From the Inbox - Choosing Happiness Despite the Whining

 
From a recent email:

I just wanted to write to you about an issue that I've had trouble reconciling in my own mind.  It is the belief that I can choose to be happy.  I'm not sure if you can shed some light for me, but I'd really appreciate your opinion.
 
I know that a baby's cry is meant to produce anxiety in those who hear it, especially in attentive parents.  It is a baby's way of saying, I have a need and it is imperative that you respond to it now!  And I'd venture to say that as a child grows older, those cries turn into whines.  (In Australia we say whinges.)  An older child's needs might be expressed in a variety of ways, but an unmet need is usually expressed with actions or sounds that are uncomfortable for the parent to see or hear.  And that's a good thing!  It means that the parent is immediately aware that something is wrong with her child.
 
Are you with me so far?
 
I totally get what you've said in a number of ways on your blog about not needing to do anything about those expressions of need.  Sometimes just being there and available is enough.  Like your example of few days ago when you were making trips back and forth to the van as your daughters were fighting.  But despite not doing anything, you absolutely had to have been affected by their actions.  Were you?  Or were you able instead to suppress the anxiety that those actions were designed to produce?
 
I'm also conscious of authenticity.  I do not want my five year old to pretend to be happy or polite or well-socialised.  I want him to be five.  I want him to tell me how he really feels.  But when his actions/words/feelings are mostly negative, it is very tempting to tell him that I don't want to hear it anymore.  I want to focus on the positive.
 
As I've said before, I completed the Circle of Security course, which teaches parents how to effectively respond to their children's needs.  I'm just having so much trouble remaining happy within myself whilst at the same time responding to my children's whines.  I so often feel if I breathe and instead turn my attention to the beautiful weather, that I'm somehow stepping off the Circle.
 
I want so badly to be happy.  I want it more than anything.  And I feel like I am usually a very happy person.  But, throughout the day, when I've been bombarded with complaints, aggression, and lack of cooperation, it is REALLY hard to stay happy.

 

My answer:

The short answer is that YES I am affected by the sounds my children make. The sounds they make while fighting, or even when they are about to fight, make my heart race and my armpits sweat. My face grimaces and everything takes on a dark and gloomy hue. I despair. Sometimes the sounds Echo makes when she is dissatisfied or bored or tired push my internal annoyance button and I flash red. And if I am already bothered by something, practically any request from my children, whether in a whiny tone or not, makes my feelings spike so sharply that I want to bite their heads off at the neck.

Absolutely.

In the case of the fighting in the van, the sounds they were making were very upsetting, especially at the end of a hot day with work yet to get done. But the sounds they were making were not directed at me. They didn't actually need or want anything from me so it made sense for me to step away and turn my focus toward pleasing thoughts and images. I was not "stepping off the circle" I was stepping toward better feelings, knowing that in doing so if they needed my help later I would be better equipped to deal. 

That being said there are times when my girls are making sounds that are displeasing when they do need my help, and in fact are directing those very sounds into my face. And it's hard. Harder, of course than when they are making those sounds to one another. 

My response is many-fold. I stay there of course, holding and listening. And when I feel myself getting pulled in, when I can feel my emotions rising and the sweat prickling, I remember: My state of emotions is, or can be, separate from what is happening. It sounds like mental voodoo, and it is. It literally is choosing to step into a stout belief that my happiness is within my own power. I imagine two worlds. One is my state of emotions directly inspired by my thoughts. The other is everything that is actually happening. And there is a thin film that separates the two. When I believe my belief the film is impenetrable. When I doubt it, or don't want to believe it, the film disintegrates and I am at the complete mercy of circumstances.

So when Echo is whining and tugging at me and discontent, I remember that my feelings need have nothing to do with hers. I listen and empathize but I leave the film in place. I maintain my world of emotions while addressing hers. It is remarkably helpful to consider the two worlds as separate because otherwise my outlook is desperate. When she is whining and I allow myself to link her behavior with how I feel, I imagine a day of extreme difficulty. I imagine constant fighting, and screaming at the market, and no chores or work getting done, and no hope for peace, and a day that stretches interminably onward. These thoughts leave me almost incapable of "being there" for Echo. I am so annoyed that I could scream myself. I am so mad at her for "ruinning" my day that I don't want to give her even a second of my time. 

But if I leave the film in place she can do/be/say anything she likes. I pull a piece of my mind out and breathe and think of something pleasant. I emotionally multi-task. I need not cry, scream, and whine in order for her to feel supported by me. I can simply listen and troubleshoot and hold, and all the while part of my mind is noticing the breeze and remembering the good news I just heard or anything else that feels good. Echo is not the director of my feelings. She has her own and if I take care of mine I am better equipped to help her with hers.

Authenticity is not an issue. It is precisely because I am noticing my feelings that I can even think to turn my thoughts elsewhere. I am not suppressing a single thing. I am training myself to be so well tuned to my emotions that when they move in a direction I do not enjoy I see them, wave at them, notice them, and then turn my thoughts, so that I can feel better. I genuinely feel, I purposely think, and I genuinely feel. Again and again and again all day, every day.

