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I was folding a hand towel that I use in the bathroom - light pink, with textured skulls that I bought from an H&M in Denver years ago - and I saw black nail polish etched into the fabric; more than likely it will be a permanent blemish.

My first reaction was annoyance. My six-year-old daughter must have been painting her nails and used the towel in an attempt to minimize the mess. I thought about showing her the towel so she could see the nail polish didn’t come out.

But I chose not to do that.

I put the towel away instead. I will request that she uses a paper towel next time, without mentioning the towel.

I thought about how I’m always telling them to try things before asking me, to do XYZ themselves because when they grow up they’ll have to know how to do such and such thing and I want them to learn, how I’m always reminding them to pick up this and pick up that, etc. Etc. Etc. I’m sure all of us are tired of me henpecking.

In this instance my daughter was demonstrating such independence. She wanted to paint her nails and attempted to clean up after herself. She didn’t ask me for help, she just went ahead and tried it herself. This is more important to me than the old, pink towel.

This led me to think about my own experiences and emotional growth. Part of me believes there was a time I would have reacted before assessing the situation. I would have been angry about the towel and enacted yet another specific rule for weary children to try to remember. This time I had the space to evaluate before I could react. I am grateful for this space. I didn’t always have it. I still don’t always, but human beings are ruled mostly by our faulty brains that don’t run well without enough sleep, food, and too much stress (which the average adult seems to have quite a lot of).

I thought back to what my mom would have done. She would have been angry. She would have scolded me, for sure. I don’t blame her for wanting to keep shared objects in good condition. I can relate, especially since I love my pink towels with the textured skulls. I don’t blame my mom for trying her best, even if her best wasn’t always adequate, admittedly. When I look back at my own childhood and adolescence, I see the pattern of emotional reactivity that comes from long-term stress. My mom had some unspeakably horrible things that occurred in her life. So did my grandmother. My mom’s emotional regulation skills never stood a chance. I didn’t always have the happiest or most peaceful childhood, but I recognize that my mom did her best to do better for us. And in many ways, she did.

I’ve done a lot of healing in the last year and a half. I remember gnawing ache of how miserable I felt in my marriage, how giving grace and forgiveness felt like impossible skills that I could never seem to learn. I see now that I never had emotional bandwidth I needed to develop them. I was always running on empty. The same thing happened in every romantic relationship I’d ever had before that one as well, and I could never understand why I felt like such a bitter person who was too easily deeply resentful. My emotional regulation skills just… sucked, all while taking on most of the emotional labor in every relationship like I was taught to do by society. I wasn’t equipped for that.

Since I’ve been by myself, I’ve been able to develop better emotional intelligence and skills. It feels like magic, but really it’s just space, having enough emotional capacity.

I remember feeling such intense resentment towards my ex’s, especially my ex-husband. I can plainly say now that I forgive them. I forgive my mom. It’s possible because I allowed myself grace, forgiveness, and space.

I don’t like the phrase “you can’t love someone else until you love yourself.” But love cannot endure without forgiveness and adequate emotional capacity and self-regulation skills. I guess in some ways, that does mean loving yourself enough to do that.

Last updated May 11, 2021