How To Redeem a Bad Childhood (Dr. Laura Schlessinger Tells Her Story )

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Editor's note: The following is adapted from the "post script" of Dr. Laura Schlessinger's newest book, "Bad Childhood – Good Life," available from the WorldNetDaily Book Service.

Upon hitting the save prompt on my computer after finishing the last line of my newest book, "Bad Childhood – Good Life," I became choked up. That's never happened after completing any of my prior eight adult books. I believe I got so emotional because of three factors:

I was deeply moved by the courage and character displayed by people who have: a.) suffered significant pain at the hands of others they should have been able to trust and count on;

b.) realized and been willing to face and change the mess they may have created for themselves with counterproductive thoughts and actions that were a reaction to their bad childhood.

I felt that this was probably the most important book I've ever written, based upon how much I believe it is going to help change peoples lives dramatically for the better.

I realized that I could not have written this book any earlier in my life because I had to be way down the road of my own Good Journey – and I was pleased to be able to see myself in that context.

Both of my parents are now deceased. While I will share some of my personal issues with you, I am not – as are the other contributors to this book – anonymous, and I don't wish to do damage to my parents even after their deaths. Therefore, this will be more philosophical than autobiographical.

About one year before my father's stomach cancer rapidly took his life just weeks after it was diagnosed, I remember him commenting on the huge number of people who came to the funeral of the wife of one of his co-workers: "Gee, I wonder how many people would come to my funeral?" It was an unusually candid moment for my father, and I believe it was probably one of the few introspective moments of his life. Perhaps he had regrets at that time for not having nurtured relationships. He was a very difficult, compulsive, critical and argumentative guy – who could also be very charming.

The last day he was coherent, I asked him the question of my lifetime: "Do you love me and have you ever been proud of what I've done with my life?" I remember the moment, thinking that his answer would change a lifetime of anguish and transform me into a more peaceful and happy person.

Obviously, that was the answer any daughter would want to hear. I waited, as one does for the thunder after the lightening strike, for something magical to happen to me. I should have been happy or satisfied or something.

Absolutely nothing happened. I excused myself and walked out the sliding door to his living room into the back yard and paced around his pool. I was trying to figure out why I was not moved and I was trying to come up with what might be my next question.

I realized quickly why I was not moved by what he said, and why there was no next question. My father had been so tough on me that, for example, one spring-break week in college, I actually stayed in the dorm and survived on a bag of Oreo cookies rather than come home to his brow-beatings. Nonetheless, it has been clear to me for a long while that my drive to excel is directly related to a desire to finally please my dad. I can look at his impact on me as positive (I worked extremely hard to do something of value) and negative (I found it extremely difficult to enjoy my successes).

By the time of this last conversation with him, I had pulled back the lens and looked at him with objectivity. I was not the little girl trying to get approval from her dad. I was a grown, competent woman looking at a man who had been petty, insensitive, mean, thoughtless, demeaning and downright unloving, all for the sake of his own ego. At that moment, I realized why I was not moved by what he said, and why there was no next question: He'd been a "jerk," and what he had to say really didn't, and shouldn't, matter. Believe me when I tell you that was a stunner! To think that much of what was not healthy about my life was a reaction to him – wow! – what a waste!

Sadly, when my father finally died shortly after this conversation, I did not mourn. I realized that was because there was no emotional bond. To this day, I envy people who suffer over the death of a parent because it means there was so much love and attachment that the loss of it tears at their soul. I never had that with either parent.

My first memory from my childhood is one of my mother pulling me along the sidewalk on a rainy night, while my father was in the car, rolling along the curb, begging her to get in ... "The kid'll get sick!" This pretty much represented their marriage. For reasons I never knew, they never appeared happy with each other. My father would never do nice things for her, she was always annoyed with him.

My mother was a war-bride from Italy. My father, a second lieutenant in the Army, met her in Gorizia, after the American forces liberated northern Italy. My mother was an amazing beauty. When I was 21 and planning an anniversary gift for them, I asked my father what anniversary it was. Turns out they were married in Italy, outside under a beautiful tree when I was some 5 months into my fetal development. I actually liked hearing that I was a "love child," because it meant there was at least one time they had been happy with each other.

When my mother, a nice Italian Catholic girl, came to America after having married my father, a nice American Jewish boy, all hell broke loose when my father's mother went on a relentless attack against the "shicksah," which means in Yiddish the non-Jewish wife of a Jewish man. My grandmother tried to do everything she could to get rid of my mother, and turned much of the family into rejecting her/us.

When I was 2-1/2, my mother took me back to Italy, probably to get a break from this cruelty. My mother's mother and father were dead by this time. She was not close to her brother, and her older sister had been killed by the Nazis on the first day she joined the underground resistance (I like to think that I channel her courage).

