Ahava Emunah confesses to being a former obsessor over parenting styles (of her's and others), and why she chose to give that perspective up.
I don't like to pray-- at least not the kind of prayer that involves a prayerbook. Maybe its too regimented. Maybe I’m not disciplined enough. Or maybe I just never learnt how to pray.
I refuse to be the mother of a daughter/ Who spends her whole life believing/ She isn’t enough/ to let my daughter be brought up/ in a world that believes/ She is only something/ When she has a wedding ring.
What, if anything, would I march for?
I am eight years old, lying in my parents bed. In another room, my parents are arguing. I drift away feeling this was all my fault. That somehow, I am responsible for the pain and rage around me. That somehow, I have to fix things. That somehow, I am only lovable if I am perfect. It's a heavy, heavy burden to bear. And now I am a mother of four, still bearing this weight.
Now is the time to heal the scars of centuries and of recent times, that have pulled us apart and away from each other. Now is the time to nurture ourselves.
Crying at Costco, Merri tries to figure out if she did right by her out-of-the-box son.