Finding My Purpose
And Feeling Like An Imposter.
Like most indoor playgrounds, there are inherent benefits to both caregivers and children. Caregivers get a reprieve while their little ones are entertained. They can be with other adults to socialize and build on their community connections. And if they feel like their little ones are learning while playing or able to burn off some needed energy, it’s a win win. Children get to socialize, explore new environments and play equipment, practice new skills and different play styles. But if our space didn’t offer more than what was already available, I knew my heart wouldn’t be in it.
So in July of 2018, I’m still contemplating a reason to open up an indoor playground and my nearly four year old is asking for toys. I’m immediately hit with this guilt. I’m spoiling him. I haven’t taught him to appreciate what he has and how lucky he is compared to so many other children. The moment reminds me of how frustrated I was to not be able to find any suitable service based activities to share with my son when he was two years old. I spent a few weeks and talked to all my friends with kids because how could there be nothing. He was too young to visit nursing homes and help deliver meals on wheels. Serving in a soup kitchen or participating in Habitat For Humanity wasn’t age appropriate. We could always do a walk or have him help me find and donate items but that all felt like a cop out. And as I complained to my husband again that there should be more service based opportunities for young kids, I was hit with our purpose. We could use the play space as a way to also foster kindness and giving.
When we become a parent for the first time, the world all of a sudden takes new form. Things that you had the privilege of disregarding or avoiding could no longer be the case. I remember so vividly worrying about the world that my son would come to know. With all the bullying, violence, and greed that surrounds us, it can be terrifying to think of your child navigating that world. Having my son opened me up in ways I never expected. I never thought of myself as social, but rather more of an introvert. True friendships often took a long time to foster as I tended to be walled off. Social environments never felt natural to me which made it hard to connect with people. But as a parent, connecting with other parents was so easy. We could share in the challenges and joys that come with parenthood. And I’ve been notoriously known to be honest. Brutally honest at times which can be thought of as unkind. So I never thought of myself as a kind person. But as a parent, it became so important to me to be an example of kindness for him. And I never thought of myself as charitable. I’ve donated clothes and money and volunteered my time here and there, but never to the extent that made me feel like I was a giving person.
As I get further down the road to bringing the idea to reality, I all of a sudden get struck with imposter syndrome. Who am I to promote kindness and giving? While I genuinely believed in it and wanted to help offer opportunities for families to share in it, I hadn’t spent my life living by these values. It felt wrong and exploitative and I started to question what we were trying to build. So I sat with it for a bit.
While with my brothers one day, we started talking about the book The 5 Love Languages by Gary Chapman. The premise of the book is that each of us have a love language and if we understand our love language and that of our partner, we can more effectively communicate and support each other. The 5 love languages are: 1) receiving gifts 2) words of affirmation 3) quality time 4) acts of service 5) physical touch. I wondered out loud which one was mine. Both my brothers gave me this ‘are you kidding’ look. They were adamant that I was acts of service, which made me scoff. So they pulled out the receipts. I donated a kidney to my oldest brother after
he suffered kidney failure. As an RA in college, I loaned a resident money to pay tuition so they wouldn’t have to drop out. I took on responsibility to support family in Vietnam after my mom passed away. And the countless things I had done for the two of them and friends over the years. I pointed out that these were all things for people I knew and who wouldn’t do these things for those they cared about. I didn’t have a track record of giving to those I didn’t know so I couldn’t be acts of service. They quickly corrected me that acts of love was about doing things that can make others feel appreciated or that can help make their life easier. It didn’t have to be for strangers. And so, I contemplated this new understanding. I later thought back to an aptitude test I had taken in junior high school that I still have today. The test was intended to identify which field you were most suited for based on your interest and mine indicated social work. I remember scoffing at the test thinking they got it so wrong. But was I?
I’ve always thought of myself as being very self aware. Upfront about my shortcomings and flaws, more so than most I thought. And I had classified my mom as acts of service which was something that frustrated me growing up. I often saw my mom go out of her way for all kinds of people. Family in Vietnam, family in the states, friends she met at Bingo, customers she only just met at the nail shop she worked at. The list just goes on and on. I remember always wondering why she would do these things for those that she barely knew and for some that she did know, why she would let them take advantage of her kindness and generosity. It never occurred to me that I was the same until my brothers pointed it out that day. I had so much trouble reconciling this conflict. Here I was not able to see how I was so similar to my mother and in a way that I had faulted her. Talk about lack of self awareness!!
In this context, I could see my brothers’ points. And it draws me back to how being a parent has changed who I want to be and that includes how acts of service plays a part in my life. Before kids, I was more committed to servicing those I knew because selfishly, helping others has always made me feel good. As a parent, this need to help others began to extend beyond my circle. I felt more compelled to help those within our community. Because you can’t raise kids without a strong community and I was feeling the benefits and effects of it with each passing day. I wanted to support others as much as I was receiving. Whether that be helping another parent navigate how to secure speech services for their child, lending our canopy for a parent that needed it to deliver on their child’s backyard birthday party on a scorching hot day, or donating clothing and toys to local families. I just wanted to help where I could even though these acts felt small. Wanting to help has been a constant throughout my life growing up and as an adult. It just made me feel good to know I was helping someone even when the person receiving didn’t appreciate or took advantage, I never regretted it. And now I see why my mom was so generous even as she had so little.
As parents, I think we all suffer from a bit of imposter syndrome whether we call it that or not. We don’t want other parents to know that we just run out the door for drop off without brushing our hair because we woke up late, that we’ve hit a breaking point and screamed at our children in a moment of frustration, that we break down when we see our child struggling to adjust to kindergarten and we don’t know how to help them, or that some days we rely on TV more than we’d like to get a moment of peace. These things may continue through parenthood, but I can at least know that I lived a life of kindness and giving even if it wasn’t how I identified it.