I worry about the world in which I’m raising my children. I fear that it’s way messed up. I mean yeah, it’s violent and there’s death and despair all around us but I’m worried about something far worse. I’m worried about them becoming pretentious assholes. Honestly, they are way more likely to turn into entitled brats than they are mass murderers. If I’m being honest with myself and all of you, they are well on their way.
Let me be frank; I haven’t helped much by way of the company we keep, save a few good people. I cant even count the amount of times I have had people come into my house look around and ask, “oh you bought the house as soon as you moved here?” as I say “nope we’re renting” I get this look that says it all. That look of, “awww, I’m sorry you’re poor. I guess we will hang out with you out of necessity or work responsibilities.” I kid you not when I tell you that everyone I have recently met has mentioned how many properties they own and how many spots they have vacationed at, in our first meeting. Not just them, their littlest kids of under 10 years old will give you that information as though their lives depend on it.
They do at least feel as though their importance to others or place in the world does depend on what they own. As for my kids they are entitled enough and think the world is at their feet without any of that information so I’ll keep it from them for as long as I possibly can. Don’t be fooled by this last sentence though, we are not poor but we’re not rich either. At least not in the traditional sense. What does rich look like anyway? Is it owning land? Houses? Cars? Do I have those? Yes. Do I own all of them or some of them? You will never know because I hope you are not here because of any of that. I hope you are here because I am just THAT amazing. No, but seriously. I would rather have an abundant amount of eclairs than cars. You cant eat cars when you’re emotionally drained. That was an inside joke. If you got it, you got it. If not…I apologize.
In all seriousness though, where did we go wrong that we started telling tiny humans that their worth is counted in big mansions. How little we must make them feel to tell them they are nothing without the help of stuff that is way bigger than them. The material that they can’t comprehend and in their tiny heads cant even began to imagine how to gather. All of it must make them feel so inadequate so unfit to be anything but not good enough.
Clearly we have never felt good enough ourselves to need the aid of material so heavily. Clearly our morals, our values, our personality, our character was never good enough for us so we counted our worth in quantifiable objects. Maybe we were never told that we have all the character and all the valuable attributes that are needed to be enough. Perhaps a change in attitude, perhaps an overhaul in society and a deeper emphasis on character of a person rather than their bank account is needed?
The question still remains, how do I protect my children from it? The answer is both extremely simple and increasingly difficult. I make them sure of their abilities. I tell them that who they are is not about what they own. Who they are is not even about what they know, I have seen many knowledgeable men and women become assholes just because they have more information compared to others. No,. I tell them they will achieve true greatness when they care about none of those things.
I tell them their hard work will matter when they work hard because they enjoy doing the work. I want them to understand that knowledge will matter if they are enjoying acquiring it and not getting it because they want to hold it over others. I tell them being better will actually be better if its to help others and not just themselves.
You know the most interesting part of it all? You cant TELL children anything. So, when I say I tell them I mean I’m learning to live it myself. In other words the only way to save my kids from not becoming assholes is for me to not be one myself. And those of you who know me know very well that I’ve got a long way to go.
I hear the first step to solving one’s problems is admitting that you have one. I guess I’ve got that going for me.
So…good for me?
To Whom It May Concern 