NATURE VS. NURTURE – DOES HARDSHIP MAKE YOU STRONGER? – Marilyn Armstrong

Fandango’s Provocative Question #20

Kelly Clarkson song leverages something originally attributed to Friedrich Nietzsche, who said, “That which does not kill us, makes us stronger.” That quote is attributed to the German philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche.

Anyway, the song got Fandango thinking about the validity of Nietzsche’s notion, so here is this week’s provocative question:

I have always hated being told: “That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

The people who spout it are usually people who have never experienced anything harder than a long walk with a foot blister. I particularly resent people who add “God” to the expression because if there’s one thing that could give me a strong anti-God point of view, the idea that he does this sort of thing as a kind of  “video game with us as the playing figures” is disgusting.

Does hardship make you stronger? Tougher? Or merely meaner? Does it make you more able to deal with the rough parts of your journey from birth to burial — or does it just turn you mean, angry, and depressive?

Depending on the person, his DNA, and natural “state,” perhaps it does all of the above in varying degrees. Certainly coddling children and making sure they never have to cope with the bumps and dings of “real” life won’t make them stronger.

I think it’s healthy to allow children to deal with reality as they mature because sooner or later, you won’t be there to fend off “the bad stuff.” So letting kids handle at least some of the difficult aspects of life helps them grow up and more importantly, helps them understand what it means to not be protected from everything. It’s always difficult to know when to let it go, let a child stand up for him or herself — or to take a hand in the matter. I suspect one ought to at least consult the kid about it. Some of them have strong feelings on the subject.

But that’s talking about intelligent, involved parents who are not desperately poor, lurking on the edge (or middle) of criminality, abuse, or worse.

So let’s roll this back a bit:
“Do abused children grow stronger?”

My answer? Sometimes, but let’s not count on it. Many abused kids grow up to be abusive parents and criminals. Others become psychiatrists, physicians, lawyers, police officers, or other caretakers. Or writers, artists, and teachers.

We make choices. We live by the choices we make.

The argument over “nature vs. nurture” in child development has been going on as long as I’ve been alive and has probably been going on since anyone had a family and could argue about it.

I used to be all about nurture, but watching children grow — the three in my terribly dysfunctional family, my son in mine, and his daughter in his … I’m inclining more towards a 60-40 nature-nurture split. Before Owen was a week old, he could push himself up on his arms and look around the room. I remember the doctor saying “Oh, this one is going to run you ragged!”

He didn’t run me ragged. He ran himself ragged. These days, kids with that kind of energy are instantly put on drugs because teachers want placid students. They don’t want energetic boys who need activity, not all day stuck behind a desk.

Does being DRUGGED from first grade make you stronger? I think it turns you into a druggie always looking for a better pill to solve your problems. Not to diminish the role Big Pharma has in the current mess, parents who allow themselves to be bullied into drugging their kids from first grade on shouldn’t be surprised if their kid grows up still looking for the right drug to fix everything.

There’s more than one person at whom we can point our fingers.

2010

I grew up in a family of three children with a child-molesting, abusive father — and a mother who simply could not believe things were as bad as they seemed. My brother built a life, but I don’t think he ever stopped being angry. His childhood had been torn away and the pain never left. But he managed to have a marriage that lasted from when he was 20 until he died.

My sister got mired in drugs and vanished into a world of chaos and I don’t even know what else. I haven’t seen her for years and no longer know if she is alive. I’m assuming if she had died, someone would have called me. The last time she was hospitalized, they found me, so I’m sure they’ll find me again if they need to.

2012

And then there’s me. I was probably the tough one. After growing up with my father, I was never afraid of anyone. I was probably just a little bit hostile in my earlier years, mellowing out somewhat as time has marched on. There are still a lot of areas regarding men and especially ANGRY men that push all of my buttons at the same time and I have a temper that I’ve spent a lifetime holding in check.

I worked hard and I don’t think anyone ever referred to me as “easy-going.” Did childhood make me tough? Or would I have been tough anyway?

I was always determined to do my own thing. Unlike many of my peers, parental pressure — really, any kind of bullying — has had little effect on me. On the other hand, coaxing, suggestions, and a fine editor have done wonders. I listen when people have good ideas. I’m always ready to try things a new way.

I think I was born this way.

I think if my mother had tried coddling me I’d have been out the door and miles away before she could call me home. I was also extremely responsible at a very early age. I recognized danger, didn’t do things that would get me killed or hurt anyone. I could (did) babysit for my sister when I was six and no one thought that odd because my brother was older, but I was more responsible.

So this is one of those “maybe yes and maybe not” answers. Nature — DNA and the way our particular helix is designed has more to do with how we turn out than parenting. But other things — manners, taste, and interests — come from our environment. Kids brought up with books read books. Kids whose mothers drag them to art museums learn to love art.

