Initiation Into Adulthood Quotes

Many abused children cling to the hope that growing up will bring escape and freedom. But the personality formed in the environment of coercive control is not well adapted to adult life. The survivor is left with fundamental problems in basic trust, autonomy, and initiative. She approaches the task of early adulthood――establishing independence and intimacy――burdened by major impairments in self-care, in cognition and in memory, in identity, and in the capacity to form stable relationships. She is still a prisoner of her childhood; attempting to create a new life, she reencounters the trauma.

Life is a process during which one initially gets less and less dependent, independent, and then more and more dependent.

Children who fail to learn basic love and trust at home are handicapped later in mastering the assertiveness, initiative, and autonomy that are the foundation of successful adulthood.

If we fail to provide boys with pro-social models of the transition to adulthood, they may construct their own. In some cases, gang initiation rituals, street racing, and random violence may be the result.

Funerals consist of older generations initiating the younger into another adulthood. Filling spaces of the one passed.

This was when he first suspected that the kindly child-loving God extolled by his headmistress might not exist. As it turned out, most major world events suggested the same. But for Theo’s sincerely godless generation, the question hasn’t come up. No one in his bright, plate-glass, forward-looking school ever asked him to pray, or sing an impenetrable cheery hymn. There’s no entity for him to doubt. His initiation, in front of the TV, before the dissolving towers, was intense but he adapted quickly. These days he scans the papers for fresh developments the way he might a listings magazine. As long as there’s nothing new, his mind is free. International terror, security cordons, preparations for war — these represent the steady state, the weather. Emerging into adult consciousness, this is the world he finds.

To figure out what students were carrying with them from kindergarten into adulthood, Chetty’s team turned to another possible explanation. In fourth and eighth grade, the students were rated by their teachers on some other qualities. Here’s a sample: Proactive: How often did they take initiative to ask questions, volunteer answers, seek information from books, and engage the teacher to learn outside class? Prosocial: How well did they get along and collaborate with peers? Disciplined: How effectively did they pay attention—and resist the impulse to disrupt the class? Determined: How consistently did they take on challenging problems, do more than the assigned work, and persist in the face of obstacles? When students were taught by more experienced kindergarten teachers, their fourth-grade teachers rated them higher on all four of these attributes. So did their eighth-grade teachers. The capacities to be proactive, prosocial, disciplined, and determined stayed with students longer—and ultimately proved more powerful—than early math and reading skills.

UNDERSTANDING DISSOCIATION Dissociation, like all other symptoms of C-PTSD, is a learned behavior that initially helped you cope with a threatening environment. A neglected or abused child will rely upon built-in, biological protection mechanisms for survival to “tune out” threatening experiences. In adulthood, dissociation becomes a well-maintained division between the part of you involved in keeping up with daily tasks of living and the part of you that is holding emotions of fear, shame, or anger.

Other cultures make a clear delineation between childhood and adulthood; there are rites of passages and initiation ceremonies to mark these transitions. People expect and are willing to expose young people to hardship and pain, because it helps them grow.

When I am in a situation where I feel uncomfortable about speaking but it is necessary for me to speak, or if I feel 'put on the spot' my voice sounds strained, really weird, and it feels as if I have no control over how I sound in these situations. Sometimes then my voice is barely audible and I am frequently asked to repeat myself. Attempts at speaking are often embarrassing, shaming experiences for me. I sound quite different when speaking with someone I am more relaxed with, but I don't like the way my voice sounds at the best of times; I was horrified when I heard a recording of myself. Because of this inhibition about speaking, I have never learned to project my voice or to use it effectively. I often feel that I could no more use my vocal cords to break a silence, to get somebody's attention or to initiate an interaction than I could run through fire or do something dangerous in my life.

