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Learning to Love Scotch-Tape Parenting
I’m learning not to beat myself up over everything I should have done differently as a mother
In December 2012, I was on vacation with my parents and two children. At the time, I was working as a prosecutor in New York City. We were two years deep into a massive pill mill investigation, but we had just secured a comprehensive indictment from the Grand Jury — so this was the closest I would get to ‘down time’ for a few years. Unfortunately, it was also “down” time. I was physically in a beach paradise but emotionally in a state of nothingness: physical existence without the capacity to feel. Why? Years of continuing divorce-related conflict, a recent breakup, brain chemistry and plain old exhaustion.
I dragged the weight of my body around, and but my mind and emotions felt even more sluggish than my limbs. I rustled up emergency energy reserves for basic human interactions and simultaneously dreaded the end of the week: my kids were headed to their dad’s house to ring in the New Year. Thinking about that imminent transition gave me just enough heat to wake up and move, but also promised a steeper fall once I found myself alone again.
One afternoon, I sat on the verandah watching as my daughter, then nine years old, arranged tiny sea shells on the table with my…
