Rupture and Repair
Repairing the relationship with our kids after we rupture it (by yelling, hitting, etc.) is a key factor in building emotional intelligence.
Isn’t it amazing how naïve we were before we became parents? How intently we believed that just with sheer will, we could break generational, deeply ingrained pathologies? That by reading a few (hundred) books on the subject of parenting, we could be the first in our lineage who didn’t spank, didn’t hit, didn’t abuse drugs (insert your own version of ancestral trauma here)?
As someone who grew up in a home with dysfunctional tendencies, I went into mamahood as prepared as I could to break generational bad habits. I had done the personal work, I studied diligently toward my Master’s in Clinical Counseling, graduated top of my class, and worked on the front line with kids and teens in foster care, detention facilities, and those with horrendous sexual abuse histories. I learned exactly what NOT to do to mess up my kids. I wanted to teach instead of punish. It all sounded so.freaking.easy. I would not be my parents!
But sometimes I open my mouth and my mom comes out.
The problem with reading about a gentle approach to parenting is that they don’t account for the baggage parents have going into becoming parents. We’re setting ourselves up to be shamed into thinking that we’re monsters for being human and having a wide gambit of emotions. Even the most cookie-cutter parents (in the sense that their parents were healthy, functional, and raised them in the most optimal living conditions) are gonna lose their cool at times. And they have a much longer rope when they are pushed, hit, slammed to their limits though.
Just today my daughter, with her disheveled blonde hair and freckles splattered across her pink cheeks callously enunciated, “No,” after I ordered her to pick her puzzle up from the floor. The sass is strong with that one. What is it about kids just outrightly saying ‘no,’ that ticks us off so much? It’s a whole lot of triggers wrapped up in one; defiance, exerting their autonomy, rejection.
I responded gently this time. I have learned how she likes to push me and I can typically keep my cool. But six years into the mom game, and I still yell. I get triggered. I draw my fingers up into balls so hard that my nails carve out indentations in my palms. I tremble with rage in an effort to expel the built-up fire roaring inside of my chest. I have spanked. I have intimidated. I have lost my ever-loving shit. Am I ashamed? Some days. Do I go to sleep on those nights feeling a sense of guilt about the parent that showed up that day, versus the parent I’d envisioned? For sure.
Here’s the thing I tell myself and I hope you hear this too… There is a difference between Millennial parents that I know and their Boomer parents, and that difference is HUGE. It’s the awareness piece. Our parents were repeating behaviors blindly that they learned from their parents. They were perpetuating generational trauma with a minimal effort toward higher consciousness around how to raise happy children into well-functioning adults. They expected us to turn out “alright” because they did too. But we want more than alright for our kids.
The difference between me and my parents is that I understand when I mess up and I own it. For me, that looks like cooling down, coming together, sharing my feelings, plus acknowledging and apologizing for what I’ve done or how I’ve acted. It’s a teaching moment for my kids.
I rupture, yes. I am human after all. But then I repair.
If you don’t have a process that feels solid and repeatable when you have some repairing of your own to do with your kiddos, I would encourage you to write one out. It’s not something that you need to memorize. In fact, it needs to be genuine because I think that kids can smell BS better than most. It should include connection, the naming of feelings, an omission of your wrongdoings, an apology, and finally a call to action. I also like to process with my kids how they contributed to the stressor (if they did) and what could have been done differently.
We will have bad days, but I try and see each new day as an opportunity to be a less angry mom. My kid’s future depends on it. No pressure.
Here’s an example of the “script” I use with my five and a half-year-old:
“Hey, Lovie (eye contact, gentle leg touch). I’d like to talk to you about how I reacted earlier. I felt really mad when you pushed your sister. I was also really scared that you were going to hurt her (naming of feelings). I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I bet that made you feel really scared, huh (omission of wrongdoing)?
You know how hard I try to be kind and patient. I want you to know how sorry I am for yelling at you the way I did. You didn’t deserve for me to act like that (apology).
I will work harder at not losing my patience with you (call to action). Could you do something for me also?
If your sister is bothering you can you practice using your words instead of your hands (her contribution to the stressor)? She did not deserve to be pushed. Do you think you should apologize to her now?”
