Bad Days on the Path of Mothering

Every now and then I have a Bad Day, a truly difficult Learning Curve Day. A day where I'm stressed out, burned out, touched out, cooped up, and run down. Calgon capitalized on it with their old ad campaign, showing a busy, harried mother calling for Calgon to take her away. Everyone responds to it differently, but I imagine that the underlying, "I just can't take it anymore" is fairly universal. I doubt that there are many parents who do not know that feeling.

It can be extremely hard to get on top of the negative thoughts when you're overwhelmed and grumpy. I notice when I feel like this, how I respond to my children shifts - sometimes subtly, and sometimes in an alarmingly drastic way. I find myself wanting to control them: to make them tidy up, clean their room, pick up that book, eat their food, hug their sibling after an argument. I want them to do whatever it is that I've asked, with the only motivation being because I said to do it. The urge to control their actions rises up in me like a serpent, whispering in my ear: They should do it because you asked. They owe it to you to do what you want. If they loved you they would do it immediately and without complaint. It's ridiculous that they begrudge you this! If they do what you want, the feeling of powerlessness and irritability will go away... you need them to obey to make THIS FEELING go away...

  

Being invaded by the belief that controlling the behavior of those around me is the only way to reduce my own discomfort is certainly not pleasant. Not for me, and not for anyone around me. It is the first step toward engaging in power struggles, which are never satisfying, even if I manage to strongarm compliance from others.

It is difficult for me to recognize that those thoughts are not true, when they are what is inside my head - insidious and pervasive. It is human nature to accept that our thoughts are our thoughts, and therefore are valid. It takes a lot of work to come to examine our thoughts and beliefs and emotions, and to begin to understand that we choose what to believe, and we choose how we respond to our own thoughts and emotions. And some days, that work seems impossible. And by impossible, I mean you're so mired in your own egoic assumptions that it doesn't even register with your to try. It's not even a blip on the radar. 

Fortunately my children are understanding and forgiving. On the days when I believe my thoughts that say I must control them in order to feel okay inside, they respond with varying degrees of acquiescence to my rude, sudden demands and my Jekyll/Hyde shift to enforcing rules that don't exist and making a big deal out of things that are not actually priorities for me or anyone else in our home. They all forgive me. Over and over, they forgive me with greater patience and unconditionality than I could ever expect from anyone. It's humbling. It shines a light on my weakness and my selfishness. It makes me all the more motivated to become able to observe those feelings when they arise, to see them for what they are, and to allow them to pass without reaction or judgment. "Oh, hello, anger. There you are. And there you go."

There are some things that I've found helpful in staying on my chosen path with my children (although nothing is fail-proof. There is no easy fix, just doing the work.) 

Make eye contact. Almost all parenting books and articles and experts agree: physically getting down to your child's level and making eye contact gives better results. The tone of this advice is usually "because it allows the child to feel connected to you, like you understand and care for them, and they are more likely to do what you want then." My experience is that it is the other way around. When I lower myself and look in my child's eyes, really LOOK at the emotions that are there, several things happen. I become reminded that connection with my child is my number one priority. It is far more important to me than the toys on the floor, or the rejected sandwich. I'm reminded that connecting with them in a heartfelt way teaches them what I want them to learn about themselves, the universe, and their role in it, rather than what they might learn from being forced to randomly subjugate themselves unquestioningly to my dictatorial authority. My child might be glaring at me, defiant, furious with my treatment of them; the serpent says, "They should not be allowed to look at you like that!" but taking just one small step and looking behind that defiance reveals to me the emotion behind it. Fear. Hurt. Powerlessness. Some children will cower or sulk; others will clench their fists at their sides and meet you squarely with a pugilist's demeanor. The feeling that they have is the same: helplessness. The child who reacts with defiance is simply doing all that they can to regain their equilibrium when it comes to their personal power. This can also be true of a child who wails and sobs, or has a tantrum. It is when I look intentionally into my child's eyes that I see who they are, and what they are going through -- and I see who I am, and what I am going through -- and I know that we are deeply, truly connected. In the face of that, self-centeredness melts away.

