I started a new painting this morning. It’s a commissioned piece for a family member. I live in an historic neighborhood and the high school is a beloved institution, and the building itself is beloved for its architecture. So I started an 11x14 painting of the school from the exterior. I am in the process of doing five larger paintings of the school but she wanted a small piece so, I’m on it.
I was contacted over the weekend about a possible commission for a childhood friend of mine. It’s for her daughter’s birthday in May so there’s time. It seems like when I decide to start doing commissions they come. Today I will walk the neighborhood passing out more flyers to try and get commissions - house, pet, and kid portraits. I’m realizing that I’m happiest when I’m working, when I’ve got jobs to focus on. So that’s what I want for the New Year.
I listened to a podcast I’ve never heard before: Adult Child. It’s an exploration of growing up in a dysfunctional family. The episode I listened to focused on money - underearning, debting, over spending. Lots of juicy stuff. I discovered several years ago that the twelve-step program Adult Children of Alcoholics changed their name to include Dysfunctional Families - Adult Children of Alcoholics/Dysfunctional Families. The reason being that so many people who did not grow up with alcoholism still grew up with a lot of the same dysfunction as the family disease of alcoholism. That made me happy as I can also identify with a lot of adult children issues and neither of my parents drank.
The discussion of money in the podcast was affirming. My parents did not like for us to ask for anything. In fact, it would often lead to a sideways glance before being asked, “Who do you think you are?”, that beautiful, shaming question I heard so often growing up. And my parents were also very clear about not wanting to spoil us. Now that I’m an adult I think what produces spoiled children is depriving them of things they need, like love, respect, dignity, room to feel their feelings, safe touch, and being heard, not giving them too much stuff.
I have two memories from childhood about money. One memory is of asking my dad for money to go to the mall. I’d already asked permission to go with friends to see a movie, get a slice of pizza, and buy a cassette tape from Sam Goody and it had been granted. But now I needed the money. I said I needed $10. My dad opened his wallet and stared into it for a few seconds counting his cash. I had to explain to him all over again the plan for the day and what I needed the money for. He wanted to hear it all again. Then he pulled out $7 and told me to work for the rest. When I protested he said he was teaching me how to have incentive, that if I really wanted to buy things I should work for it. “Be hungry”. So that day I either went without pizza or a tape, I don’t remember which one, probably the tape. This was normal in my house.
The other memory is of being with my cousin. They had a beach house and we would visit during the summers. My cousin and I wanted to play lacrosse but we couldn’t find a lacrosse ball. She ran to her dad and asked for money to get one. He pulled out his wallet and without thinking handed her $20. He didn’t even ask for the change. I was flabbergasted. Shocked. I immediately thought of all the shit I went through with my dad and how hard it was to ask for things and it stunned me. Really stunned me. I was envious of her, envious that her father was so giving with his abundance.
I’ve noticed in life that when I want something badly, when I think a situation would be unbearable, that very scenario becomes inevitable. It’s like they say with the law of attraction: obsessing over what you don’t want attracts it to you, so stay focused on what you do want. It’s ironic that my parents were afraid their children would be spoiled because I think my brother and I were probably the more spoiled kids we knew. Entitled and bitter.
There are so many aspects to family dysfunction, so many things that lead to dysfunction as an adult. It’s not that hard to become an adult child. Maybe we’re all adult children. Maybe it’s a spectrum, and we’re all on it. Either way, talking about it, hearing others talk about it, helps. It seems like clarity leads to recovery.