Home Between the Margins with Jacquel Ward Parenting. More than a Shoulder.

Parenting. More than a Shoulder.

Separation Angst

    Life tunnels through the darkness towards the light as the pressure builds. The warmth of the abyss opens up, letting in a draft. Cool air awakens a slumbering soul, while the blinding lights distort reality. The pulsating pressure pushes forward. Finally, life has arrived. With wiggling toes, curious fingers, and a sensitive nose, the world awaits this beauty to grow. The parents smile, enamored by their creation, and their reflection. The weight upon their shoulders is precisely seven pounds and 13 ounces. A whole new world awaits their guidance. The rush of emotion fills the room, and the most joyful sound sets the ambiance. Innocent cries, and screams of hunger, then suddenly silence.

Mom lies worn out from the battle of her life, and dad is proud. What’s next fills the pupils of both first-time parents. Afraid of what’s to come, they embrace each other in love and harmony. The fairy tale ends there, doesn’t it?

  Mom and dad have little to no money, and their communication skills are rudimentary. The joy slowly turns to resentment and regret. The baby is now an anchor and not an inspiration. What do we do? A simple question fogs the daily chores, clouding the vision of a once love-filled room. Dad stays at work longer, and mom just doesn’t cook as much anymore. Neither is getting rest and both of their minds no longer seem clear. The constant cries for hunger echo, agitating the tension. The sound that once brought smiles and laughter is met with sighs. Relief from the burden seems impossible.

No one ever explained the depth of the parental struggle to mom or dad, so they have to figure it out. There were stories of sleepless nights, and the bundle of joy would bring happiness to the household. No one ever talked about the loss of affection between mom and dad. Lost, and dazed, both parents drift further and further from each other.  Outside influences tell mom that dad is no good. The lack of appreciation builds. The peanut gallery continues to whisper in dad’s ear that mom is lazy. A world built to shelter their creation shatters. Dad moves out, mom cries, and the baby is confused. Days pass quickly, and mom loses all sense of time, sleeping two hours a day. Months go by, and dad only visits the precious gift on weekends.

The vulnerable child grows with no expectation of civility. The concept of causal conversation dies with every loud dispute mom may have. Self-doubt settles in the mind, as the dad takes the child to the park and barely smiles.  

 Who is to blame? Mom blames dad, and dad blames mom. Who wins?

Stability exists only in the foundation built by the parents. The child grows to find the darkness of its heart a lot sooner than the parents would like. Crafting deceitful intentions, the child loses respect for parental authority. Engaging in careless activities to fill a void no one knew was blossoming beneath the soil, the child craves negative attention. The child begins reflecting the darkness of the parent’s ego.

  The complaints build in school, while the frustration is tossed back and forth between parents. The sunny disposition now cowers in the corner of their minds. The financial burdens of raising children increase every year. 

 The coldness of a broken heart gradually covers the ambition of the child. Their peers inject distorted truths and charismatic influence leading the child to destruction. Soon the world is but a gauntlet of devastation. Financial insecurities eat at self-esteem as the wants and desires go unmet. Dad is too far for the child to rest his worries, and mom is too involved to be objective. Sabotaged by the pressures mounting daily, no advice seems to help. Eventually, the child moves to their dad’s house for some attitude adjustments.

 New habits and routines shake up a world crumbling slowly. The oceans are raging with emotion and the earth tremors from the discontent. Words soon are but excuses to yell. The bright light now is dimmed by the jaded reality. Soon, all the hopes and dreams whither away like the tulips in the garden. The once-loving bond has eroded under the winds of struggle. 

Life has become desolate. There are no more lush green gardens teeming with life. The rivers of passion have long dried out. 

 What’s next? 

A familiar whisper blossom’s in their heart. The innocence is destroyed by the jagged realms they travel through. Clutching onto memories long gone is their only solace. Mom is weary, and dad is exhausted. The child feels defeated by unspoken disappointments and suffers heartbreak like shattered glass. 

 Who should step up?

Looking into the heart of the matter, both decide to cast away their failed ideals. They begin to bury their contempt for each other to love the child. A flower rejuvenated by the comings rains. 

Empathic words travel to the end of the galaxy mending burnt bridges. The structure is rebuilt with recycled materials. Asymmetrically, nothing fits according to the planned layout. And still, the foundation is more solid than ever. Mom has found a path to peace with dad. Dad has found a way to forgive mom. The child relishes the idea. Separate yet equal, two different people with the same goal. One child with two pillars to rest their worries on only strengthens their self-belief. 

Soon the fork in the road will come into view, choices will be made. Oppositional and hypocritical responses only feed the monster plaguing the black community.

    Having a limited time here on earth to pour into your children, don’t let the failed state of a relationship hinder the needs of your creation. Not all situations end like a fairy tale. Don’t place the expectation on your shoulders to have all the answers. Don’t run from the inevitable human nature to be fallible. 

    Mom, it’s okay to be vulnerable. Dad, it’s okay to be scared. The precious gift bestowed upon you will test your boundaries. The limits you’ll have to travel will seem endless. Only with the sweat from your brow will you endure the hardships. Only after the tears roll down your cheek can you embrace wholeheartedly. Beaten, bruised, and forgotten, only can you look inward for how to move forward.

 Be as strong as you can be. You’re more than a shoulder to your children.  Stand as firm as you can. You’re more than a dollar to your children. Splits homes are an epidemic in our community, let’s not add to it by creating children who feel unloved! 

 From separated houses let us fight to be visible and vocal, and most of all let us be loving. 

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I was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. Growing up in an era(the 1980s) where families and communities suffered many tragedies and traumas, I was no exception. The path many children took involved dangerous outcomes and possible life-threatening decisions. At a young age, I could adapt which allowed me to avoid pitfalls early. However, as we grow, life can be a bit daunting and overwhelm anyone. Facing many challenges, I attended the public school system where I was introduced to my first piece of creativity. “Goodnight Moon,” a book that allowed young people to feel the warmth of saying goodnight. Upon reaching high school I began to explore the many different forms of creativity from music, art, and creative writing. This would consume me over the next two decades. From making beats to writing stories, I felt a strong desire to craft material which inspired young people. As a father and husband, though struggles persist, the lessons learned have allowed me to share through my creative literary works continually. Life isn't a destination along a path, life is the path

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