Tag Archives: empathy

The Censorship of Don’t

We’re walking back from school and I ask Bubbles about a forthcoming performance:

  • And how are you feeling about it, sweetie?” I ask (my tone packed with sing-song curiosity)
  • Scared” she replies meekly

And I nearly fall into a trap packed with good intentions. The trap of “Don’t”

Don’t

Parenting can feel like a string of Don’ts: Don’t touch the oven, Don’t throw your food, Don’t strangle your sister, Don’t put cornflakes down your pants for heaven’s sake, Don’t, Don’t, Don’t….

Some Don’ts are for safety, some for sanity, but why do I try and steer their emotions as well? I don’t mean to, I do it almost unconsciously:

  1. “What if it goes wrong?” – “It won’t go wrong, you’ve done all that hard work” [Don’t think that]
  2. “But my brother is super annoying” – “No, he’s not, you love him really” [Don’t say that]
  3. “I am rubbish at this” – “That’s not true, look at these correct answers” [Don’t believe that]

Yet in all these well-meant, half-conscious responses, I am stomping all over their feelings, denying their experiences, and not listening deeply enough to be influenced by what they are saying.They are pointing to some poo on the floor and I am pointing vigorously in the other direction instead, saying “Don’t Show Me That

Sometimes they get so frustrated at me that they tell me in no uncertain words that I am NOT. LISTENING. TO. THEM.

When Bubbles tells me “I am scared“, it tingles on the tip of my tongue: “Don’t be scared.”  But she already is.

Feelings Are Not Right or Wrong

Feelings are neither right nor wrong, they just are.

  • Would we say “don’t be sad” to someone who had just experienced a bereavement? No!
  • Would tell someone “don’t be happy” if they had just fallen in love? As if!

Whether Bubbles is scared, catatonic, doesn’t want to go, wants to go, is delirious, feels like puking, is ambivalent about it, whatever she is feeling is valid. It’s an expression of everything she has experienced in her life. And if I want her to know that she is loved, she is accepted, that she will always be loved whatever, then I need to let her know that whatever she is feeling is A. okay with me.

Be Curious

Instead, I lean in and get curious.

  • “Why are you scared, sweetie?” (more sing-song, no judgement)
  • “Because I am in a group with a boy who always stands in the wrong place”
  • “Oh… What could you do about that then?”

She has tangible and specific reasons that are stoking her fear that we now discuss. We talk about what she might be able to do about it, and I steer clear of giving her ready-made solutions and focus on asking her questions, to help her gain confidence in solving these things for herself.

By being curious, by being open, by letting her take the lead, this conversation gains a depth and a richness that would never have happened if I had fallen down the “Don’t Feel That” trap. We have a conversation that starts with fear, and ends with true connection, several fabulous ideas to solve it that she came up with all by herself, a sense of relief on both our parts, a big grin on her face and a lovely warm hug.

That is what you can create, if you don’t fall into the Censorship of Don’t.

(irony knows no bounds in this post).

 

 

 

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Get Off The Parenting Naughty Step!

It’s the end of a long day, when finally the battles over teeth cleaning (its just two minutes sweetie), hair brushing (I know its tangly, that’s why we need to brush it), getting into bed (you’re thirsty are you? again?), and back into bed (just take off your top if you are hot), and settling down to sleep (yes, I have left the light on in the bathroom, yes your teddies are all lined up in order, yes I have put the cat out) are over and you can settle down, put your feet up, drink you first hot cup of tea (what is it now honey?) that doesn’t go cold, and finish your “To Do” list by reflecting on the day.

Despite all the successes, the getting them dressed and to school/ nursery on time, the not-losing-it in Asda, the mostly empty plates, the mostly happy times, our mind is drawn, like a fly to one of those buzzing blue lights, to an incident. Something that didn’t go exactly to plan and it comes to blight our peace and remind us that we got it wrong.

And we put ourselves firmly on the Parenting Naughty Step.

STOP IT

It is all too easy to find ourselves lacking as parents. Because I guess that you, like me, like every other parent, is not the therapeutic parenting (TP) twin to Dan Hughes and Bruce Perry.

