The Child-Less Swing

I love the story this photos conveys: a swing without a child, a bench without a parent.

As the child of an alcoholic father and a codependent mother, I was that child, often too busy parenting myself, too serious, to let go, to be a child in a swing.

A Father Present, Even in His Frequent Absence

Strangely, although my father was primarily absent, his presence permeated our home. I recall much time spent in nervous anticipation of his arrival home. And when he was home, there was an undercurrent of expectation toward his imminent departure, not to mention a wellspring of fear that one of us might trigger his anger.

I particularly recall his insistence that my mother have dinner ready by 5 pm, though he would depart shortly after we ate and remain out until long after we were asleep. I am sure his swift after-dinner departure was a source of sadness for my mother.

A Mother Doing, Rather Than Being

My mother. We revolved around her, as the moon around the Earth, yet she was in her own orbit, revolving around my father, as the Earth revolves around the Sun. If she wasn’t anticipating his needs, his anger, or his betrayals, she was likely protecting herself from them by staying in almost perpetual motion.

She was a “human doing,” and not so much a “human being.” Although she did not hold a job outside the home, she was a prolific volunteer and joiner. There were Women’s clubs and Hospital Auxiliary clubs, school PTAs and Community Playhouse committees. These I remember.

Taking on a Parent’s Role

For me, parenting myself meant earning the highest grades, selling the most Girl Scout cookies, getting in the least trouble, making the fewest demands. As a result of parenting myself, I became hyper-responsible. I felt responsibility for others lives, whether or not they wanted me to.

As an adult, I now try my best to let others take responsibility for their own lives, while I pay attention to that little girl named Gretchen in the swing, from my place on the bench.