Talk Feeleez

Really You Make It Smaller

Tonight helping Echo fall asleep, after round four of "Hush Little Baby", I suggested she close her eyes. She grumbled and complained. She said she hated night and wanted it to be morning already. I've heard this for the last several nights, it wasn't a a road I wanted to travel down, I just wanted her to fall asleep. For many nights now, before starting the lullabies she asks me if she is safe and in order to avoid the hour-later conversation about hating nighttime I usually spend a bit of earnest time describing to her just how safe she is. I mention her sturdy house, her strong parents, the watchful dogs, her safe town, and her parents' determination to do anything to protect their children. We had this conversation again tonight but it didn't prevent her from feeling scared later.

A couple rounds into the lullaby is not when I want to re-start a conversation of any kind with my daughter. I just want her to fall asleep. Most of the time I don't even have anything in particular I am in a rush to do after bedtime I just know it's bedtime and I want to get the job done. Other times I do have something I want to do and I want Echo to fall asleep quickly so that I don't fall asleep as well. The nine pm "nap" ruins my evening plans and energy every time. I just never recover all the way and find myself stumbling into the lit kitchen all befuddled. So of course I tried to reassure Echo she was safe and that falling asleep makes morning come more quickly but it all felt so empty. In my well-intentioned motherly way I was just trying to fix her problem long enough so that she'd fall asleep. I wasn't actually helping her.

So I went down the counter-intuitive path and really engaged her in exploring her scared feeling. I asked all kinds of questions about the feeling's size, shape, location, name, and weight. It turns out her scared feeling is shaped like a puzzle piece with a whale tail. It's heavy and dark purplish bluish. It is 1600 nights old. The feeling begins right after stories, disappears after she falls asleep, and then returns the next night right after stories. It is painful and the size of her chest. If she could grab it she'd throw it out the window and into the window of two guys she doesn't like. It doesn't have a name. She can't tell if its solid or airy and she can't smell it. 

This exploratory path is counter-intuive because it feels time consuming and it feels like I am making the problem even bigger by focusing on it. It feels more intuitive to shush lovingly and repeat assurances of safety. Detailing the terror with specifics seems ludicrous, unwise, and above all else, a postponement of the go-to-sleep goal. But here's the thing, after Echo answered all of my questions I asked her if the feeling was still there. She was silent for a moment, then she said.

"It's smaller! Much much smaller!"

Then I sang one more round of "Hush Little Baby" and even before I reached the end she was a limp sack of sleep.

In a general sense this is what always happens with feelings. If you honor them and feel them they break into mist and wisp away. If you try to avoid them or logic yourself or another out of them they stick like glue.

Someone close to me is struggling with another loved one about feelings. Person A is really irritated by Person B's emotional story and all the attention getting behavior and the LAST THING she wants to do is find and offer empathy to Person B because she fears that the emotions will just get bigger and steal more of the show than ever before. 

Isn't this a common scenario? I myself was bothered by Echo's feelings because I didn't want her to have them anymore, I just wanted her to fall asleep. So I tried logic ("you're completely safe honey", "morning will come quickly if you fall asleep") and fixes ("just close your eyes and think about things you like, like moving rocks at the river") and it didn't work. I didn't want to give her fears any attention because I didn't even want them around and certainly didn't want to make them any bigger by shining a spotlight on them.

I see parents every day that don't want their children's feelings to be there or get any bigger so they try methods of distraction, disdain, logic, and even tom foolery to get them out of the way. We think this might work because it feels more intuitive and regardless, we aren't willing to risk the consequences of stopping and really looking at what's going on. 

But our bedtime example makes the perfect case for just going right to the heart of things. The last two nights, with my reassurances and avoidance, it took Echo an hour and a half to fall asleep. Tonight after going full-boar into the fear it took her ten minutes. And of course, like icing on the cake, our connection as she fell asleep was like a glowing ember, rich and honey-colored. Instead of putting her off until sleep overcame her, I walked with her right through her fear and into a better place. Emotionally I never left her side.

If you can get around your own fears, irritation, or concern and pause for a moment with another person - right in the middle of their "stuff", unexpectedly you make that stuff (fear, pain, worry) get smaller. It takes some time in the moment to explore with them, but it saves time in the long run because, as the feeling dissipates, there is nothing left to address.Try it.