There was always tension in our home, and I was always trying to smooth things over and try to make things better. My sister, 11 years my junior, and I really didn't have much bonding time because I left for college at 17 (she was 6) and never came home to live again. She and I handled the negativity in our home in different ways – she was more free-spirited, and I was more serious; this brought conflict between us.

My parents finally divorced after my father was involved in some extracurricular activities, and he married a nice woman with whom he lived until his death. My mother never remarried, and constantly expressed disdain for men, sex and love. Neither one of them had ever developed any close friendships at all. I felt responsible for her, while my sister gravitated toward my dad – who was feeling some guilt for the whole family mess and would indulge her.

I financially supported my mother (who had significant financial resources from her divorce and investments) by having her be a receptionist in my counseling clinic. She had tried other jobs in clothing stores and such, but her poor people skills would soon end that. She was abrupt and nasty with the counselors and with people on the telephone, and she seemed to try to pit me against everyone else, I guess to have me all to herself. I put up with all of this out of a sense of obligation. I always took her on my vacations and bought her lovely gifts even when I had a modest income (mink jacket, diamond bracelet, for example). She would never be grateful and would always find something to criticize.

One day, I gently asked if she would take a typing course, on my dime, because I needed help with the growing amount of paperwork I had as a therapist, writer and college professor. She said, "No," picked up her stuff from the office and refused to see or talk to me ever again. Once my mother scratched you off her list, you were off for life – even if you were her daughter. She had pathological pride.

She was not there for my son's birth, my home burning to the ground, my husband's near fatal heart-attack, nor the public attacks on me and my career by various special-interest groups. After that, I frankly didn't care about her either. There had never been any mother-daughter bond with me or with my sister.

One day the Beverly Hills Police called me (she had a condo in Beverly Hills) to let me know my mother was dead, and had been dead on the floor of her apartment for about four months. (There were no friends and none of her neighbors were close – nobody noticed!) They said it was probably a homicide, but not a robbery. When the police came to my home to ask me questions, I told them it couldn't be a homicide. I said that to murder someone "personal," you had to be close enough to begin to hate, and that nobody got close to her. The final conclusion was unknown cause of death, but not homicide.

The horrendous part of all of this is how the media – because I am a "celebrity" – handled this event. I was accused by many of the network so-called news shows and radio talk-show hosts of abandoning my mother, contrary to what I espouse on my radio program. She alienated everyone from her life and I was being made to pay the price for that. One of the network morning-news anchors asked some psychiatrist they grabbed at the last moment to comment on whether I should be giving advice about family issues when I didn't have a relationship with my mother. My mother, I anguished, was causing me pain even after death!

My mother had a condo worth over a half-million dollars, stocks, bonds, money in the bank, and insurance policies (which were made out to me as the beneficiary – I gave it all away to a children's foundation charity). She took trips on luxury liners and flew the Concorde to Europe. She didn't lack for anything she wanted.

Nonetheless, let me answer that question, although it should be obvious. That I did not have a loving, bonded family as a child disqualifies me from trying to help others create such in their homes? Huh? Of course not. If because I did not have a loving childhood I tried to undermine everyone else's attempts to have one, then I should be disqualified, of course. Everyone knows I'm a "family values" kinda girl, and because my positions – on marriage before children, hands-on parenting before institutionalized day care, divorce as a last recourse when there are minor children, and adoption before abortion – are hot-button issues, the messenger (me) was attacked in this vulgar, inhumane manner by media types who somehow see these values as threatening America.

When my mother died, I didn't mourn. As with my father, there just wasn't any bonding. I did suffer, though. I was aware that both of my parents had an incredible impact on my life – my difficulties being happy, trusting friendships, being open, even relaxing. I didn't want to end up like either one of my them, virtually alone and unloved.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dr. Laura Schlessinger holds a postdoctoral certification in marriage and family therapy from USC and a license in marriage, family and child counseling from the state of California. She is the author of seven New York Times best-sellers, as well as four children’s books, and the host of an internationally syndicated radio program. She may be contacted by fax at (818) 461-5140, or by writing: Dr. Laura Schlessinger; P.O. Box 8120; Van Nuys, CA 91409.

Without going into much detail, my mom and I have never gotten along. As an adult I apologized for my smart mouth ways, but she eventually began to think of me as her shrink and babysitter. After dealing with enough drama my husband told her she was not welcome in our home again. Sometimes I feel bad since I do not know where she is (she would call me every once in a while to tell me she had disowned me and that according to her paperwork and will her daughter was dead) , but a sense of relief since my children no longer have to put up with the drama.

I remember having such fear of having a daughter, since I thought all mother/daughter relationships were so toxic. Yet, my daughter has always been my shadow.

