It is the things I say when I am exhausted and under stress that I must remember later and pay close attention to. Those are the moments when my guard is down and I can finally hear the fears that lie so deep that I’m unwilling to admit they exist when I am in a calmer frame of mind. The one that surfaced this past week was when I heard myself say to Howard “I’m afraid I’m going to get this parenting thing wrong.”
Logic tells me that I’m not and that I won’t. Yet the fear is real and its existence shapes my reactions to a host of events. Because of the fear, I am highly sensitive to anything said or read which supports the theory that I’m making parenting errors, even if that is not at all what the speaker or writer intended. My fear layers on extra implications to the words of others.
The place I’m currently seeing this is my foray into psychology. I’ve been doing reading and have had the chance to visit with both a psychologist and a psychiatrist in hopes of figuring out why my usual means were not enough to help my daughter with her anxiety. It seemed that I was not able to do enough on my own. Except then the troubles all but vanished, and they did so before any of the new interventions had enough time to be effective. It is hard to claim that therapy helped my child when the anxiety abated three days before therapy began. Unless the fact that there was going to be therapy was a sufficient fix. I’m left as clueless as I began, not knowing why my methods where not working, not knowing what suddenly did. I really want to have something repeatable. Instead it feels like if the anxiety swells again I’ll be thrashing about in the dark again.
On the first appointment, the therapist talked about the importance of setting up consequences and applying them consistently. Part of me was agreeing completely. I could see some structures and consequences which, if applied, would resolve some repeating conflicts in our house. I let that part of me control my face. I nodded and took notes, making plans to apply at home. Another part of me was resentful. I already knew this. I’ve already done this. Yes it works, but I wear out and fail to maintain it. I’d hoped for new solutions and the therapist was suggesting long-familiar ones which depended upon a significant commitment of energy from me. I had to be willing to spend that energy no matter what other demands had been placed on me that day and no matter how exhausted I was. The resentful part of me did not want to be asked to do more.
Then there was the wailing little voice in the core of me who was only able to hear that my daughter’s troubles are all due to my failures of parenting. I’m not completely consistent. I am great at creating structures that encourage growth and discourage unwanted behavior. I have learned over the years to try to create structures that function with as little maintenance from me as possible, but I still fail to maintain them. I allow them to fall apart because I’m too tired or busy to enforce. Thus a time limitation on playing Minecraft–which is valuable and useful in encouraging the kids to explore other interests–somehow morphs into them coming home from school and playing Minecraft until dinner time. The therapist says that consistent rules and consequences make a difference, and I know that she’s right, but deep inside I hear “You would not be having this problem if you hadn’t failed at rules and consequences. You already knew this and you failed at it.”
My logical brain tells me that I’m doing fine, that even when things slip, we pick up and rebuild. I tell myself that circling around is the best anyone can do, that no one can be perfect all the time, that over the long haul it is the average patterns that matter most. But my logic brain also knows that the way we live has been teaching my kids that rules will relax if they just wait it out. I’m not sure that is a good lesson, but it is one they definitely know. My logic brain also knows that I’m doing the best I can and I should cut myself some slack. I’m not consistent, and I’m not sure I can be, and it may be that the best I can do is not good enough. This certainly seemed to be the case with my daughter’s anxiety.
One solution I’ve been applying to this dilemma is to turn my kids lives over to them as much as I possibly can. I build structures that emphasize taking responsibility for choices. I offer them as much control as I can reasonably give them for their age. Empowering children is a good thing because it acknowledges the importance of free agency in human existence. The choices my twelve year old makes have far more power over who she will become than the choices I make for her. Or so I want to believe, because then it is not completely my fault if some disaster lays in the future. If I am not solely responsible, then it is okay for me to rest. It is okay for me to let down my guard, and I am exhausted from the quantity of on-duty time I’ve been assigning to myself lately.
A very wise friend once told me that all parents get it wrong. Every single last one of us. I guess then the goal is not to prevent making mistakes but to get it wrong and move on. All I can hope to do is get things less wrong each time I circle around and rebuild the systems that have fallen apart. I have to accept that not only am I unable to predict and fix the challenges of my loved ones, but that I am not supposed to. Their struggles are not about me nor my parenting. I need to acknowledge my fears and let them go, because yes I’m going to get it wrong. Again and again I’ll get it wrong. Yet somehow my kids grow strong and bright despite my failings. I must spend less time trying to figure out why things happened and how I could prevent them from repeating, and spend more time just responding to the needs of each day.
Or maybe I just need to get more sleep and exercise so that I spend less time angsting over whether or not I’m a good parent and spend more time just enjoying the fact that I am one.
Would it be helpful for your child to have an anxiety journal to track when it comes and goes? Maybe a calendar with colors assigned to 1-5 that she can shade in at the end of the day. That way you could tell if it has a cyclic pattern. And you might isolate which events peak and which events relieve it. And it’d be in her hands… …maybe leave no anxiety as white, so she doesn’t have to remember to color it if there wasn’t problems that day.
I remember that when my mom would declare new rules, I’d consciously wait a few weeks to see if this rule was one that stuck around or one that faded into the background as a forgotten declaration. And this was from a woman that was indomitable with routines, schedules, and consistency in discipline. I find it fascinating to read your blogs about parenting in part to help me structure how I think about how I will approach these things, but also as a foil to how I was parented. My parents were consistent, you-can-do-it-yourself people who–although available for it if we needed it–almost never helped us with anything. In many ways, the areas that you identify as struggling with were the areas that they excelled in. It has created determined, self-confident, and self-sufficient children.
But then there was the other side. Their demand for resiliency and self-sufficiency also meant that there was very little conversation about or need for feelings. If I was hurt about something, it was at best not addressed, or at worst I was considered over-sensitive. When I was diagnosed with depression in high school, I could tell how paralyzing it was for my parents to try and figure out a way to parent me. They didn’t know how to handle it in large measure because they didn’t know how to talk about it. If I may say so, it seems to me that the areas that my parents struggled with are areas that you address well with long conversations to your children, helping them identify feelings and how to cope with them and handle them in real life situations.
But at the end of the day…my parents are good people. My siblings and I are well adjusted people. People have things that they’re good at and things that they struggle with, and we all have to balance it out. Maybe structure and enforcing rules is something that you struggle with but that area does not define who you are either as a person or as a parent. There are aspects of you as a mother that you are good at, that you are imparting to your children and that they will remember fondly. We are all these jumbles of things we are good with and things that we struggle with, but it’s important to remember that there are the former to balance out and outshine the latter. Even when the things we struggle with cause problems, we keep working at them. And eventually we get better at them, even if we may never be quite so good with them as we are at the things that we are naturally good at.
Your first two sentences were me today. And because of it, I will have a better tomorrow. So will you.
Glad to hear it. I’ve had several better tomorrows since writing this post. I wish the same for you.
Thanks for your great words. I think as parents we always fear failing our children. I have always struggled with the thought of failing at anything. Since reading “Stop Playing Safe: Rethink Risk. Unlock the Power of Courage. Achieve Outstanding Success” by Margie Warrell I feel I am getting better- It really did teach me to conquer my fear of failure in any situation.
http://margiewarrell.com/