****************

p.s. The technique of delving right in and asking questions about an emotion's physical qualities etc. is a  classic Life Coaching technique. The first time I experienced it was when I was pregnant and losing my shit. Nathan pulled it out of his coaching hat and helped me find some relief. You can schedule an appointment with him for your own dose.

p.p.s I want to be clear about one thing. Looking closely at an emotion, with empathy and a clinical microscope of sorts is not the same thing as "juicing up" the emotion, stepping into that emotion yourself, or agreeing. Doing any of the following actually does have the ability of making the emotion worse/bigger. 

The difference would be:

"Tell me about that feeling. What's it like?"

vs.

Juicing up: "Oh man! You must be TERRIFIED! That's horrible! Let's think of all the SCARIEST things that happen at night!"

Stepping into: "Oh my god! Now you have ME freaked out! Let's hold each other because I am so scared now!"

Agreeing: "Oh yeah, I totally agree with you. Nighttime is the worst! You have every right to feel scared. You never know what is going to happen."

 

Genuine?

I did a post the other day about Friendly Brain, in which I shared my realization that our thoughts create our feelings and our feelings create/design our reality, like one big sandwich of cause and event with feelings as the meat. 

One of the comments to this post was:

Been thinking about another aspect. Nat, do you think there's a fine line between consciously influencing our thoughts to be more positive vs being un-genuine? I know that its healthy for our children to see our full range of emotions as long as they feel safe and loved through them. But where does that fit into our efforts to project the way we want to feel and downplaying the negative?

I think it boils down to the cart and the horse. If you find yourself having to sugar-coat your emotional state by downplaying the negative you've got the horse hooked up to the wrong end of the cart. The thoughts come first, so if you are feeling negatively it is because you have had a series (lifetime?) of negative thoughts previously that delivered you directly to your current emotional state.

Once arrived at the current moment I  think we do ourselves a disservice by ignoring our emotions or by faking other emotions. Feelings pass most quickly by giving them the breath and room to wear themselves out and away, and we certainly do our children right by demonstrating a healthy expression of emotion, BUT, there is quicksand waiting for a misstep here. The sandwich doesn't just have two slices of bread with the meat in between, there are layers and layers of meat and bread and they never stop, stretching behind us and towering forever into the future. Not only is this moment the creation of previous moments' thoughts, it is also the designer of the next moments, so it is imperative to be mindful of the thoughts we attach to our emotional state no matter what it is.

Example:

Echo is screaming and writhing on the floor, pissed off because I opened the dresser drawer when she wanted to do that part herself. I have to pee (it's first thing in the morning) and I am cold (I haven't gotten a chance to fully dress yet) and there is a time crunch ( a lunch box for the 2nd grader lies empty on the counter and the minutes are ticking by).

What I say out loud is: You were wanting to do that yourself huh? I just jumped right in and did it for you without even asking. You like doing it yourself because you just learned that skill, huh? Are you mad and sad?...(etc. etc.) You know Echo, I'm feeling pretty frustrated right now because you wanted my help and I am here to help. But you aren't getting dressed or even letting me help you. I'm cold and anxious about getting Xi's lunch made in time. Can we do this part a little more quickly?

The usual: empathy and information.

But meanwhile there is an internal dialog going on and it is either helpful (designing future moments of more agreeable emotions and events) or not helpful (ensuring a more difficult morning and emotional states).

Helpful thoughts: Wow, this is not how I'd like this to go. I am freezing. I am irritated. I don't know exactly what's happening for Echo but I'd sure like to help her, salvage this moment, go pee, get warm, and get us back on a harmonious path...

Not helpful thoughts: Fuck! Why do mornings always have to be so difficult? I am practically naked, freezing, while my three-year old yells at me. Moms get so much flack. I'm basically held captive here, when I'd rather be peeing, meeting my basic needs! Every morning Echo finds some reason to mistreat me. I'm sick of it. Now I'll be late putting the lunchbox together and here begins another stressful day. Ugh.