You might have read their books, absorbed the theory and then been a little disappointed that every so often you still f*ck it up. You lose the plot, your buttons get pressed, you are too tired and you focus on correction not connection, or get agitated not animated, or use the F word with them (and it wasn’t “Freddie”).

Welcome to my morning (without the F word). I slept okay and yet something triggered a grump. My kids, having seen the PACE poster drawn large on our wall, and overheard Andy and I encouraging each other, became a new, PACE-informed conscience in my life today

Remember Mummy” Nibbles said in a patronising tone that is disturbingly similar to my own “Play-fulness

#Busted

So after drop off, I walked and put myself on a virtual naughty step.

But it’s not just me who does this. Yesterday one of my twitter friends admitted that she was spending “precious me time in a cafe thinking about all the bad parenting choices I’ve made in the last 24hrs.” We tweeted and I think I cheered her up.

You are not alone in the self recrimination. But it’s not useful if it only makes us feel bad.  So let’s get off that darn step and change the script.

PLAYFULNESS

This is my favourite approach.

You get to play the “How could this be even WORSE?” game.  

Don’t let a tiny slip grab too much limelight. Make it seem like a bit-part, a walk-on extra in a more extravagant melodrama (think screaming match outside the Queen Vic). How? Create in your mind, a much more cringe-worthy situation. Play with the ideas and images, until they become ridiculous, silly, exaggerated, a game of bad parenting one-up-parentship

“You shouted at him? That’s nothing, I shouted so loudly that I knocked a picture off the wall next door, and my neighbour was on the radio for a phone-in about noisy neighbours, and the recording – you can hear me screaming like a banshee – is all over social media and I am so embarrassed and that’s just the start, 5 milliseconds later my mother-in-law rang me up to tell me what a terrible mother I am, then unfriended me on Facebook and I received a telegram uninviting me to the Royal Wedding, and and and we have run out of milk so I can’t even drown my sorrows in a cuppa. And the washing machine is on the blink. And the batteries have run out in the TV remote/ my vibrator.”

Think of the Four Yorkshiremen Sketch.

Or cheer yourself up watching some of the much more viral parenting fails on YouTube – search terms like “why you shouldn’t leave your kids with Sudocream” or “kids and sharpies” and smile that the indelible tattoos, whilst wiping your forehead and thinking “there by the grace of God..”

Now you are feeling a bit lighter about it, try a little..

ACCEPTANCE

Forgive yourself.

You are human after all (soundtrack: Only Human by Rag’n’Bone Man).  We all mess up sometimes. Unless you are Donald Trump, when you not only mess up every day, but tweet loudly to millions of people about it too (more playfulness, I hope you noticed).

It is totally normal to lose your cool, to sometimes tell your children what to do instead of asking them, or solve their problem instead of helping them work it out for themselves, to shout at them to “calm down” even though that phrase has never worked, not even once.

It is okay to be tired, to have run out of TP juice, to feel wrung out and run down, or to be firing on all cylinders and still fall into patterns of parenting that we experienced for years from our own parents, who were still doing the best they could given the circumstances.

You are not WonderMum or WonderDad. You are YOU.  Perfect in your imperfection. Fallible, human and you are doing AMAZING.

Get real. Yes you messed up, but let’s also accept how fab you are. List at least 3 ways in which you did a good or great or genius parenting job today. Because the chances are, over the day you were a good or great parent 95% of the time, and yet what are you focusing on? The 5%.  Yet if your child scored 95% on a test, I bet you would be over the moon.

Not enough? Move onto stage 3:

CURIOSITY

So the sh*t hit the fan today. And you fell off your parenting throne.

WHY?

Let’s get curious, put on our Holmesian deerstalkers and explore what exactly happened:

  • What was happening just before you lost it? Were you tired/ frustrated/ trying to do too many things at once? Be honest.
  • What triggered the incident? What specific word, action, inaction? Be precise.
  • Why did that push your buttons? What belief or identity did that situation challenge in your mind? What rules have you given yourself or your children that were broken? What inflexibility is tripping you up?
  • What did you want to happen instead? What would need to have been different for that to happen today instead of what did? Re-run the scene as-if you had been brilliant and see how differently you feel and how you might increase the chances of that outcome next time.

