Inadequate

I’m feeling inadequate this morning because I wasn’t able to handle, or distract my mother last night. In the middle of stewing on how inadequate I feel, I recalled how inadequate my mother made me feel as a child, mostly in terms of academics.

  • “Your father is a calculus whiz! Why aren’t your math grades better?”  This sort of statement was flung my way for any grade that was below her bar, before and after my unique form of dyslexia was diagnosed. Rarely was support proactively offered in any subject that was challenging, or boring.
  • “Take all that stuff off your bed, so you can sleep in it rather than next to it!” We’re talking stuffed animals and pillows that I treasured. 
  • “You can’t eat blue cheese like it’s cheddar!!’ Um don’t scream at me for a transgression without  first telling me what the rules are.
  • “You need to lose 5 pounds!” This was said in the presence of her college roommate who flashed all 10 of her fingers at me, indicating she (the roommate) thought I should lose 10 pounds. I was 16 and had recently started taking the pill, unbeknownst to my mother. There I was being a responsible, sexually active 11th grader, and due to the medication’s proclivity to add a few pounds, I was catching shit from my mom, and her friend (WTF!) about my weight. 
I could continue with examples, but you get the point. The inadequacy I felt then, and now, are pretty much identical, leaving me wondering what sort of self-induced co-dependency I’m inflicting upon myself, and how to stop it. 

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