The helpful version includes self-empathy, and the intention to see this moment as only a moment not a template for the day, our life, or as an encapsulation of who Echo is as a person. The unhelpful version swerves way off into generalized thoughts that paint my life and my child in a dark ominous light, and dramatizes the scene so as to become nearly unbearable.

It's easy to see how these thoughts will generate very different emotional states.

The idea is to feel the emotion fully, but to stop there, without letting the feeling fuel a thought-story that screws up the next moment, the rest of your day, or your life.

The choice lies in the thoughts. 

At any given time there are numerous "truths" and thoughts that come along with those truths. Yesterday while climbing the stairs I noticed myself having these thoughts: Oh man. I am just so tired today. These stairs feel like a giant mountain...ugh. Then my conscious mind kicked in and I realized I didn't want to feel tired, to have an entire tired day, or for the stairs to feel insurmountable. So I reached for an empowering and equally true thought: I am so strong. My body is incredible, and I hate to sound too hoaky but my ascent became easy. I even skipped steps, feeling my quads working beautifully. It was instantaneous. 

Consciously designing your life through your thoughts (and subsequently your emotions) does not mean being un-genuine, it does not mean feeling mad but faking happy, it means reaching for thoughts, among a whole pile of genuine and true thoughts, and enjoying the fruits of that decision.

Does This Count as Hate Mail?

The latest issue of Mothering is out (sadly only as an online version since the magazine is transitioning to an online community instead. So sad.) and there were two letters about my article. f you haven't read it and want to, scroll down to yesterday's post. One letter was amazing and uplifting. The other? Well.. I kinda cringed when I read it. 

I was moved to tears by "Build an Emotionally Safe Home", by Natalie Christensen -- tears of frustration. If '"feelings are everything,' as the article's opening sentence states, then why should we parents whitewash our feelings and reactions toward our children? For me, cradling my sobbing baby and making comforting noises (something readers are advised against) is only natural. Telling her, "You seem so sad about x" (which the article recommends instead) falls flat. Praising her for getting through a potentially scary situation, like a trip to the dentist, feels right (though the article says I should resist doing this). Asking her instead t, "How was it for you?" (the recommended response) seems more like a caption for a New Yorker cartoon than a way to engage my child. I can't help it -- I parent with exclamation points!

The only bit of advice I agree with -- is last on the list, and flies in the face of all the tamping down the article recommends up to that point. "By expressing your own true emotions you can model what you'd like to see from her", Christensen writes. Excellent point! Well said! I agree! Oh, wait. Sorry. Ms. Christensen, how was it for you?

AMY LOVETT

Troy, New York

Yikes! All kinds of emotions came up for me when I read this, defensiveness and sadness were at the top of the list. Sadness I dispatched almost immediately, after all I kind of expected folks to be triggered by the article and putting my thoughts out there makes me fair game for criticism. The defensiveness was/is a little trickier. I do not believe that explaining myself to Amy Lovett from Troy, New York will improve matters between she and I. Her feathers are too ruffled to see my point of view (I am assuming) but a nagging concern as I thought about this throughout the day was that you, my dear readers might also be confused by a seeming contradiction.

Perhaps it's best to take this point by point.

First things first. Nothing in life, especially parenting, is completely either/or. I am saying that it is helpful to express your emotions and I am also saying its best to keep your opinions, often disguised as emotions, about your child's feelings and reactions, to yourself. This is not a contradiction. It makes common sense if you are considering the emotional well-being of the child.

Just as it would be harmful to express your emotions about your husband's mistress... one must NEVER say the following right?

Son: What's wrong Mommy?

Mother: Oh, honey, I'm just upset about Laura Knudsen. I hate that bitch! She has been sleeping with your father for three years and I JUST WANT TO KILL HER! I am so freaking pissed off right now!!!!

It is also harmful, in a different way, to share your feelings about your children's feelings. Though you may feel bothered, proud, or irked about how your son or daughter is handling a play date, a skinned knee, or a doctors appointment, it is not helpful to express it. It isn't helpful for their emotional development. That is to say if you want your home to be emotionally safe, a home where children are free to express the full range of their emotions you must remove your powerful, influential opinion from this particular arena.