Look for how this moment in time is a gift. An opportunity to rewire something in your brain, to address something in your past. What can you learn about how you do things, or what you think about being a parent that you might want to change?

You may want to do this with your bestie or partner, so that they ask you questions to explore what happened and why it mattered and why you are beating yourself up.  In every situation we can learn something about ourselves (even if we chose not to).

EMPATHY

The final technique is to talk to yourself with empathy. Be your own bestie. Give yourself a break and be kind to yourself. Gentle. Forgiving.

“I can understand how upset you are, you want to be the best parent in every situation and you feel like you failed today / let your child down/ weren’t the parent you wanted to be.”

  • Instead of trying to distract yourself from how you are feeling (with wine, chocolates, TV, exercise), lean in. Go deep. Find what lies beneath in YOU.
  • Breathe. Long and slow. And again. Long and slow.
  • Close your eyes. Relax. Let go.
  • Feel with every fibre of your being.  Focus on the feeling, because you might find that underneath your initial feeling is something enlightening.

I was upset a few months ago and @mumdrah gave me permission to be sad, to feel it all, to be with that feeling instead of running away from it.  And under my sadness at an escalation, I realised I was truly scared about Bubbles’ future. My heart was breaking, worrying that if we didn’t manage to solve it, or improve things, that there would be bleakness ahead. 

That changed things for me.  It made me step up in a new way. Those tears were a gift.

There Is No Magic Bullet

When we are tired, exhausted, when something has broken, when we run short of energy, funds, fun; it is all too easy to blame ourselves for situations that escalate, that don’t go to plan.

But perhaps we should see those situations as GREAT. Because in each of those failures is the seed for our success.  As Edison might once said (it’s hard to be sure, since I wasn’t there)

You didn’t fail. You just found a way to not-parent.

  1. Be playful.
  2. Be accepting
  3. Be curious
  4. Be empathic

Forgive yourself. You are only human.

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Poster With P.A.C.E. principles in visual format

P.A.C.E. Yourself

P.A.C.E is an acronym that represents an approach to therapeutic parenting, as devised by Dan Hughes and it came to my attention as I searched for a way to help Bubbles.  I first dabbled in empathy (see my post Putting Out Fire With Fire).

That led me to read Dan’s book “Attachment Focused Parenting” which opened my eyes to a whole new approach and style of therapeutic parenting.

Bringing Andy Along

The poster started as a way to summarise the ideas from the book and various websites that I had visited. Then it grew from a rough sketch into something more.

And in its creation, I cemented what I knew (which wasn’t much) and added to it, because there is nothing like teaching (in poster form) to test your understanding of an acronym. As I explored P.A.C.E, and as our family struggled with the traditional approach to parenting, the ideas burrowed beneath my skin.

P.A.C.E. expresses four ideas (underscored with LOVE) that Dan (God in the eyes of many struggling adopters) Hughes has discovered over decades of working with families:

  1. Playfulness – being spontaneous, in the moment, using a sing-song storyvoice, learning to live and play in their worlds to defuse tension
  2. Acceptance – telling my children through words and importantly tone that I love and accept them, if not their behaviour, however angry or frustrated or annoyed or hyper they get.
  3. Curiosity – avoiding judgement and being open to discovering what they are feeling and why they feel that way, and being prepared to be influenced by what we hear. We step into their world for a moment, and dive deep to discover their truth.
  4. Empathy – by matching their intensity, tone and pace, by opening our hearts to reflect their feelings, we assure them that we are listening and that we are doing our best to understand. We look to understand them.

Work in Progress

It is a few years since we first encountered P.A.C.E and whilst we try our best, there are times when my tone is less than playful, when I am too exhausted to step into their world, when I am all out of empathy.

But having a reminder (the P.A.C.E. poster) on the kitchen  wall, helps to remind us of how we can parent on a good day.