My mother’s true appeal went beyond the clash of the beautiful trust fund darling as the arm candy of an overweight trailer salesman. Carl grew up in harsh, chaotic poverty. His escape was the alcoholism that was conceived during puberty and flourished throughout adulthood. His initial career was a diesel mechanic wearing faded coveralls with oil up his nails and sweat on his brow. His earliest homes were the dingy trailers he would later profit from. His first marriage was doused with benders, acid trips, and sex crazed parties packed with orgies with a first wife who’d lost track of number of dicks shoved down her throat in the midst of intoxication. I don’t know what sparked his revelation, but at some point, Carl decided to fiercely pursue the world he envied. He wanted a life of starched, white shirts, ties, SUVs, and picket fences. He ached for the scent of steaks grilling on his sunny patio. He dreamed of white-collar southern beauty and my mother, in all her naïve innocence, was the loveliest possession he could ever obtain.

In The Lucifer Effect, Philip Zimbardo, citing decades of research, details all of the ways that ordinary, average individuals—whether they be soldiers in Guatemala, doctors in Nazi Germany, Hutus in Rwanda—can be stripped of their values, their morality, their souls. After elaborating on the variables that contribute to this process—isolation, drug use, denying people identities—he declares that the most important variable, far and away more important than the others, is the fear of being excluded from the in-group. Manipulating this fear, he asserts, is the most effective way people are transformed from ordinary human beings into human beings capable of evil. We tend to associate the desire for acceptance by the in-group with high school, but according to Zimbardo, this need does not stop at adolescence but continues through adulthood. He cites people’s willingness to suffer painful and or humiliating initiation rites in return for acceptance in fraternities, cults, social clubs, or the military. When the desire to be included is coupled with the terror of being excluded, Zimbardo writes that it can cripple initiative, negate personal autonomy, and lead people to do virtually anything to avoid rejection. “Authorities can command total obedience not through punishment or rewards but by means of the double-edged weapon: the lure of acceptance coupled with the threat of rejection.

The truth is, the vanity of protective parents that I cited to the court goes beyond look-at-us-we’re-such-responsible-guardians. Our prohibitions also bulwark our self-importance. They fortify the construct that we adults are all initiates. By conceit, we have earned access to an unwritten Talmud whose soul-shattering content we are sworn to conceal from “innocents” for their own good. By pandering to this myth of the naïf, we service our own legend. Presumably we have looked the horror in the face, like staring into the naked eye of the sun, blistering into turbulent, corrupted creatures, enigmas even to ourselves. Gross with revelation, we would turn back the clock if we could, but there is no unknowing of this awful canon, no return to the blissfully insipid world of childhood, no choice but to shoulder this weighty black sagacity, whose finest purpose is to shelter our air-headed midgets from a glimpse of the abyss. The sacrifice is flatteringly tragic. The last thing we want to admit is that the forbidden fruit on which we have been gnawing since reaching the magic age of twenty-one is the same mealy Golden Delicious that we stuff into our children’s lunch boxes. The last thing we want to admit is that the bickering of the playground perfectly presages the machinations of the boardroom, that our social hierarchies are merely an extension of who got picked first for the kickball team, and that grown-ups still get divided into bullies and fatties and crybabies. What’s a kid to find out? Presumably we lord over them an exclusive deed to sex, but this pretense flies so fantastically in the face of fact that it must result from some conspiratorial group amnesia. To this day, some of my most intense sexual memories date back to before I was ten, as I have confided to you under the sheets in better days. No, they have sex, too. In truth, we are bigger, greedier versions of the same eating, shitting, rutting ruck, hell-bent on disguising from somebody, if only from a three-year-old, that pretty much all we do is eat and shit and rut. The secret is there is no secret. That is what we really wish to keep from our kids, and its suppression is the true collusion of adulthood, the pact we make, the Talmud we protect.

Yet, Wally’s lone hope represents a tiny force of resistance against the rising tide of risk. At the heart of his vision of the future lies a firm belief in equal opportunity, social solidarity, and risk-pooling. He also offers the possibility of a concept of self-worth and personhood that is founded on collective well-being rather than individual suffering. Across the United States and around the world, glimmers of opposition to privatization and deregulation can be found in newspapers, political debates, and policy initiatives.