But back to the whining child scenario. There are practical considerations. When Echo is making sounds (I use her as an example because she is younger and thus making those particularly cringeful sounds more often than the other girls) that I don't like and I am earnestly trying to maintain the film between our two emotional worlds but still struggling, I simply ask her to talk to me differently. Now let's be careful here. I do not ask her to feel differently. I do not ask her to be different. I make every effort I can to indicate that I am simply struggling a bit and need her help. It looks something like this: Echo sweet love, I see you're really upset. I am going to help you. I am here and I will help you. But I am having a hard time with the way you are talking to me. WIll you please switch to a different tone?

 I avoid:

• Calm down.
• Shushhhhh 
• It's okay. It's okay.
• Stop whining.

I make no judgement of what tone she is using I just ask for a different one. Lately I've been particlarly annoyed when she asks me to do something by demanding in a whiny tone. I say: Echo I like to be asked. I don't want to do anything for you when you talk to me like that. And she says: I'm just sad! That's why I am talking like that! And I say: Be sad! Definitely be sad. That's fine, but if you want me to do something will you be sad at the same time as switching to a softer tone and asking instead of demanding? It just feels so much better to me.

Sometimes there is the practical matter of not being able to understand her when she's whining. So again I make no judgement of her feelings I simply ask her to speak in a way I can understand. I see you're super upset. You're really mad, huh? Will you talk differently so that I can understand what you are saying. I have no idea what words you are saying. 

When a child has a negative perspective I can understand the desire to tell them you don't want to hear it anymore, that you are focusing on the positive. This is possible, in a matter of speaking, by become less of an audience, less of a satisfying audience. Instead of saying I don't want to hear it, make yourself more boring to tell. Imagine that friend that always calls to share bad news, now imagine how much less that friend would call if you were a poor "bad news receiver". If you responded with positive spins on all of the things she called to relate, or if you didn't engage as actively as normal, she wouldn't want to relate those things anymore. It wouldn't be as fun or satisfying for her. You can do this with your kids too. After separating your child's feelings from a general negative perspective or negative re-telling of the day, you can become a less engaging audience in that regard. 

But more importantly, EDUCATE. All of the things that you are learning about creating your own reality, managing your own happiness despite circumstances, can be explained to your children as well. Describe how a woe-is-me outlook more often than not creates more woe. Last night, without any prompting from me, Echo declared: Mom! I thought of a lot of good things and now my knee feels better! There used to be a scrape but then I thought of having a pony and my grandpa and swimming in the river with Elliott and now, look! There is almost no scrape at all! It is never to early to teach the power of thought and it's effect on everything - from skinned knees to feelings.

Also, if you find that your children, friends, and neighbors are constantly bringing their dire perspective to you, that is a good indicator that you are still having negative thoughts yourself. Like attracts like. So use this as a friendly reminder to turn your thoughts. Again.

You can make yourself crazy trying to watch your thoughts but luckily feelings follow those thoughts. It's easier to recognize that you don't feel well and turn your thoughts than it is to watch every thought. 

When I first began to consciously direct my thoughts I went through a fairly serious mourning period. When I felt myself becoming sad or discontent I remembered my task, to think of something else, but I was so bummed because that meant I wouldn't feel sad anymore. I had to mourn those feelings. I had grown to enjoy my morose moods, in a way. I liked crying and moping and blaming. I liked feeling bad. The problem is that I couldn't feel good at the same time and I couldn't attract/create good things for me and my family while feeling bad. 

So at first it was an act of mental strength to turn from the well-worn and comforting path of sadness and discontent. I had to forcibly jam new thoughts into my head. But the thing is, is that those thoughts worked. I became happier. I no longer was bummed I didn't go down that trusty sad path because I was too busy feeling good.

It still is a mental exercise, a challenge to my strength to purposely turn toward good thoughts when my world isn't behaving the way I'd like. But it's getting much easier. In fact I am so accustomed to feeling better now that when my mood swerves I notice immediately. I can even track it back to the very thought that caused the swerve. I notice right away and because of that there is less effort needed to get me back on track. Whereas before I was thinking my way all the way from the back pasture to the road, now I only have to think myself off the shoulder of the road and back to the center line. 

If you want happiness, think yourself toward it. Parent with your eyes trained toward it. Expect it and don't let anyone, even your child's craziest antics or loudest screams, yank you away from it. It's entirely up to you.

Comments

[Kristanne]

Gosh, Nat. Thank you. This was very helpful. I've just got to remember the film! And I've got to remember that purposeful thoughts lead to genuine feelings. I guess I'm at that point of needing major mental strength to turn back towards the centre line. It's not easy, but I certainly want so much to reap the benefits!

[Jennifer]

Yes, yes. Thank you for spelling this process out so clearly. I can really hang on to lines like, "Echo is not the director of my feelings." There are a lot of thoughts in here that can be used like mantras. And I love the visual of the thin film of separation.

So happy for you that you have achieved such happiness in your life. :)

[Martha]

I've been pondering this post since I read it about a week ago. It's hard for me to keep my reactive emotions out of the mix when things get stressful with my son. I get tired. I feel fried sometimes. It's hard to manage the notion of the film when my energies are low. But it's helpful to even think that there's an option to overwhelming-seeming stress. I printed out parts of this to have with me and simply reference. Thanks for the thought-provokign post. Any chance your blog engine allows you to create a 'print this post' option?

[Natalie]

Hi Martha, I always love hearing from you. I haven't yet found a "print this post" option but I'll keep looking.