Energy, determination, will-power, and talent are gifts. What we do with them are 50-50 culture and DNA.

Now, let the arguments begin!

YOUR DOCTOR AND YOU – Marilyn Armstrong

Today is the fifth anniversary of when I went into Beth Israel for my heart surgery. I had found my own surgeon by looking for the one guy who had significant experience repairing (rather than replacing) heart valves. Of course, I had no idea a repair was out of the question for me. For that matter, I had no idea what was going on with my heart at all. Other than breathlessness (which I attributed to asthma) I had no symptoms.

I had a local “heart” doctor who had told me I should wait until I had serious symptoms and then do something. It turns out that the typical first symptom of this particular ailment is sudden cardiac death. But regardless, I did have the definite feeling that my doctor was not a good choice and boy, I was really right.

Picking a doctor is difficult. We all have issues. Some of us prefer a woman or a man. Some want their doctor to be an older person. But most of us simply want a doctor who listens, cares about us. We probably also want an office where we can get a prescription taken care of quickly without a hassle. We want our doctor to be associated with a good hospital and other physicians who are capable in their areas of expertise.

Beth Israel Hospital in Boston.

I’ve had doctors who were great … when you could get to see them. I had one really wonderful doctor who seemed to be going for the “permanently pregnant” award. She was always out having a baby or on maternity leave and as her family expanded, her hours of availability diminished to almost non-existent.

The next doctor was good but had the worst front office I’ve ever experienced. They could never get a prescription written in less than a week, but they got the bills out in nano-seconds. She was also the one who sent me to the nearly lethal heart “specialist.”

I never could forgive her for that. If I had followed those instructions, I’d have died. Her circle of specialists was pathetic. Most of the ones with whom I had contact were a retread from a different specialty. They had minimal training in their so-called specialty and they gave bad advice.

After that, there was the guy who never listened to anything I said. I had the feeling that he didn’t think women were worth listening to. More to the point, Garry disliked him and Garry rarely dislikes anyone.

The office

When we found our current family doctor, it was like a light had gone on in a previously dark house. He’s young and smart and thinks differently. He’s not afraid to give me a prescription, but he’s careful about all the other stuff I take. He knows I’m in pain and he’s always trying to find something that might help. So far, we’ve come up empty. There’s not much I can take that’s safe.

It’s amazing how much help you can get from ice packs and heating pads.

So what about the Hypertrophic Obstructive Myopathy I was talking about and why am I going on about it?

Because it is genetic and often —  in 1 out of 2 cases –is inherited from a parent. It often fails to be diagnosed properly. Even when it is diagnosed, the diagnosing physician frequently fails to tell the patient his or her kids need to be checked for symptoms too.

I had no symptoms that I noticed — which is not the same as not having symptoms. If it weren’t for my primary doctor’s alarm at the sounds my mitral valve was making, followed by testing at Beth Israel, my life would have ended five years ago.

If I had waited, my only serious symptom would have been my sudden death.

If you have something wrong with you — maybe something serious or you’re not sure — and you think maybe the doctor treating you isn’t getting you, isn’t listening, isn’t taking you seriously — get another doctor or at the very least, another opinion.

It can be worth your life.

A FINAL SPIKY TUESDAY – Garry Armstrong

Our final spiky Tuesday

I went out to drop off a package at FedEx and took a camera. Marilyn hasn’t been getting out much unless you count visiting the doctor and tests, so I feel an obligation to always have a camera with me.

It was coincidental but has a lot to do with fences and a general pointedness that’s part early spring in New England. Everything is poking up, but no leaves are out so everything is poky, pointy, and spiky.

Marilyn, having squared my pictures, has deemed this the right pictures du jour.

Photo: Garry Armstrong – at the place where they sell boats (it isn’t a marina … no water in sight!)
Photo Garry Armstrong – Pointy in Uxbridge. What IS that pile of dirt?
Photo: Garry Armstrong – More fencing around the boat store
Photo: Garry Armstrong – Well, I think it’s pointy!

SHARING THE WORLD AT THE END OF MARCH – Marilyn Armstrong

Share Your World 3-27-19

Did this month go fast or what? I swear it just streaked by! I need things to slow down a little bit!

What is the best pick me up that you know of?  To shake you out of the blues?

A great book, a good laugh, talking with a friend, writing something special. Any of these can work for me. But usually, finding the solution to whatever problem or other is stressing me is the only real solution!

What would be the title of your memoir? 

“The 12-Foot Teepee.” It’s available in paperback or on Kindle from Amazon.

Where do you like to go when you eat out?

Japanese or other Asian food. But especially sushi! Yum!

Do you believe in luck?

Well, yeah. Good luck, bad luck, no luck. Luck is just life!

Aside from necessities, what is one thing you couldn’t go a day without?

A laugh.