Admitttedly, the other day, my daughter caught my frustrated tone and came out with this verbal reminder:

‘PLAYFUL, Mummy. Remember the P in P.A.C.E…’

The poster can be downloaded to print in A4 for personal use – for a small donation. Larger sizes for schools and for distribution can be purchased to embed therapeutic approaches – just get in touch

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Putting Out Fire With Fire

When emotions run high, when the screaming starts, when her feelings burst out of her body in cries or stomps or wails… I see red. Red for anger, for danger.

And I try to fight the fire with water. Soothing the flames with the cooling quench of water.  Taking the heat of the situation. It seems logical, but it doesn’t work.

Petrol On Her Fire

The most provoking thing I can ask my child is to “please calm down.” Worse still when I use a soft soothing tone. I am fighting her amygdala with cool, calm logic, without realising that those two parts of the brain are not on speaking terms.

When I do that, her anger increases, her cries get louder and things go from bad to OMG!

Fighting Fire With Fire

When I visited the Thrive lead at her school, she gave me some advice. Advice I had read a few hours earlier in Dan Hughes book “Attachment Focused Parenting” yet I was struggling to get my head around it.  She offered me practical examples, acting it out, and suddenly the light came on.  I could see how it might work (then felt the tears well up when I recognised my own inadequacy as a parent).

Perhaps there was something in it.

So after the visit, I tried it. Fighting fire with fire. Not exactly. I wasn’t reflecting back her anger or frustration, so the emotional element was removed. But I was copying her volume, her intensity, her pace and tone.

The Impact Surprised Me

My opportunity came soon enough…

He is SOOOOOO ANNNNNNOYING!!!!!!!!” she uttered crossly, after several months, still holding on at the top spot in the list of most commonly uttered phrases.

Before my meeting, I might have asked her curiously and gently “What is wrong?” or “Why do you say that” and received an exasperated “ARGHHH” in response as she stomped off brimming with stress.  But I didn’t.

I can see how annoyed you are” I said quickly, sharply, echoing her own tone and pace and moving closer to her. When she didn’t bite back, I carried on “Little brothers can be annoying.”

For once she didn’t bite back or spit out more anger. This was going well.

Let’s dance out our frustration together?” I suggested; my tone still intense, sharp, animated. I grabbed her hands whilst looking at her and commenced a pogo dance to de-stress.

We bounced a few times, then she looked at me and her face broke into a smile. And it was over before it even began.

Was It a Fluke?

After months of feeling like I was losing the battle for my daughter, for a happy family, this felt like a real achievement.

For the whole of last weekend, Andy and I responded with intensity when her brain dove into flight-fright-freeze mode.

  • I can see how frustrated you are
  • You are angry about this
  • I know you don’t like me
  • It is annoying, isn’t it?
  • Life can feel so unfair

Always short. Always fast delivery. Loud, but not shouting. Intense, but not emotional. Nine times out of ten, she responded well.

Within minutes the situation was calmer, and she would be out of the adrenaline-fuelled reptilian brain state.

Empathy

YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME” was spat with predictable regularity whenever Bubbles’ amygdala got in on the act. Even as I strained to hear every garbled noise that issues from her foaming mouth.

But not last weekend.

Her brain is not interested in logic or rational argument. It is not in play in these moments.  Her brain is reduced to emotions, and I wasn’t matching hers.  Her amygdala interpreted my lack of reaction, my soothing manner as not caring, as a disconnect between us, perhaps even as betrayal (a provocative word perhaps, but only through the filter of your logical brain).

How could I listen to what she was saying and not be moved, not be equally frustrated, not be similarly annoyed? Bubbles was searching for connection (isn’t that one of those tenets of trauma, that all behaviour is the search for connection?) and I wasn’t creating one.

But by matching her intensity, our connection was being forged rather than broken. She could feel the empathy in my response.

Connection Is Everything

Right now I feel I have been given a parenting upgrade, to version 2.1 (not the 3.0 I might desire but it’s going in the right direction).

I continue to work on matching her intensity, although I don’t always get it right and yesterday I fell into the trap of soothing, then had to ramp my intensity twice as far to recover the situation.

It seems to be working.

Wish me luck.

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