Raising Women

Facebook is an interesting phenomenon. It is definitely an amusing timesuck.

For me, Facebook is a universe into which I tread pretty lightly. I definitely enjoy catching up with people I was friends with when I was younger, and am always happy to hear about their fulfilled lives and see their kids adorable pictures. I am however, sometimes a little perplexed at all the "poking" and virtual gifting of Starbucks. But that is a nonsequitor...


Facebook has become such a phenom that I have friends who specifically describe certain people as their "Facebook" friend versus an in-the-flesh one. In that sense it becomes a bit of a popularity contest for some people. And that is a game I really don't have the time or desire to play at this point in my life. But it certainly does bring back some interesting memories for me.

You see, I tortured myself enough with that garbage in high school. So much so that I was friendly with everyone in every social group, but really never truly close with any one person at my school. I always wanted to be nice to everyone and to people-please, and this definitely prevented me from being a true confidant, or really intimate friend, to anyone at my high school at that point in my life.


Now, to be fair in this recollection, I did have two close friends that I grew up with and remained close with at the neighboring high school, and I had some very memorable boyfriends, prom dates, and all that goes with along with that. What I was missing, however, was a true sense of self, and a strength from within. Add in a good dose of anorexia, a mild dose of bulimia, and a dying father, and you can imagine that my high school years were years that I just survived, under the radar, for the most part. What you'll see in the yearbook reveals none of this, and merely documents my leads in the plays and musicals, pictures with friends, and my requisite position in the popularity poll. I was so careful to avoid sharing my innards, my core, with anyone, that I remember being truly shocked at the number of friends and aquaintances that showed up at my father's shivah.

And I am one of the lucky ones. I got help for my bulimia during my college years, help that I sought out for myself after watching a close relative struggle with her eating disorder and her other separate issues. I figured out what I wanted in my life and I went after it. And if that people-pleasing role is no longer a large part of who I am, it did teach me how to make aquaintances easily. I have a large network of wonderful, genuine, caring friends, live in a great community, and have a handful of very close friends who cheer me on and support me when times get tough. I have a kind, generous, amazing husband who is 100% devoted to our family. I've got it good, and I know it.

Why am I writing about all of this now, you may wonder?

The answer is very simple. I have two daughters.

Sarah is beautiful, curious, funny and bright, and has some mild special needs that she may hopefully outgrow with time and therapies. Rachel is fun, caring, playful, nimble, and precocious.

These two beautiful girls of mine will soon age into the social pressures that I faced in school, only it is all happening even earlier these days than it did for our generation.

As a parent I definitely teach my children to be polite, kind, and follow all of the important rules. I was taught to do this at all costs as a child. But I also am teaching my girls to take care of themselves, to express themselves, to be true to themselves, and to stand up for their beliefs.

Even with this approach to parenting, I know that the time will soon come when my oldest daughter will come home from school feeling bad about herself for some reason. And hopefully she will talk to me about it so I can help her develop a way to cope with it. And then, soon after that, will come the time when she will no longer deign to talk to her mother about these pressures, both social and physical, and I will have to hope that all the parenting I do between now and tweenville is enough to build her up to withstand the harsh realities that lie ahead. Then it will start all over again with my youngest.

My own parents raised me to be a compliant, pleasant, giving member of society. All of this has indeed served me well. I am the friend you call for a listening ear, the mom who volunteers with her children at the local senior center. But I emerged from my own early childhood lesson in civilization as a Spongy Person, one who feels others' pain and joy almost too much, and lives life always hoping I have been good and kind enough to everyone else, second-guessing and questioning myself where I shouldn't.

My hope is that in raising my girls to be kind and caring, but stronger than me, they will emerge to live their lives unapologetically and with self-driven purpose. I hope and pray that these lessons stick, and that I have enough time between now and then to prepare them to not just survive, but also enjoy, their high school years and all of the growth that they face in between and beyond.