There are COUNTLESS other opportunities for a parent to express themselves fully. Burnt toast, a parking ticket, love for their children, a sunny day, a gift, a good bowl of ice cream, you name it. Be emotional about your own life but stay out of their emotional life.

To address the letter's other specific points.

    Shushing.

I recommend against it. No I am not against comforting and cradling. I am against using words or sounds that indicate to the child that it is time to stop crying. If you can make a distinction between the two, or more importantly if your child is able to make the distinction between comforting and encouraging the end of sobbing, you can make any sounds you want. But what I fear is that too often the distinction, that crucial distinction, is blurred. A mother could easily justify controlling her child's emotions by conveniently shoving it under the umbrella of "comfort". And a child could easily confuse a comforting sound with a directive sound.

    Praising a child through a difficult situation.

There are no bones about it, I am completely and totally against this. I am not alone in my opinion on this one. There is science to back up the detriments of praise. If you haven't yet, please read Alfie Kohn's Unconditional Parenting. At the very least praise acts as a behavior modification (though not very well. Read Alfie!) and when it is applied toward a child's emotional behavior the results are decidedly not an emotionally safe environment. Praise means "good" and it doesn't take long for kids to figure out that if they are praised for one set of emotional behaviors, for instance being brave at the dentist, that that set of emotions is "good". Which also means, by kid logic, that other emotions are "not good", "bad", or simply "not pleasing to mom". If a child is having to do these calculations in their mind they are not in a safe emotional environment.

But let's look more closely at the dentist example. What is a parent really trying to say when they say: 

Good job! You did so good at the dentist today. You were so brave and I am so proud of you.

I do not think that parents are actually meaning to compliment the mechanics of the situation -- the child's physical ability to hold back tears, or sit in a chair, or open their mouths. So what is the good job they are supposedly doing? I think there are two causes for this phrase (or a combination of the two):

Option One. The parent appreciates the docile, quiet, behavior of the child. She feels so relieved that they made it out of the dentist appointment without major tears or a tantrum and wants to praise this behavior, to let her child know that this behavior worked well. The parent hopes to elicit this behavior again in the future by rewarding it with praise and affection now. This results in: Good job! 

This technique is possibly the most championed in the parenting world. I recommend against it because it doesn't work. (Please read Alfie!) I also recommend against it because no matter what the intention is behind these words they communicate that there is a spectrum of approval and disapproval for emotional behaviors.

Option Two: The parent feels overwhelmed with relief and happiness that the dentist appointment is over and that the child is okay. They feel intense love and a gush of affection and want to express that. This coctail of emotions in the heart of the parent results in: Good job!

A parental reaction of this sort makes perfect sense, and our society uses Good job! to communicate this reaction, so there is no wonder that a parent would reach for these words. But the hole a parent falls into when choosing to express these emotions with praise, or to comfort with praise, is that their words tell the child that not crying, that acting brave even when scared, is "good'. This is risky because it isn't a great leap for the child to then assume that crying, and acting/feeling scared are "bad", that to express these feelings is not a "good job".

What makes more sense to me is to ask the child how the appointment was for them before assuming anything and jumping straight to praise. And yes, perhaps the phrase "How was it for you?" does sound "like a caption for a New Yorker cartoon" but only if the parent is assuming the appointment was nightmarish, and only if the parent is a sarcastic and cynical one. If you truly do wonder if the child was scared, if they feel pain, if they feel happy about the new toothbrush-- if you really are curious about this then the phrase "How was it for you?" is authentic, and leaves room for the child to sort through their own reaction to a possibly intense experience. Under these circumstances the phrase becomes deeply considerate. 

Once the child's reaction has been ascertained, by all means "parent with exclamations". Express all of the feelings that prompted Good job in the first place.

Oh honey. I am so glad you had a good time. I was concerned you would be scared, so I'm relieved to know that you had fun. Oh I love you so much! Do you like the new toothbrush? It's very pink isn't it! 

Feel free to add exclamatory hugs and kisses as well. No matter what happened at the dentist.

 

 

All Feelings Are Okay, but Are All Expressions of Feelings Okay?

I've been thinking about something lately.