Many abused children cling to the hope that growing up will bring escape and freedom. But the personality formed in the environment of coercive control is not well adapted to adult life. The survivor is left with fundamental problems in basic trust, autonomy, and initiative. She approaches the task of early adulthood establishing independence and intimacy burdened by major impairments in self-care, in cognition and in memory, in identity, and in the capacity to form stable relationships. She is still a prisoner of her childhood; attempting to create a new life, she reencounters the trauma.” ~ Judith Lewis Herman

By choosing to remain boys they did not have to undergo the pain of severing the too-tight bonds with mothers who had smothered them with unconditional care. They could just find women to care for them in the same way that their moms had. When women failed to be like Mom, they acted out. Initially, as a young militant feminist, I was thrilled to find a man who was not into being the patriarch. And even the task of dragging him kicking and screaming into adulthood seemed worthwhile. In the end I believed I would have an equal partner, love between peers. But the price I paid for wanting him to become an adult was that he traded in his boyish playfulness and became the macho man I had never wanted to be with. I was the target of his aggression, blamed for cajoling him into leaving boyhood behind, and blamed for his fears that he was not up to the task of being a man. By the time our relationship ended, I had blossomed into a fully self-actualized feminist woman but I had almost lost my faith in the transformative power of love. My heart was broken. I left the relationship fearful that our culture was not yet ready to affirm mutual love between free women and free men.

Most, like Cudjo, had never finished the initiations required in their cultures to pass into adulthood. Their desire to immediately re-create a form of government familiar to all of them—with a respected elder in charge and laws everyone agrees to obey—speaks to their powerful instinct to build a society apart from the Americans, white or Black. For the Africans, reassembling a piece of their homeland by living together as a village was a way to reclaim their identity and power. They created a place beyond the insults and ostracizing of Mobile society. They created a place where they could be and, more important, feel African. Unlike the American Black people, who had been born into slavery and never knew freedom or citizenship, the Africans had only been captive for five years. Most of them were from Bante, a large market town. Their families back home had been sophisticated businesspeople, accustomed to buying, selling, trading, and the experiences of earning money and owning land. In essence, unlike their newly emancipated American counterparts, the Africans already knew how to be free.

Initially, he was entranced by the professional investing industry that was blossoming as he entered adulthood. At the time of writing the Financial Analysts Journal article, Bogle was a young hotshot executive of Wellington, one of the oldest and largest mutual fund managers in America. But an odd combination of disaster and serendipity in the mid-1970s set him on the path to upending the industry he once venerated. “There’s nobody more religious than a convert,” observes Jim Riepe, one of Bogle’s closest colleagues in the founding of Vanguard, as a way of explaining the remarkable metamorphosis.

The student-teacher ratio at the Bahriji School was one to one. Most of the teachers were former Valets who returned after their University studies, to serve at the Bahriji School. Their strong affiliation with the Oasis inspired them to dedicate their careers to guiding E.R.O.S. juniors, assisting them in achieving the greatest success possible during their adolescent journeys to adulthood. Most of the school's teachers and professors were very accomplished, and of a high caliber. Their pedagogy was based on methods utilized in their own education. Personal grooming, health, diet and nutritional care were part of the curriculum. Just as the Valets were especially selected, our professors and teachers were carefully chosen. They were well groomed, and most had great personal flair, panache and style. Each was incredibly distinguished in his or her own way, possessing confidence and individualism. They were charming ladies and gentlemen.

Be the "Liker" “If you want to be liked, BE THE LIKER!” This was some of the best advice my enlightened mother ever gave me. Throughout my childhood, teen years, and adulthood, this golden nugget of simple wisdom empowered me to take personal responsibility for developing friendships. When you want to reach out, make new friends, and increase your likeability factor, step up and “like” others first. They will usually mirror your initiative and like you back.

