However, they still messed me up for life and played a big part in my neurotic-ism. I think that as parents, you have to accept the fact that you will give your child issues. The key is to make sure that those issues are relatively minor and not intentional. I am pretty sure that my parents only wanted the best for me and did not intend to turn me into a cutter by age twelve. I'm pretty sure that their insistence on perfection was meant to make me strive to be the best I could be, not to swallow over a hundred tylenol pills just to see what would happen. I am also almost certain that my parents did not mean for my ballet classes (that they insisted I continue) to turn into a lifelong hatred of food,fat, and self loathing with every meal. They did their best to make sure I always did my best and only wanted to motivate me to succeed. I led them to it with my own determination to Be Somebody Someday. I mean, how many three year olds know what they want to be when they grow up (and stick to it!) ? How many ten year olds have five and ten year plans? I doubt many elementary students put themselves through several grueling hours of practice until they get that grand jeté prima ballerina perfect. From the start, I was impatient (born almost a month early!) demanding, and hard on myself. My parents love me,and want to help me succeed in anyway possible,even if that means riding my ass about things; to this day they still check up on me and make sure I am on track. My younger brother? Not so much. He is laid back, a solid "c" student, and deals with little parental pressure. My parents accept and love him for who he is, not who he could be. I think that's awesome, and sometimes I wish that it was the same way for me. My father has actually admitted that they realized early on that he wouldn't be their wonder-kid and that's why they push me so hard. They love him and want him to succeed but know that he isn't the Type A personality who usually is drawn to high profile careers and stressful lifestyles. My brother goes out with friends, has girls over, and gets a lot more free rein than I ever got and no one frowns at "b"'s on his report card. Yes, I am jealous, how did you know? The point is,however, that my parents mean well. Had they not been up my butt in high school, I may have ended up pregnant by 17 (like my mom) instead of earning a full tuition scholarship to the university of my choice. I may not be where I am today ( offered a dozen scholarships to various law schools, married, homeowner, gainfully employed) had I been allowed to slip up more often. I am thankful to them (and my ballet instructor,more on her later) for teaching me that "Good enough" is never good enough. I can do better; I can be better. No one is perfect, this is true, but one can strive to be as perfect as possible,right?
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