Bella has been with us for a good chunk of Winter break, and because they are children, scratch that, because they are people living in close quarters, playing within three feet of each other for days on end, there have been times when Bella has lost her temper and lashed out emotionally against her sisters.

As a side note, I mention Bella in particular, not because she is the only one to get mad, she isn't, but because she is the child least indoctrinated with our kind of parenting. Bella's mother moved to a town 200 hours away a few years ago and because of this, the logistics of parenting plans and snowy highway miles, we see her less than we'd like - every other weekend, and holidays. Because she is parented quite differently at her other home, I am particularly sensitive to how our reactions to her feelings, or in particular, our reaction to her expression of those feelings come across. 

In short Bella sometimes gets mad, and sometimes, instead of saying something like: HEY! I don't like your foot bonking into the doll I'm playing with! Will you please scoot over a bit?, she might use her body, or sarcasm, or a threat - basically all of the common reactions/expressions that ninety-eight percent of the population uses. Not often, but sometimes, she will use phrases like: Fine! Then I won't play with you! or, Oh, great, just when I had it all set up you ruined it!, maybe mixed in with a shove and a growl. By general family standards this is commonplace, normal, routine. But although it doesn't happen every time, and always less and less the more time she spends with us, in our house, a household so focused on empathy, patience, and honest expression, these phrases and actions are unsettling.

And here's the part I've been thinking about. When we talk to her about the way she is expressing her feelings the understanding she picks up is that the feeling itself is wrong, or at least not welcome here.

Oh dear.

No matter how clear we are: Bella, you are pretty mad huh? You really didn't like that. Echo didn't know her foot was bonking that doll and in any case you don't have to treat her that way. You can always just let her know how you are feeling and make a request... what she thinks we are saying is that her mad feelings are not founded or acceptable, and that she should feel something different. So the next time Echo's foot swerves toward the American Girl, Bella responds, not with an expressive request, but with a cinched down, boiling tea pot expression. And then she says: Fine. Go ahead. I don't care.

 But she does care.

And I care. If you've read this blog at all you have picked up the idea that I'd like feelings to be okay, celebrated, and at the very least, expressed. But here, one of our very own children is getting the opposite message.

It's tricky to even get it clear in my own mind. All feelings are okay, but not all expressions of those feelings? 

I want our girls to express their feelings without hurting anyone else's. I want them to feel safe expressing their feelings and know at the same time that others in her vicinity are physically safe as well. And beyond that, I want to be able to give them empathy even if I don't like how the feelings are coming out.

Those are lofty ideals and easy to imagine in theory, but the fact is, in practice, when we are mad, calmly stating, I am feeling really mad right now, and looking out for the emotional well-being of others is DIFFICULT. Motherfucker!, comes more easily. And I am speaking for myself here. If I find this difficult, as a emotionally mature thirty-four year old, what about a ten-year old? A sever-year old? A three-year old?

In the end, it must be a parent's job to be the bigger person and fight any immediate instinctual reactions in order to offer empathy first. No matter how ugly or offensive the particular emotional outburst might be. And then follow up with information (Your sister bonked you accidentally. Are you willing to talk to her first and make a request next time, instead of mistreating her like that?).

But if you aren't careful, ever so careful, you run the risk of sending an anti-feeling message instead. And from my own experience, taking extreme care still does not safeguard completely against accidentally communicating that some feelings are okay and others not.

It's a conundrum.

Scrolling through the archive I found this post about extreme empathy. Reading it was a helpful reminder. It talks about finding empathy for another person, even if they are acting like a complete asshole. Two helpful nuggets were:

• empathy does not not condone behavior
• empathy is a perspective not a prescription

And also that, by having empathy for someone that is acting in a disagreeable way you are not only doing them a favor. You are doing yourself a favor. You are giving yourself room to breathe, as well as an opportunity to relate to someone that you are in a relationship with.

I'd like to find a happy place, a sweet spot in which I support everyone's feelings, yet also support everyone else's right (including mine), to personal safety and humane treatment. I think it's possible. At the very least, it's good to remember that empathy is a proper accompaniment to either of these goals. 

