Consider This

As a young adult, I was frequently afraid to voice my opinions especially if they differed from the opinions of others. Those who know me now would not assume I would be afraid to state my point of view at all and yet, that is one of the things I struggled with for a long time. I have had to give myself permission to be different and separate than everyone else.

As I pondered why I lived with such fear, several things came to mind.

My parents were fearful that I would make mistakes. They did everything they could to ensure that I made “right” decisions. They settled on what they determined to be right based on their observations of how society functioned, and on what the Bible said.

My parents put rules and regulations into effect and made sure I knew what they expected of me. I was expected to follow their instructions to the letter under threat of punishment, which at that time meant corporal punishment. The only privilege they could take away from me was going to church and continuing to be involved in the youth choir. They did not really want to take this away and I was so focused on doing well in school, that I did not watch TV or do much of anything else.

Both my parents worked outside the home. We lived in NYC, in a district where many of the girls got pregnant before graduation from high school. My parents did not believe they could take the chance of allowing me to discover, through natural consequences, what was right and what was wrong.

Social, academic, and moral failure in our community was also associated with shame. So my parents did everything they could, to avoid the shame that was sure to be a part of our lives if I was left to follow the natural path of the kids in our neighborhood. They (unbeknownst to me) partnered with the neighbor across the street from us. They would watch out for her daughter when her mother was not around and her mother would watch out for me when my parents were not around.

When I turned 13 years of age, I began to sneak some of my friends into the house to party and dance when my parents were at work. They knew what was happening because our neighbor told them, I’m sure. They tried to catch me in the act. Once my mother came home earlier than expected. But I had lookouts and as soon as someone spotted either of my parents getting off the bus, he or she would sound the alarm, and I would sneak the kids out the back door. I was never “caught.” However, my mother shrewdly decided that because she could not control me as well she had done before, they would become foster parents. That enabled my mother to be home the entire time so she could keep a very close eye on me. I attended school quite a distance from our neighborhood, but my parents knew how long it would take me to get home after school and two bus rides.

Growing up I saw the results of the choices of many of my friends. I witnessed the hardship their families went through as the kids’ bad choices dashed their hopes and dreams. I also had the fortune to care for many children whose parents made bad decisions. Our family even cared for two of the babies of the girls in our neighborhood when my mother became their day care provider. I witnessed how the fathers of these babies, who were so “in love” with their mothers before, talked about them as if they were dogs when they “got themselves pregnant.” I witnessed how these girls stopped their educational pursuits because now they needed to work in order to feed and care for another person in their family. I also saw how unappealing they became to other eligible young men because they had a child.

I heard the arguments that ensued in the families when the girls who wanted to go out and party asked their mothers to watch the babies for them. Their mothers shamed them by mentioning how they “should have thought about this before” and refused to watch the babies.

While I helped my mother with the children she cared for, I had the opportunity to experience how difficult it was to care for a baby who would not be comforted. I learned how to rock a baby with one hand while I read my homework assignment. I learned to empathize with the plights of these single mothers. But I also breathed a sigh of relief and was happy when the children we cared for were picked up at 5:00 PM. I looked forward to the customary peace and quiet we had in our own home once more.

At first I thought my parents raised me perfectly. I initially thought that I would raise my children the same way. But as I matured away from home, I realized I had significant handicaps.

The greatest one was fear. I was afraid to make mistakes. I was afraid to fail. I was afraid to take risks. I did everything I could to obey all the rules because I believed that keeping the rules would keep me safe. Although I did not do anything to be ashamed of, I was filled with shame. If I made a mistake, or did not get an A, the emotion I felt was not disappointment or guilt for not studying as hard as I could. The predominant emotion I experienced was shame. I believed I had to be perfect and that I was worthless or inadequate and unacceptable unless I did everything impeccably. I learned over the years that it was the fear of shame that kept me from making poor decisions. But shame is a poor motivator. The emotion of fear gave me incentive to avoid certain things, actions, and people—it did not give me something to shoot for. It did not tell me what I could achieve. It did not allow me to see the uniqueness of my gifts nor how these abilities could enhance the culture in which I was deposited. Not only that but because I was so filled with shame, I felt it was essential that I had the approval of others—a dangerous mixture of ingredients.

My parents did what they had to do given our circumstances. Everything that happened to me was neither right nor wrong; it was simply what was necessary for me at that time and in that situation.

I am extremely grateful for my parents’ protection. I avoided a lot of heart aches because of what they did for me. In the past, at some level, I chose to accept the fear and the shame of my culture, and I chose to believe what my parents taught me. But I had to grow up.

I slowly began to understand that everything comes with a price tag. I was not free as a child to discover who I was. I was not free to make mistakes and learn from them. I learned what NOT to do. I learned how to avoid trouble, which was good. What I did not learn until much later in life was how to take healthy risks to get what I desired.

Today, as I interact with many parents and their children I identify the same fear of failure. When I ask a general question to children during their routine examination, many are reluctant to give me an answer. They search my face as if they are trying to figure out what I want them to say. Even when I tell them that there is no right or wrong answer, that I am simply asking them to answer the question for themselves, many are hesitant to do so. I have even had children start to cry because they got so upset and nervous. I remember one child looked at his mother with tears in his eyes until she reassured him that he had answered correctly.

The truth is there is no shame in making mistakes. Making a mistake does not make us unacceptable or objectionable. Making mistakes or giving the “wrong” answer is not bad. Failing is not bad. These things are only strides in the process of learning. Taking risks (risk of being wrong, or appearing foolish, or failing) is a necessary part of the evolution of wisdom, knowledge, and growth.

It is true that some mistakes are deadly and some mistakes change our lives and the lives of others forever. These blunders are ones we hopefully will be able to avoid as we are allowed to face the natural consequences of decisions that don’t cost as much. As we learn to trust the wisdom of those with whom we are in relationship—those who love us, accept us, and who are not afraid to let us fall down once in awhile, we learn how to make better decisions in a safe environment.

We cannot continue to walk in shame and fear and accomplish our objectives in life. Not only that, but if we don’t deal with our own fears and shame, we will naturally pass them on to our children. They will feel our panic and anxiety, no matter how much we try to hide it from them. They will perceive (consciously or subconsciously) that we do not trust them to think and make decisions on their own. They will assess that failing is the most horrific thing that could happen and therefore will either make very cautious, low risk decisions in the future, or they may rebel and become unapproachable and irresponsible.

We must walk in freedom, recognizing that there is no shame in making a mistake. Even God expects us to fall down every now and then. His only command is for us to get back up. (“For though a righteous man falls seven times, he rises again.” Proverbs 24:16) When we go to Him clearly guilty, He does not criticize us nor does He disapprove of us. “There is now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 8:1) When we admit we have done something wrong, He says, “I forgive you.” (1 John 1:9). So accept His forgiveness, learn to forgive yourself, brush off the shame, and start over again, confident that you have now learned another very important life lesson. And then learn to extend the same grace to your children.

Copyright © 2010 by Sharon Collins

This entry was posted on Sunday, April 11th, 2010 at 3:55 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.