Parenting is just too hard

It is almost three years since my last post. Not only has life kept me distracted and undisciplined (except to meet my bare minimum day-to-day responsibilities), but major events have also overwhelmed me and kept me not only from blogging, writing and dreaming up a book, but also from sleeping. During these absent years I have experienced life that no other person in my immediate social circle has gone through -- the loss of a parent who was estranged for 11 years (until 18 months before death) and with whom I had unresolved emotional issues; the sudden realization that life will go on even without the resolution that I so intensely hoped for; the discovery that I am capable of forgiveness towards parents for the past yet struggle with newer ongoing incidents rising from the same old patterns of neglect; the awareness that there is only a fine line between falling into a mental health crisis situation and keeping it all together, at least during work hours (sometimes not even then, but hiding it well)... But none of these experiences compare with the torture of having to parent teenagers who suddenly see nothing redeeming in me, leave alone anything loving and respectable about me. Ah, I know I sound so, so...pathetic!  But it is the truth. Raising tantrum-ready toddlers and talkative eight year olds is nothing compared to teenagers who ignore me one moment and mock me the next and refuse to heed any advice just because it comes from me. Because in those other growing periods, they still hugged me, kissed me, needed me, and cuddled with me on the couch. The only thing they need me for is to pay for their clothes/shoes/never-ending school fundraising!

Actually, I hope the worst is over with my soon-to-be 17-year old child. We are at a point where things are somewhat easy again. Judging by the dynamics in my nuclear family, the pre-teen and early-teen years are likely the worst, when kids are testing their boundaries and the limits of what they can get away with. It still means another four to five years of frustration and tears for me. The timing is so disastrous -- I need some time and space for my own personal grievances and losses, but I have to handle parenting, as my first priority, even though I am aware that one thing influences the other. Nothing happens in silos (unlike work places), when it comes to our personal lives.