Self-nurture. It's said over and over again that self-care is important. If you are tired, hungry, or in some way are not getting your basic, physical needs met, your resilience may suffer. I think that it's something many people neglect, but mothers in particular seem to be most prone to not taking care of their own basic needs. Many even feel that taking care of themselves is something you do after everyone else is all set, if you have time. When you're already depleted, someone telling you to eat well can even feel like a slap in the face, because who wouldn't want to take care of themselves? There are several barriers to moms taking excellent care of their physical needs. While some of these barriers are logistical, which I'm not going to address here and honestly am still figuring out myself, some are barriers of belief. Believing that barriers can't be surmounted - that there is no way to mitigate or reduce the interference that outside forces play on your ability to nourish yourself and rest, when there are almost always some small things that can be done to make this easier on yourself. Believing that it is a mother's job to care for herself only after everyone else is cared for. Believing that somehow, other people manage to be successful in their lives without getting their basic needs met, and that you should be able to do that too. It is enlightening to cultivate an awareness. My days are very different when I am mindful of my own body. When I purposely turn my attention to my body periodically throughout the day, and am proactive in caring for myself, and respond to my body's cues promptly, I find that the mental and emotional aspects benefit. Procrastination is a way that I sabotage myself in this respect; I may recognize that I'm starting to feel hungry, but for whatever reason I decide I'll feed myself "later." I will become increasingly irritable, but still don't take the steps to feed myself. Setting the intention to do what small things I can in a timely fashion to keep myself on an even keel is key... without that, I will allow myself to get caught up in other things and put off doing the things I need to do to fuel my body. Maslov's hierarchy of needs has the fundamental physiological needs for survival as the base; if those needs are not met, the "higher" needs of social connection and spiritual exploration become difficult, if not impossible. This is a survival mechanism, not a personality flaw.

Let go of guilt and shame. When we are irritable or otherwise lacking, when we make poor choices in our relationships, when we mess up and stray from the path we have set for ourselves and fallen short of our ideals, it feels natural to feel guilty and ashamed. We feel that those emotions are our penance for our failure, as well as a way of ensuring that we never, ever make that mistake again. The only trouble is, guilt and shame do not work. They do not bring about a change in behavior or beliefs. They are futile emotions that we hold onto as some sort of talisman against future failure. If anything, these emotions, if the messages they send are believed and embraced, can actually cause you to fall farther short of your ideals, rather than take you closer to them. They disempower. They cultivate self-pity, which is at it's heart self-centered. More effective is learning compassion for yourself. Becoming aware of your thoughts, your deeply held beliefs; seeing yourself through the eyes of objectivity and unconditional love. This also applies to what we expect from our children. So much of "discipline" seems to be about making a child feel guilty when they do not meet our expectations. When I am having that Learning Curve Day, one of the strongest urges is to drive home to my children that they should feel guilty for their behavior, and, in all honesty, for my emotions. But that is not what I truly, deeply want for them. I want them to learn to be compassionate with someone who is believing their untrue thoughts. I want them to be able to look at that and say, "This is not about me; this is about what is going on inside the other person," and I want them to respond with love and understanding. I do not want them crushed by the weight of guilt, or believe that they bear the responsibility for another person's emotions or beliefs. Guilt is not necessary for learning; taking responsibility for someone else's feelings isn't necessary for love; and enabling isn't necessary for support and acceptance. Those things unquestionably hinder authentic connection, and part of my work as a mother is to overcome them in my own life, and to show my children something else. 

Be in the moment. Taking just a few moments to tune into the sensations of the moment can do a lot to ground you in the present, and pull you into your body and out of your head. Turning your attention to your breath, to the sounds around you, to the feel of your shirt on your body, to the sight of dust motes rollicking in a beam of sunshine: these can get you away from your frazzled, frantic thoughts and back into the reality of right now. Breathing deeply, and focusing on your breath, is very helpful as well. It can help "reset" your brain. In parenting, there is something called "changing the frame" which means if your child is melting down, simply taking them into another space - the other room, outside, whatever - can help to break the negative spiral of thoughts and emotions and allow them to regain their composure. I think that the reason that this can be so effective is because the change of scenery causes the child to pause to inventory the sensations that come with it. It brings them into the present. As adults, we can choose to "change the frame" internally, by breathing and intentionally turning our attention to the sensory information our body is receiving. I've also found it very helpful, with a child who was melting down, to sit with them lovingly, and say, "We'll talk about it in a minute; first lets just see what our senses are telling us. What are you seeing? Are you feeling the roughness of the couch? What are you tasting?" In taking a moment to observe what is happening around them, they come back to their thoughts more able to observe them as well. As a mother - as a person - I benefit greatly when I remember to do this for myself.

It is hard sometimes. Really, really hard. It is difficult to allow-but-not-embrace the ugly and detrimental whispers of the snake that strangles out the joy; it is difficult to allow-but-not-embrace the guilt that follows when I realize the series of messages I sent my children all day long, messages I did not want them to absorb. It is difficult to ask, "Is that true?" of my thoughts when I'm sinking in a quicksand of powerlessness and self-pity. It is sometimes difficult to accept and allow joyfulness as a choice we make each second of every day. Joy doesn't require perfection or ease; it requires the decision to allow joy unconditionally. That takes practice, to be sure. I hope that in between my Learning Curve Days, my children absorb the message that joy is theirs, always theirs. 

In the meantime, I will look to them for examples of how to be joyful. How to be patient, accepting, forgiving, compassionate, resilient, persistent, present. I will never have better teachers than these amazing people I get to call my children. 

"There is no enlightenment outside of daily life.” -- Thich Nhat Hanh