Can’t Blame Myself

I’m the poster child for thinking of ways to blame myself when something “goes wrong” with my kids…if they acted irresponsibly, after they said something disrespectful, or best yet, when they got a mental health diagnosis.

After the discovery of clinical OCD, general anxiety disorder, a math disorder, and ADHD in my daughter, I did a complete autopsy on the minutia of our lives since she was born to try and figure out what I did wrong, how I messed her up, what I could’ve done better or different.

The answer was…nothing. I did nothing.

She has had no major traumas. I’m married to my best friend. I breastfed exclusively. She took naps. I taught her to read at 4 years old. We had big birthday parties. She sat in our laps and got ALL the love we could give. She has friends. We traveled, camped, Christmased.

You know…our kids are their own person. Unless we’ve really been crap parents who truly did terrible things to affect our kids’ health and mental well-being, their brains formed on their own. They are fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14). Each has a purpose, a beauty, a precious soul with so much to offer the world.

They are not broken. We didn’t mess them up.

My children have “stuff”, and it’s my PRIVILEGE to be the one to help them through it all. I hate to watch them struggle, but I GET to watch them grow. It kills me to hear they are plagued by absolutely anything, but I LONG to love them through it and be a warrior for them when they suffer.

Then the best part…they’re GREAT people. They are smart and kind, generous and empathetic, loving and helpful. I did it! WE did it! We were the right kind of parents, and we raised them right.

I’m proud. They’re my greatest contribution.

Thank you to Raise Her Wild with Mehr Lee for this inspiration this morning.

Published by Amanda Herring, Writer

Practical wisdom, joys and pains, motivation and tough love, from the perspective of a Mississippi mom, traveler, business owner, goal crusher, substance seeker, and full-time dreamer

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