Parts of her message are dead on but the superiority attitude turns people off.

I have to agree. Much more often than is necessary, she is flat-out mean. The meanness dilutes her message, IMHO. Maybe this is the legacy of her childhood. Sad.

I don't think its bashing at all. She can make sense sometimes, but their are those time (way too many) where she just goes off the deep end.

I personally stopped listening to her when she actually said that she agrees with the idea of parents arranging marriages for their children.

I'm sorry, but that is just too nutty for me to take this person seriously.

I mourned for my dad more than I ever imagined I would - or could. He was a wonderful man, and a fabulous dad- even if he was a bit cantankerous at times.

My mom and I are like oil and water in a lot of ways - yet we speak on the phone every day a couple of times a day.

There's much love in my family and I hope to pass that to my daughter.

Not everyone has wonderful families - I think it's important for people who don't to know it's ok to release it and you can still go on to great things - and be different with your own family - She's a great example of that.

Yes I used to. I found it comical that people would actually call her to be abused by that sanctimonious biatch.

Like I said, her message had some merit (not all in my opinion) but her superiority attitude (especially when her past was far from perfect) got to be too much.

I didn't read the whole thing. But she is an amazing woman, and so right on the money when it comes to raising children and relating to relatives.

OTOH, she has a grating manner, a sweet voice that is sharp as a knife... she reduces her callers to tears. I don't necessarily argue with those tactics... but a lot of people hate her, and that's probably why.

Starting just about the time this women was a girl going through her childhood a movement was sweeping the country whereby parents were being rethought as arbiters of morals, reason, propriety and even discipline; it was from this movement that Dr. Laura received her impetus and careered down the path of those pioneers who convinced us that child-rearing was an art and not an example leading her to where she is today.

She isn't sharing her past with us, she is justifying her own position as self-appointed expert and bad-mouthing her dad in the process just because she may feel her readership will identify with her and create a bond.

Teaching children isn't all that hard, un-teaching them is almost impossible.

Much more often than is necessary, she is flat-out mean. The meanness dilutes her message, IMHO.

IMHO too. One can give good, tough, advice without being a bitch. So her callers have less than perfect judgment. Lack of tact and good manners is no better.

"I just finished this book over the weekend and I can't tell you how much useful and wonderful information I got out of it...she captured so many things I have been trying to articulate to my significant other."

So, he's still not house-trained, is he?

There are a lot of people who don't have loving parents. Dr. Laura's message to them is don't screw up the relationship with your children because of your parents. A lot of people fall into that trap and you end up with generation after generation of bad parents.

You nailed it.

You obviously didn't listen that much, since she made it clear she was far from perfect. She frequently talked about her feminist-type ideas, and her not being all that religious as she was a young adult. I remember her mentioning that all the time. What'd you want her to give specifics? I'm sure she never even remembered those pictures. She talked about how she changed. I try to avoid cold people, and I don't believe she was. She gave people advice, that was sometimes strict, but usually warm. She had plenty of sympathy for people who needed it. Ironically, from your posts, you seem to be guilty of what you accuse her of.

It's been a long time since I listened to Dr. Laura. It just doesn't come on at a convenient time for me. But when I did listen to her, the people she scolded seriously needed someone to tell them they were responsible for their own problems, and to quit screwing up. So I don't blame her for doing it. After all, they asked her to do so.

However, I totally agree with your description of the people who tend to call her show, or get on Judge Judy, etc, or worst of all get on Jerry Springer. They are all pathetic. Although the Springer ones are far worse than the Dr. Laura ones. At least they are trying to learn how to make an effort.

I've got problems, like everyone else. Not one of them is half as serious as the ones Dr.Laura addresses every day. Yet there is no way on Earth I could get in front of a radio audience of millions, even anonymously, and describe them. Too humiliating. They are my personal problems, and I'll handle them or live with them, but surely not share them with strangers.

It was that she displayed such a morally superior attitude towards others. The fact that she had learned some tough lessons gave her standing when talking to others. The smug and holier than thou posturing turned me off.

Since she comes on after Rush (and everytime I try to adjust "the "boom box" I have difficulty Rush back on) I listen to her show frequently.

I don't think she is that rude or irritating, most of the time I wonder why she doesnt slap them more.

I was raised in a dysfunctional family by a couple of drunks. But I was fortunate in that they "dumped" me on my grandparents on every 3 or 4 day weekend and every vacation (be it Christmas/Easter or summer.)

My grandparents gave me the guidance that every young man needs (as well as the love that every child needs too).

For the last six years of my father's life I had no contact with him (other than finding nasty messages on my answering machine).

When my son called to tell me his grandfather had died, he was quite upset with me when I said "no loss, no report"...

Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.