 

 

 

A Visit to my Former Cookie Making Self

The cookies pictured below were made last year, but I woke up thinking about them this morning because we made them again this year. Only this year I ate less of the frosting, while I madly piped. That was helpful. I also had more of a system, each child manning a sprinkle shaker and a focus on mass production, not fine detail. It turns out I learned something from last year so I wanted to pull this post out and see what elese I might have learned. 

The post, it turns out, has nothing to do with cookies, no surprise there I guess, and everything to do with emotional honesty, even, or especially, during the holiday season. Today when I read it, a whole year later, I feel challenged by my one-year-younger self. Asking myself to be completely honest at this time of year feels hard, or if not difficult at least second or third to other priorities like preparing dinner at a reasonable hour or unearthing the stockings from our jam-packed storage unit.

For a second I felt like I'd gone soft, tossing emotional honesty under the bus of practicality, but on second thought I'm not so sure. I actually think I have to think about it less. Not only have I gotten better at overseeing young children and frosting, I've gotten better, over the years, at expressing myself honestly. It has become the way I operate. I don't need post-it reminders anymore.

I figured this was good news, perhaps even reassuring to those just starting to express their true hearts.

xo Natalie

 

We are in the thick of the holidays. A stressful time for many, we overspend and overdo. We also spend time with people and relatives that we ordinarily do not spend time with. I wonder if this is perhaps the most stressful part of all, attempting to please.

Smiling and gushing over a gift you do not like or even want in the house. Putting on a cheery face to open the door when really you'd rather run upstairs and cry on your bed. Swallowing the tears that come when Aunt Edna makes fun of your cooking. This is stress. Spending even a moment hiding yourself, who you are and how you feel, is stressful.

A long time ago my acupuncturist said to me that the upside of having allergies is that I would never have cancer. He's the kind of guy that says things like that without much explanation, but I was able to draw out of him that, in theory, your body is sneezing and coughing to rid itself of what it deems toxic. A body that absorbs anything it comes across, without a fight, will perhaps suffer in the long run by storing unhealthy material that then turns cancerous.

This is too simple I know. Cancer is heartbreaking. One of the most maddening things about cancer is that we don't know why some people get it and others do not. But I haven't forgotten this idea and I find myself trying to apply it to emotions.

What happens when you swallow tears instead of letting them run down your cheeks? When you let someone summarize who you are as a person based on a funny anecdote about you as a teenager? When you run around trying to be someone you are not? Where do these stifled feelings go? Maybe they simmer inside. Maybe they become sickness. Perhaps we can add avoiding major illness to the list of reasons to be emotionally true to oneself. So here's the guide for life, and especially for the holidays.

• Feel what you feel.
• Say what you mean.
• Mean what you say.
• Do only what you honestly want to do.

And, perhaps, this is easier - allow the same for your children.

• Let them cry in disappointment if they don't enjoy a gift, or expected something different. Even if the gift giver is watching.

Oh, you seem so sad. Were you expecting something else? You thought you knew what it was going to be and were so excited to open this gift, but it turned out to be something different and you're surprised and disappointed?

• Let them talk at the holiday dinner table. Even if it's off topic.

Just a second honey, let Grandpa finish his sentence and then you can tell him about hockey practice.

• Don't make them sit on Santa's lap at the mall when they say they'd rather not.

If there is a connection between mind and body, and I'm sure there is, give yourself, and your children this gift of emotional honesty. Don't stuff feelings and allow them to fester, let them flow through you, even during the holidays, even in front of the in-laws.

 

Regret, The Unwanted House Guest

I did an interview for mothering.com yesterday. I don't know if I have ever mentioned this but when we started Feeleez I imagined myself basically completely anonymous. Kris had this brilliant idea about teaching empathy to kids and wondered if I wanted to do the drawings for our game. That role fit my personality perfectly. I could draw inside the shelter of my own home while collaborating with two of my favorite people.

But the me in me that isn't shy and apparently has opinions, is always popping its little head out, revealing me further than I'd like and rendering me far more vulnerable than I would ever choose. It's pesky. 

Seemingly before I knew it I was writing a blog, detailing bits of my life and inner psyche I never would have imagined would see the light of day. And then yesterday I was almost all the way out there, no drawings to hide behind, no written word to do my speaking for me. At least it was radio and no one could see my yoga pants and hairy dog sweater, but it was definitely the most public I've been in a long time.

