Tag: child stars

Child Stars

I heard an interesting advertisement for a podcast on the radio yesterday. The people on the podcast were talking about the fact that Generation Z are the first generation to have had all of their growing up “moments” plastered all over the internet on social media platforms like Facebook, and Instagram, and now TikTok, and how upsetting and embarrassing this can be for some kids, especially those that had their “cute/silly/funny/outrageous” posts go viral, and now having people curious to see them as “grown-ups.” The woman heading the podcast was questioning how many of us in the older generations would have wanted “those moments” (i.e., bathtub pictures, temper tantrums, crazy falls, etc.) that a few of our family members had on VHS tape, to be visible for anyone in the world who wanted to view it.

There are a lot of ramifications to how quickly our technology is advancing. And it is interesting that in some areas, we are only now starting to see and to discuss the effects of earlier technological advancements. I was strolling along a beautiful beach last weekend and I was noticing many, many young people sitting on the beach, posing themselves in all different contortions and taking photo after photo of themselves with their phones. (It seems like all kids these days, have their portfolio of “poses” down pat.) All of the while we were on a gorgeous white sand beach, on an extraordinarily beautiful day, with the water being at it’s-just-refreshingly-right-before-it-gets-to-be-lukewarm temperature. Have we conditioned all of our kids to be “child stars”? How often have actual “child stars” ended up with disastrous adult lives? How many of us would have chosen to shield our children from becoming actual Hollywood child actors?

It is interesting that at a time that technology is moving at seemingly the speed of light, there has also been a big movement towards conscious, be-in-the-NOW living, versus conditioned living. There is something inside of all of us, that seems to be screaming, “Let’s slow down. Let’s consider what is happening. Let’s notice what this feels like, and consider its ramifications. Let’s make conscious, deliberate, thought-out choices. We don’t have to move at the speed of discovery just because we can.”

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

iJennette

I read a fascinating book yesterday. I couldn’t put it down. It is the first time in a while in which I have read an entire book in one day. The book just came out and it is called I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy. Jennette McCurdy is a (now grown) child star who is best known as the character “Sam” on the Nickelodeon hit “iCarly.” My kids loved watching that TV show growing up, and I personally always enjoyed the character of “Sam” the best. However, the book makes it abundantly clear that Jennette doesn’t like “Sam” at all. I’m Glad My Mom Died is a memoir of what it was like to be a little girl forced into child acting, by an overbearing, abusive, narcissistic stage mom, in order to live out the unfulfilled dreams of her own mother. Jennette comes into her adulthood, realizing that she never liked being an actress at all. Jennette comes into adulthood realizing that her entire childhood was spent hoping to make her extremely difficult to please and sickly mother, happy. Jennette feels robbed of her childhood, her adolescence and her very own sense of self. The book is a brutally honest, frank, often funny, yet frequently sad memoir, leaving the reader with hope that Jennette can come into her true self, in a healthy way, leaving the ghosts of her past behind. (Warning the book is explicit, and may hold triggers for people, including candid accounts of abuse, sexual encounters and eating disorders.)

For my fellow writers who read my blog, you will definitely relate to this excerpt from the book:

“I absolutely prefer writing to acting. Through writing, I feel power for maybe the first time in my life. I don’t have to say anybody else’s words. I can write my own. I can be myself for once. I like the privacy of it. Nobody’s watching. Nobody’s judging. Nobody’s weighing in. No casting directors or agents or managers or directors or Mom. Just me and the page. Writing is the opposite of performing to me. Performing feels inherently fake. Writing feels inherently real.”

And chapter 91 was perhaps the most brutally honest chapter of the book, yet incredibly insightful. Jennette writes:

“Why do we romanticize the dead? Why can’t we be honest about them? Especially moms. They’re the most romanticized of anyone. . . . My mom didn’t deserve her pedestal. She was a narcissist. She refused to admit she had any problems, despite how destructive those problems were to our entire family. My mom emotionally, mentally, and physically abused me in ways that will forever impact me. . . . Her death left me more questions than answers, more pain than healing, and many layers of grief – the initial grief from her passing, then the grief of accepting her abuse and exploitation of me, and finally the grief that surfaces now when I miss her and start to cry . . . . Sometimes when I miss her I start to fantasize what life would be like if she were alive and I imagine that she’d have apologized, and we’d have wept in each other’s arms and promised each other we’d start fresh. Maybe she’d support me having my own identity, my own hopes and dreams and pursuits.

But then I just realize I’m just romanticizing the dead in the same way I wish everyone else wouldn’t.

Mom made it very clear she had no interest in changing. If she were still alive, she’d still be trying her best to manipulate me into being who she wants me to be.”

Two of my absolute favorite activities in this world are reading and writing. I am not sure which I like better, but I do know that they go hand-in-hand. I’m so grateful for the written word.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.