Choice in Journal

Is forever the standard. That which increases choice is inherently more virtuous. That which decreases choice is inherently more evil. I’ve written about this before, but it comes to mind again and again of late.
I’ve tasked myself with raising children. The way I am raising them matters a lot. Not just the absence of outright abuse or negligence, but in the attitudes that I use and exemplify for them. What I want, more or less, is to behave with such consistency that as they copy my exact behavior and attitudes, it will serve them in their life.
A crude and obvious example is that I strive to genuinely enjoy my children. I really don’t put anything above this. I hope that by exemplifying how truly great children really are, my children will naturally want children of their own. And so they will enjoy their children- genuinely find deep joy in it. And this is consistent. This is sustainable. This is universal and repeatable over time. Not only that, but it creates the opportunity for maximum choice.
I was raised by people who hated raising children. Sometimes I really wondered why people ever had kids. My mom used to say that she was pressured into it. And she didn’t even want a second one. It was dad who absolutely had to have a boy. I felt a sort of breath of death in those moments- as I inevitably thought what if my brother had been born first? I knew that I would never have existed.
This is to say that my parents behavior and attitudes were rather evil and sociopathic. I land in this judgement because they hated raising children, yet had children for their own narcissistic reasons. They imposed upon us their hatred of our needs- needs that are natural and intrinsic to all children. So it was not because of the effects of my parents’ that I chose children, but despite my parents. And I had to work very hard, and still work hard, in order to overcome the death impulse that was implanted. It ran the early part of my life, of course. And it almost won. It would have won. It won against my brother. Which is ironic since they had to have a boy.
Not that I am darkly satisfied about that. I really tried to talk to and bring my brother around. But he’s not interested. I can’t help anyone who doesn’t want help. Maybe if I had been quicker about it. But I’ll never know.
The way that my parents chose to live and behave affected my choices, and my brothers choices. Our choices were diminished because of our parents. I came out of childhood with ideas and attitudes and burdens that hindered my ability to think clearly, to be emotionally regulated, to feel confident or effective or to have self esteem. I came out of childhood with the assumption that I was a burden and a pain.
And, none of that is my fault. It’s my parents’ fault.

And perhaps as well the root of my dislike for being a girl was driven by the knowledge that both my parents preferred less children, and at least one boy.

I think about the principle behind my choices carefully. Maybe too carefully for the interests of most people. I honestly don’t care about them. I care insofar as their thoughtlessness affects others, and especially children. But for them, I care not at all. This might seem cold… I don’t think it is. Like every choice, I came to it carefully. I must not care about anyone more than they care for themselves. The alternative is to be enslaved to them. There is no way out of caring for those who do not care for themselves. And, I likewise must show my children that happiness isrational virtue. It is not easy to walk away from my nephew, for example. However, enslaving myself to concern for him where I zero influence over his life is a destructive model. I will not subject my children to that example. That would be a behavioral imprint that they would have to overcome in order to have an opportunity to choose freely. So, I must follow this principle in order to be moral.