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FAMILIAR Vol 1, Iss 2..............................................................................................................................
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BEHIND
THE SCENES OF AN EMOTION LITERACY E-ZINE MISSION
STATEMENT THE FAMILIAR VOL. 1 ISS. 2. Missed an issue of the familiar? Click here to browse through our entire back-issue archive! |
my case against "it's okay" When my son reacts to an event with crying or yelling, other adults in the room often say, "It's okay." I get angry at their response, thinking that they are, unknowingly, undermining my efforts to raise an emotionally intelligent child. Just what does "it's okay" mean? I understand it to mean that whatever happened is not upsetting the person who is obviously upset. I see it as an attempt to prevent a child from expressing, therefore fully feeling, certain emotions, such as distress, sadness, anger, and rage. It sends the message that these emotions are not appropriate. So why do people say "it's okay"? What is the underlying need that saying these words fulfills for adults? Perhaps we are unable to accept a child's crying because we are unable to accept our own crying. We are uncomfortable with crying, partially because we rarely see others cry. How often have you seen an adult cry at work? On the bus? At the grocery store? In order to prepare children for the adult world, adults think that they must teach children to control their reactions. On the other hand, I propose that it is by embracing children’s' reactions, by responding lovingly to their crying and yelling, that we best prepare them for adulthood. Taking a child's response seriously, whether it be joy, anger, or sadness, tells the child that he is trustworthy, that the emotions he is experiencing are indeed present for him. A toddler wouldn't pretend to be enraged when he is actually happy. A toddler presents his honest emotional response, putting the ball in our court to help him explore what is happening. With my son, I have done this by first expressing empathy ("you seem really mad!"), and, when he is ready, to help him explore the emotion ("are you mad because the cat ran away?" or "did you want to keep playing with the cat?"). When these two needs are fulfilled, I can move to problem solving ("let's see if we can get the cat back in here by dragging this feather along the floor" or "I don't think the cat wants to play--how about getting out our paints?") If he is not ready for a suggestion, he makes that clear with more crying or yelling. In this case, I return to more empathy and exploration. I have learned to give my son lots of time in the first two steps. The summer he was nearing age two, he was often very upset when I made him leave the playground. I tried to prepare him for the inevitable departure by announcing "15 minutes," "10 minutes," etc. I tried to make a game out of kicking a ball home. I also tried to distract him by bringing his attention to the next fun thing that we were going to do, like going to pick up daddy or eating his favorite food for lunch. Nothing worked! He was overcome with grief and anger and could not hear what I was saying. We usually spent 5-10 minutes in empathy and exploration before we could get to action. My inner devil's advocate argues with me, "you're teaching your child to freak out over every little thing that happens." Indeed, sometimes the event that is setting off a raging storm seems trivial to me. Why does it matter if the apple is first cut then peeled, or first peeled then cut? How will my child ever learn to cope with a house fire, serious illness, the breakup of a marriage, or the death of a loved one if he freaks out over the preparation of an apple? I tell myself that it is the very fact that I take my child's emotions and desires as truth that prepares him to deal with bigger issues as an adult. If he is crying, I ask him if he is sad and he nods. I believe that he is sad. If he says he wants to push the elevator buttons, I believe that it is true that he wants to push the elevator buttons. I am not able to grant him all his desires--someone else may have already pushed the buttons when we arrive at the elevator. By helping him work through this disappointment, I show my son that he is honest and trustworthy. His emotions are valid. He is learning a process of self-acceptance, inner questioning, and problem solving. As a toddler, it is about pushing the elevator buttons. As an adult, it is about making major decisions that will impact the rest of your life and the rest of your community. Adults may also wish to hush a complaining child because they think that the child is blaming them for what is going wrong. They think that they have to choose between accepting blame (responding to the child's outrage) and denying blame (making the child be quiet). In truth, however, responding to the child's outrage does not mean accepting blame. I try to keep the focus on what's happening with the child and keep myself completely out of the picture. If my son accuses, "you cut the apple wrong," I ignore the implication that I did anything wrong. If I am upset about the accusation, I offer myself empathy ("this day is just not going as you planned") while I take one or two deep breaths. As I learn to focus on another person more and more, I need this emergency self-empathy less and less. Instead, I can launch right into "are you mad (not 'mad at me') because you wanted the apple peeled first?" A child who is frequently asked to shut off her emotions by being told "it's okay" may have trouble expressing her emotions as an adult. She may also have trouble accepting the expression of emotion from others. What I want from my husband is for him to express his inner-most secrets, his fears, his sadness, and his rage. Acting as if things are okay when they're not puts a barrier between our honest communication. In the same vein, if I am in distress, I don't want him to try to fix my problems. I don't want his protection, I want his support. What I wanted from my parents was the freedom to express my fears, sadness, and rage to them and to receive their support in doing so. So, how do I deal with the situation when other adults are telling my son "it's okay" when he is upset? I tend to my son. I sit down next to him and talk quietly to him. I do not feel that it is my job to chastise the other adults. Yes, I want to protect my son, but I feel I do that best by responding to him. The other adults can't help but see how I am responding. Perhaps they will try my type of response in the future. Perhaps not. My anger at their reaction turns to compassion when I realize that they may not be ready to become vulnerable. Being open to another's strong emotion can bring up the same emotion for us. I respect that, due to the unique circumstances of their lives, many people are unable to confront their own grief or rage. Perhaps I would not have been ready ten or five or even two years ago. What I'm hoping is that my son, having experienced this process from a very young age, will stay open to emotion at every age. I hope to raise a good husband and a good father. Holly Keinath Eckert is mother of Manuel (2 1/2) and wife of Rich (35). She is a free-lance violinist and music teacher in Seattle, and is the Co-Director of Northwest Attachment Parenting. Excerpted, with permission, from Kangaroo Kids (Volume 3, Issue 4) www.nw-ap.org.
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The
Familiar encourages you to explore your own use of language as a key |