I prefer writing over speaking, not only because of that shy part of me, but because I suffer fewer regrets. I can read things over and make sure it's exactly what I wanted to present. When I am talking the words slip into ether as soon as they've left my mouth and I can't be quite sure if they are doing me any justice. Then later in the day snippets of my dialog drift past my vision, I see them floating there and fret. And regret. That I didn't say more, or didn't make my point crystal clear, completely unmistakable.

Overall I know it went swimmingly. But regret is a tricky feeling. It's one that the oldest girl in our family asked me to put on the Feeleez poster because she, with her firey, spontaneous nature, often does things that she wants to take back. 

It came up in the interview yesterday too. Parents feel regret. We read an article with new ideas and can't help but look back on our own parenting choices with a cringe. Or even looking back on one day we can feel regretful. Wishing we had responded differently when our child spilled the hamster food. Wishing we had stopped typing to read that story our boy asked for. And almost always wishing we had been more gentle and patient during the tooth brushing, bedtime routine so that they drifted off to sleep with sparkly love in the air instead of heavy irritation. 

It is so hard to feel this feeling. So hard.

We even try to parent so specifically, so consciously so as to avoid regret. But we can't. And I could stuff that not-shy me down deep, never let her out, never let her open her mouth. Maybe then I would avoid regret, the regret of not saying something exactly right. But I can't.  

We are doing our best. Our very best. I keep reminding myself that about the interview. I said what I said, I tried really hard, my intentions were golden. As parents we are doing our very best. We did what we did last year, yesterday, the day of the birth, we tried really hard and our intentions were golden. 

Today is a new day, with new opportunities and maybe we'll do things differently. Maybe not. 

But like any emotion, regret will visit again. If we try to stop it it will simply wait on the porch, or slip through a back window. We could stuff it into the basement but feelings just grow bigger down there, more menacing and potent. Not to mention that regret will just bust out later, during a dinner party or some other inopportune moment. No, its best to just welcome it in, hear its story and when it gets drowsy or tipsy, when we've had enough of its company, to escort it out the back door. Thumping the hood of its car in farewell as he pulls away from the curb.  

Cyber-empathy

My sister used this image in her blog today, used the title "In Pieces" and described her struggle with the day.

Today. I feel incompetent. Foolish. Behind. Anxious. Scared, maybe just Nervous. I feel mean. Cold. Angry. Biting. Today I do not like myself. My stupid boots. Shaggy pants. Limp hair. Taut mouth. Today my heart is in my stomach. And I didn’t poop. And my voice is weak. And I both yelled and cried on the street. Over nothing much actually. Just a little stress and a kink in the plan. How easily I was overcome. I didn’t put up a fight. Allowed the day to pass without joy. This poor Tuesday.
I prefer hard days to be well earned.
Tomorrow.

She lives far away, nine hours by car. At this point it might as well be on the other side of the Earth in terms of being able to physically see her, but she mentions things that make me curious, like "shaggy pants" and "stupid boots", little descriptions without a description that make me want to knock on her door and ask a million questions. Is she talking about dog hair? Is that why her pants are shaggy? Is it the Dansko boots she thinks are stupid? Because I've always thought those were just the cutest things ever...

But of course I can't knock on her door, in fact she didn't even answer her phone tonight, in truth she seldom does even on a fantastic day, and it doesn't matter what I think anyway. If you aren't feeling right, if your dial is turned to Shitty, then no boot is going to appear attractive, or useful, or good in any way, and reassurance by an outside body isn't helpful. I think my sister is the bees-knees, the yummiest, funniest, feels-good-to-my-soul lady in town, but that opinion is simply trivia, simply an opinion. An irrelevant one.

Solutions suck too. Recommendations and practical suggestions, blech.

So do stories that start with Oh, I had a day like that yesterday... or, Yeah, I've been totally PMSing too... Even if offers of chocolate and female camaraderie are made, hearing someone else's troubles when you can barely see through the veil of your own is no kind of balm.

She feels bad. Mean. Tired. Angry. Biting. Nervous. Anxious. Incompetent. Cold. Scared. Foolish. 

