Personal Reflection

Maybe I could have been a better step-mom. Well, maybe I could have been a better mom too. I intended to be, better, that is, than my own mother and her mother. When my husband and I came together for our second marriages, we fully believed we could blend his son and daughter with son and daughter. I had the vision that I could be like Maria in ‘The Sound of Music’ and sing us into togetherness. I tried my darndest to do just that, offering up games and cute ideas and family projects as the way to fill everyone’s hearts and make us into a cohesive family unit.

What I never expected to find were kids who didn’t want to play my games or dance or sing or do projects.
I was dealing with instant teenagers and didn’t have a clue what that was like in the late 70s in Concord, CA. I had no idea of what had gone on before in their lives, what pressures and stresses had occurred between them, their father and mother. I also realize now I had no clue what had happened to my own children in my divorce and my all-consuming steps towards independence.

I had believed it could be as simple as the ex-nun’s story of feeling the grandeur of life and loving it all. I never considered that any of our children might be damaged by babysitters or step-fathers or that they might run away with their friends to drink and party under the BART station tracks for a lark.

I knew what I’d done as a teenager. I never dreamed it could be worse.

So in hindsight, I admit I was a dreamer. I was a full-fledged practitioner of denial and built mountainous barriers to keep me from facing the reality of their experiences.

I was finally able to get real at a family counseling week in Southern California for my husband’s daughter, Linda. Without a doubt, I got the message to leave myself out of the relationship between my step-kids and their dad. They didn’t need another mother. At that time, they weren’t interested in having me as a friendly aunt or a friend, period. I learned I needed to step away from my own children’s lives too. With two years of counseling and grief, I came to learn boundaries because without them, I was out of balance with my own world, too much in theirs, and not enough in the place where I needed to live.

I needed to love myself enough to accept the things I couldn’t change.

Reflecting on the past now, maybe I wasn’t quite so bad as a mom and a step-mom. The only thing I know, for sure, is that I tried, and I took to heart the lessons I learned along the way.