can't even say mama.

I think a lot about being a parent as I walk through life unknowingly becoming one. It’s Mother’s Day, and I think about all the mothers that I’ve met throughout my life, my own included.

Being a parent isn’t easy. It’s not something you always choose right from the start. I think, as humans, it’s alright to take care of any life put in front of us that depends on our survival, even our own. And as we all try our best to take care of our kids, our parents, our friends, our families, ourselves even, I think a lot about what it means to bring another life into this world.

I didn’t know what becoming a parent meant. Sacrifice? Simple reproduction and continuing the species? Giving up my own life for another? It all seemed too complicated in the beginning. I’m not sure if anyone is ever truly ready to be a parent. All the planning in the world can’t prepare you for what you’re going to learn about yourself and your own childhood. It’s really fucked, to be honest. One of the things I rarely hear newer parents talk about is the absolute emotional mind fuck of reliving your own upbringing through your own kid. Seeing all the things you didn’t realize your parents were right and wrong about. It hits you out of fucking nowhere. Good luck.

Some people do it for different reasons. For their own self-interest. To create a companion, to make a friend, to get attention, to distract themselves from their own meaningless lives. Some people are taught that being a mother is a virtue. Little girls are sometimes sold a lie about castles and princes and happily ever after, but it doesn’t always work out that way.

I think about all the mothers that had bad mothers. Mothers that didn’t look after their needs, ignored their feelings, or put their own self-interest before their own kids. And their grandmothers and mothers before them, and so on.

There’s a lot of talk lately about “breaking the cycle.” Marketing, advertising, apps, products, content telling people they’re bad parents, confusing people about what their parents did to them. A lot of horse shit out there. A lot of guilt farming and rage baiting, and I just can’t subscribe to any of it. You gotta ignore it, look the other way, and really look inward if you’re a parent. Find what’s meaningful and virtuous to you and you only, whether you’re a single parent, part of a blended family, a step parent, or in a traditional family.

It’s sad, but my mom has recently started using the fact that I go to therapy as a weapon against me. If any of your family or friends do this, you gotta cut them loose. You can be a tough guy all you want, I don’t give a fuck. Therapy is cool and useful. However, to a family member who refuses to take accountability or is afraid of the truth, therapy can become the enemy. Tough shit.

Traditional family is something I’m not familiar with.

I grew up with a single mother who, while she tried her hardest to provide financially, struggled, in my opinion, to find what she was looking for mentally and emotionally. I think this is very common. A lot of our lives are spent distracted, whether it’s jobs, friendships, relationships, partying, careers, you get my point. Sometimes your life gets away from you and doesn’t go as planned, and you don’t even realize it.

My mom worked multiple jobs in the restaurant industry to survive. Looking back, it wasn’t too dissimilar from what I see a lot of hardworking single mothers doing in our industry every day. Server at a Chinese restaurant. Bartender on the weekends. Cleaning office buildings at night. I wonder now if it was to provide for me or just pure survival and self-preservation. Living with constant financial uncertainty and emotional chaos truly did a number on my nervous system. It doesn’t exactly bode well for a calm, anxiety-free existence. But it’s not necessarily my mom’s fault. Every case is different and the same. A struggling single mother or a rich CEO dad can fuck up a kid just the same. It’s all about how and when you decide to fix it. I think.

When you’re younger, you have dreams. You make plans. You set goals with other people. Personally, from what I’ve heard, I think my parents had different goals than becoming parents. I think they fell in love through partying and having a good time and through the common understanding that they were two people who felt very alone in the world. I don’t think having me was ever part of the plan, if I’m being honest, and that’s OK.

In general, I was a lonely kid. Your parents’ social anxiety and unresolved issues can sometimes get in the way of your growth as both an adult and a child. But as Charles Bukowski said, “There are worse things than being alone…” and he’s right. That old drunk was right a lot. My loneliness became the key to my creativity. It gave me space to imagine, draw, create. It also gave me the overthinking brain.

I think the majority of us would and should feel comfortable saying we were probably accidents. Come on. Planning a child is a luxury for the rich and nepotistic, if that’s even a word. Most of us don’t get to plan our lives the way we see in movies and sitcoms. Life just doesn’t fucking work that way.

Me and my mom have rarely seen eye to eye. The second I became a teenager and started having my own thoughts about how I wanted to live my life, that was when the connection started to break. I don’t think, as a parent, you should have expectations for how your children should live their lives. You should hope for the best and, as that really corny song says, hold on loosely.

I think my mom did her best to do that, but in doing so she lost a bit of herself along the way. Life can slip away from that loose grip in the meantime, and before you know it, 60 years have gone by and you haven’t ended up doing anything you wanted to do for yourself.

I think my point is that I love my mom, and you should love your mom too, but that doesn’t mean you’re obligated to do everything your family expects of you. You should still try to live the life you wanna live, within reason of course. Don’t be a fucking scumbag.

On a day like today, I think about all the single mothers I’ve met throughout my lifetime. All the ones I’ve dated (sorry). All the ones working in the restaurant industry, serving others, working overtime, working multiple jobs just to feed their kids, doing the best they can because that’s all any of us can ever really do.

Your parents are just people. Your mom, a woman who birthed you. Your dad, well… let’s not think about what dad did. Fuckin yuck. Anyways. They are flawed people carrying thoughts, stress, panic, and emotions just like you and me. They may have fucked up, and if you’re a parent, you’re also going to fail sometimes. All the options are OK. There is no right answer. I say it all the time, do what you want. This is the one life you get, no thanks to your dear old mom. Make it dope. Cool?

Honestly, I don’t know what sort of parent my son will think I am when he’s my age. It’s not for me to decide. He will grow older, become who he wants to become hopefully, and his opinion of me is irrelevant. My wish is that he can be comfortable in his own skin. That he can fully be himself all the time without fear of judgment or validation from others. I’m not so selfish that I need my own son to validate whether I’m a decent person or not. He’s not obligated to like me. He is obligated to live the best life he possibly can with or without me. Dark, I know, but it’s reality.

Do I think me and my mom can love each other imperfectly from afar and still mean well? I do. I don’t think you necessarily need to be in the presence of something to feel care or love for it. Religion is built on that silly notion, isn’t it. (Profound Tony.)

Give yourself some grace, especially today, if you’re a mom and you’re struggling, or if you and your mom don’t get along, or don’t even talk anymore. We’re all gonna fuck up sometimes, and that’s OK.

Just keep walking. 🤜