And I love her for spreading it out like that, for not couching it. For not worrying about our reaction to that kind of display so much that a watering down is necessary, or a platitude. Or two. 

I love honesty.

She's doing us a favor really, by revealing in this way. Of course I don't want her to feel horrible, would love her with empathy in person if I could. I guess cyber-empathy might look something like:

:( 

or:

Dang.

or:

Crap. That totally sucks.

And that might help. But in any case it's okay if it doesn't, I certainly don't need her to change. Feelings are feelings and by the time she sifts through them all and returns to the top of the pile they will have changed of their own accord. 

 

 

 

not fine

Echo is watching Peep and the Big Wide World this morning. We checked out a DVD from the library. As far as cartoon/t.v. things go it's not too bad. The themes are simple and innocent, there is science involved, and at the end there is a segment with real kids in real backyards. I love that part, the realness of the backyards. When the kids are playing hide and seek they are hiding behind the kind of detritus you might find in our backyard, stacked lumber, big buckets, random garden piles. I like it that the parents didn't rush around prettying up their house even though a t.v. crew was coming.

All in all  I don't cringe when she asks to watch it, but as I type on the computer, or stretch out on the yoga mat, the dialog filters into my brain and I end up disappointed. They aren't mean to each other, which is extraordinarily common in cartoons, and they don't sum things up with a trite moral conclusion, which I enjoy, but they do this other thing that bugs me. The characters pretend to not be feeling what they are indeed feeling.

When tiny little Chirp, the red girl bird, gets stuck in a tree, she tries to hide the fact that she is scared. She plays it down, like there is no real hurry to get her out of the tree. As an adult I can see that she is covering up, but Echo is three and takes things at face value. If Chirp says she isn't scared Echo believes her, even though Chirp's body language doesn't match up. She is learning to ignore cues, to accept duplicity.  And although masking emotions is something so many of us do, I wouldn't say it is preferable. The writers of this program have chosen to put themselves in a teaching role by describing the basic scientific nature of our environment, but they are missing the opportunity to teach kids about other things as well, most notably healthy emotional expression. It's a bummer.

I can imagine what it would be like if everyone simply said how they were feeling. I don't think I am going to make it to the dinner party, I've been feeling fat and insecure all day and I really want to just go home and take care of myself by soaking in a bath. But thanks so much for inviting me. It feels great to be invited. Instead of, Oh, it looks like I won't be able to make it tonight. I wish I could but I've got so much I've got to catch up on, but thanks any way! Somehow, along the way, we have decided it is better to lie about almost every single aspect of our emotional lives.

Why can't Chirp say she's scared? She's stuck in a tree! I certainly would feel scared in a similar situation. There is no comic payoff for her to lie about it, she could easily say something different without the arc of the episode being affected in any way. But Chirp isn't really a little red bird, she's a round ball animated by a couple people in a city somewhere. Her expressions come from some other people sitting around a table in an office, and those people probably cover up their feelings all day long as well.

I know I'm picky. I know I'm sensitive. But come on people! I'm sick of the smoke and mirrors. When your teenager comes home from school and you ask them how they are, sincerely hoping to get a peek inside the psyche of your beloved child, and they say, fine, even though their body is slumped and there are tear tracks down their cheeks, it won't be simply because they reached their teen years and parents aren't cool anymore. It will be because they have watched every single person in their life, and every single character on t.v., on the internet, and in movies, lie.

When we aren't truthful about what we are feeling we rob ourselves of the opportunity to authentically connect with the people around us. We prevent ourselves from receiving empathy. No matter how well intentioned our friends are they cannot have a real conversation with us if we are giving them false information. Most of us are starved for community and connection, it is something we want more than anything else. When we get it, we are ecstatic, our problems seem smaller and the world is a beautiful place. Unfortunately that doesn't happen very often, mostly due to the fact that from the very onset of every interaction we lie.

We don't have to be "fine", we can be sad, mad, blank, anxious, or we could even say "it's a long story". The people that care about us want to know the real answer. This isn't to say we are obliged to detail all the agonies of the last half hour to the bank teller, we aren't, but we can be truthful.

At the very least, please, if stuck in a tree and scared about it, admit it.