When Parents are not Role Models

As much as I love both of my parents, I don't like many things about them. They love me, but they're certainly not perfect human beings. Are your parents like mine?

My father is a womanizer, drinker, smoker and big spender. He left my mother under the cloak of looking for a better job faraway. As circumstances and past karma would have it, he married another woman and never returned to my mother as promised. I had two half siblings and a strained relationship with my father, as a result.

Did he lie and break his promise that he'd come back to my mother? Is it wrong? A retiree, he lives on a pension and gambles. When I was visiting him, he asked me to pay for all of his expenses during a trip. I myself live on an even smaller retiree income with two children to support. Putting the whole story in perspective, I see that there are many characters that play in this drama. No one is blameless. But no one is entirely guilty, either. Human beings are so complex. To say that someone is a bad person 100% or a pure angel, it's not realistic. For a long stretch of time, we act and are angelic despite the past action of hell raising by any name. We also reverse from being the most difficult person on earth to the nicest person with a big heart and gentle touch. We each even have both admirable personality and quirkiest manners -- all in one person.

Likewise, my mother is less of a role model to look up to. She uses tricks to get her ways. You can say that she's manipulative. She lies, too. Materialistic is her middle name. On the flip side of the same coin, she's considered hard working and ambitious. Another adjective to describe her is narrow minded. My ex-husband was literally kicked out of my life because she's racist who saw that someone with his humble background and the ethnic root was no match for her daughter. It was too late for me to get him back in my life and apologize to him on her behalf.

What did I learn from all of these? I always tell my kids that I'm not perfect and make mistakes, but my love to them is unconditional. No, I don't tell them about my shameful history which I have a library full of it. They in fact learn about what lessons come out of my wrongful actions and missteps. One time I turned on the wrong stove burner and burned the stove cover. So I told them about it and asked them to be mindful about which stove to light up so they wouldn't end up burning down the house. Another example was when I carelessly piled up heavy baking sheets, one of which slipped down from the stack and landed on my hand. Luckily, the casualty was one of my fingers that suffered a deep concussion. I lost the finger nail. (But do you know that nails really grow and replace dead nails? That's what happens to me; I have a new nail.) They know not to be so sloppy and careless.

To illustrate "do what I say, not what I do," means I have to act and speak the same way. To act one way but preach the other way is confusing.

I try to live my life to be a role model to my kids. My anger can unleash the most hateful facial expression and a couple of bad words. Nagging is my way of getting them to do things versus guiding them step-by-step and praising their progress. They observe though that I'm generally friendly and compassionate. The other day we stopped at a traffic light, I handed a small bill to a beggar. My kids were inside the car with me and witnessed what I had just done. The guy was a homeless person who would go to this particular place to gamble. Did I question my decision how my donation would be used? No. I did hope, however, that that very day he'd spend money buying a meal instead of placing a bet for a larger fortune. It's kinda like you can give them good food but cannot make them eat it.

There's no guarantee that the children will turn out the way I want and don't want. All I'm grateful for that they're smart, healthy, and energetic. Being in the moment means I enjoy their childlike and playful presence. Being optimistic about future means that I'm the one who have to shape the moldable clay. So one day they can see that their mother is a role model of humanity and compassion who practices spirituality and universal love.

When Friendship Expires

We live in a world that everything moves fast and furiously. Despite today's technology that enables all of us to stay current of what is going on 2,000 miles away or even helps friends whisper secrets in each other's ears across the continents, friendship doesn't survive without closeness, regular time spent together and help each other out, what we have in common and substance. Like anything else that grows and dies, we grow and grow apart before we die. Friendship is like that, too.

I now live in a town that is at least 500 miles from the closest person on my Facebook. A plan to see her and catch up with her two months ago didn't pan out. A majority of my FB friends focus on working as they're in their prime to make a living and good money. They also have children more or less my kids' ages. But they're not growing up and playing together. We adults live so far away from one another that helping hand is a concept, not an actual action. Even with giving money to support their cause (running, autism, authoring books, etc.), it is without physical human touch.

It all boils down to the fact that I'm a different person when I and about other 100 people became friends years ago. A daily yoga and writing now fill my day. My children take various lessons after their schools end. I'm their caretaker 24/7. They have different friends. Drinking, partying, and working don't interest me. I tend to keep to myself besides short conversations and pleasant greetings to people around me.

My life philosophy has shifted a great deal. Money, a nice car, a nice house, a good job and luxuries were constantly my life goal. Not anymore. As a result, I have no common interest with the people met thirty years ago. A couple of weeks ago I deleted my FB account. Only a handful of friends who have my e-mail address write regularly, and we exchange correspondence (versus forwarding chain letters -- which I hate). As much as I cherish the memories of good and bad times we had together, friendship has its own life cycle. My friendship with the great people ended.

One friendship, in particular, causes me to grief. He was not interested in exchanging regular correspondence and took initiative to ask me to end it. He beat me to it. This friendship suffered a heart attack.

Another close friend no longer writes after I moved away. At the same time she had a boyfriend. This friendship died of natural cause.