I am reading

a book called ‘Vanishing Acts’ by Jodi Picoult.

It’s about a woman whose father kidnaps her when she’s four years old to save her from growing up with an abusive and alcoholic mother. The main character, Delia, thinks that her mother died in a car accident. At the age of 32, the whole thing comes unraveled: Delia learns that her father is a fugitive and her mother is alive.

The book sucked me right in – I started it Sunday night and haven’t been able to put it down.

But now I’m more than half way through and it’s getting a little irritating.

There’s too much whining about having bad parents. She doesn’t “know who to trust now.”

Get over yourself, lady.

Your father had the courage to break the law in order to save you from an unhappy childhood.

Good parents do whatever it takes to make sure their kids grow up happy and healthy. The lies they tell early on to protect us shouldn’t be held against them once we’re all grown up.

And they certainly shouldn’t be used as an excuse for our own failings as adults.

Even if you had bad parents (or none at all) it’s a lesson in how not to be, right?
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This web site is fascinating: PostSecret

Slap your confession on a postcard, mail it in, and they publish it.

But the most recent batch (they’re published every Sunday) had to do with Father’s Day and I’m irritated because most of the confessions were whiney about – you guessed it – bad dads.

Based on the postcards, you could assume:

1. Bad fathers outnumber the good ones;
   
2. People who submit anonymous confessions to web sites might have issues with taking responsibility for their own shit; or
3. People who had great fathers don’t have much to confess.

I don’t know the answer to that one.

But I do know that as mature adults, it’s our responsibility to get over the minor and often major traumas that come with childhood.

But…but…but…my parents were abusive! My mom was an alcoholic! My dad lied to me!

That’s their shit. Don’t make it yours.

There’s a lesson in every bad thing that happens. Your job is to figure it out.

And for Christ’s sake, stop whining about it.
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That’s easy for you to say, Heather.

You have good parents.

Hell yeah, I do. They fuckin’ rock.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t have my share of issues (those of you who know me best can stop nodding now, thank you very much.)

They’re MY issues.

I’m not looking to blame anyone – especially not my parents and especially not this late in the game – for the shit I haven’t figured out yet.

Your parents have an influence on the adult you become. No doubt.

If you had good ones, try to be like them. If you had bad parents, learn from their mistakes; don’t make them your own.
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I am listening to: The train rocking back and forth on the tracks
I am reading: Crain’s Chicago Business 40 Under 40 application
And I am: Irritated & preachy