Differences across social lines in schooling aspirations—initially those of parents and later those of children—are one of the ways the long shadow imprints itself on children's academic and personal development. This is one way stratification by family background is socially constructed: it is reinforced daily through life's experience and

As you continue to shift responsibilities and roles during the last years of high school, be sure to initiate honest dialogue with your kids. Something along the lines of "This is all new for me, as I know it is for you. Our roles are changing. We need one another differently, and we have different expectations about how we should be interacting during this shift to your adulthood. Let's be patient with one another and honest in a kind way. I'll tell you when you've crossed the line, and please do the same for me.

Another common narrative that we may come across in our journey towards self-acceptance is that ‘autism is a super power’, and articles online that read ‘Here are 20 super successful people with ADHD’. Although this may make some autistic ADHDers feel positive about themselves initially, it can have an unintended negative impact on others, as we can end up feeling like we can only be accepted by society as neurodivergent if we are the next Albert Einstein.

Mikulincer and Shaver created a model of attachment-system functioning and dynamics,4 which I’ve adapted into a flowchart showing how the different attachment experiences arise. First, if a child experiences a threat—whether perceived or actual, physical or emotional—they will try to find protection by seeking closeness to an attachment figure. If their attachment figure is available and responsive, and meets their needs, the child feels safe and can go back to playing or exploring. But if their attachment figure is unresponsive or inaccessible, and the child is left without a safe haven to turn to, they may adapt by either deactivating (turning down) or hyperactivating (turning up) their attachment needs. As children, when we feel afraid, threatened or in need, and seeking closeness with our parents is not a viable option because they’re not available or because turning towards them doesn’t make things better, we learn to rely more on ourselves. We become more self-reliant and we minimize our attachment needs. When we deactivate our attachment system, we suppress our attachment-based longings—not because we don’t still want closeness and connection, but in order to adapt and survive. If we experience discomfort or danger and closeness to a parent is still somewhat of a viable option, we might learn that we can get their attention by intensifying our attachment cries. If our caretakers did not respond to our initial bids, but ramping up our demands and hyperactivating our attachment system did get their attention in some form, we then learn that this is an effective strategy. Later in this chapter, we’ll talk about how these strategies—deactivating, hyperactivating, or vacillating between the two—relate to the three different insecure attachment styles. FIGURE 1.1 An adaptation of Mikulincer and Shaver’s model of attachment-system activation and functioning in adulthood.5

Lacking “cultural fathers” and rites of initiation, the youth today must turn to their personal father to provide them with initiation into adulthood. But unfortunately, not all fathers can supply their children with this guidance, for to do so, the father must be strong and independent himself and emotionally present in the child’s life. He must be able to show, by example, that there is something worth seeking and struggling for in this world; for to successfully encourage a young man to break from the comforts of childhood, he needs to be convinced there is somewhere worth going.

Guilt is a control program that causes laziness, postponement, and reincarnation. Sin is a lie. The idea that a bleeding man can take away your bad behavior is a massive lie that NEEDS TO STOP. Own your behavior. Grow up. Apologize. Apologizing is a form of dissolving “sin” and an initiation into adulthood. This is emotional intelligence.

Unfortunately, for many people the movement toward self-realization is disrupted due to neglect, rejection, abuse, or other forms of childhood trauma. The child subjected to this early wounding is unable to say: “My parent has personal problems which are having an effect on me”, but rather the child is only able to conclude that the world is unsafe. Hence, they become plagued by what Horney calls “basic anxiety” which initially renders them helpless and overwhelmed, but over time propels them to find ways to cope with life despite their fears. They develop what Horney calls unconscious “neurotic trends” which sculpt their personality so as to give them the semblance of safety in what is perceived to be a threatening environment. And when they emerge into adulthood these neurotic trends do not disappear, but rather they continue to influence their attitudes and behaviors and wreck havoc on their well-being. Rare is the individual who lives completely free from these unconscious relics leftover from childhood.