hear the ‘new start’ bit, but then they’d go on and say how I shouldn’t screw it up the way I had the year before.  I shouldn’t start ignoring homework and not doing assignments the way I had previously.

There was always that comparison to previous years, previous assignments, and they made it perfectly clear in their speech and tone that they expected me to fail.

The kids who made fun of me over the years crushed my self-esteem.

But from the beginning, my parents taught me it should be low to begin with.

I wonder what might have been different about me, had I had supportive parents, who backed up my decisions and were actually on my side of things when situations got tough?