We have entered the season of giving. Stress levels can be very high while thinking about all that we would like to give our child, perhaps dealing with long Christmas wish lists, demands, the realities of our budgets, busy schedules, and the rushing around to keep up!
Pressures and expectations abound that the season should be joyous and ‘special’ for our family. This can leave us in gut-wrenching contortions, searching for that perfect gift, panicked inside the feeling that we will come up short. Even when we do keep ahead, we are sometimes puzzled that our child seems unhappy, disappointed, or perhaps is searching under the tree for something ‘more’.
I can’t give more… says the frustrated parent. What more can I give?
I bring this question to a much deeper place, and one which crosses cultures, continents and time itself: What does a child need the most at the very core of their being? What have children always needed to keep them securely grounded and anchored, able to grow in the understanding that we can’t possibly have everything we want, and nurtured in the deeper sense of the most important things in our lives being that which can’t be bought?
And of course the answer is: us. Do we provide our child with us, in full confidence that we are their answer?
The concept of ‘provision’ is foundational to Neufeld’s paradigm, and it outlines an absolutely vital component of the parent-child relationship: a child will tend to feel more settled, more at rest inside themselves and fuller when the parent moves in ways that seek to provide richly for contact and closeness, well before the child has to experience emptiness of it and a need to fill the void with something else.
In this way, the parent provides for the child’s deepest needs by taking the lead to cultivate relationship, giving richly those places where time slows down to the enduring gifts of what is inside the very space between parent and child.
Do your eyes light up when your child walks through the door or enters the room, putting inevitable issues or places of tension aside? Do you provide the very energies of delight, enjoyment and warmth in how you walk each day with your child? These ways of being will flow answers deeply into places of profound need more than any toy, clothing or ‘perfect present’ ever could.
How on earth do I fit this in? asks the parent, perhaps now wondering how to squeeze an extra ½ hour into the day for ‘quality time’ amidst the rush of an already hectic season.
It isn’t about adding, it’s about being.
When I think back on Christmas’ past, it always strikes me how it’s never the presents themselves that come to mind, but the enjoyments, the warmth and the delights of traditions, rituals and simple time spent simply with those that I love… to a child, this becomes the greatest gift of the giving season.
Today I am preparing for a special event in our house – a celebration of the beginning of the Christmas season. This tradition that we started some years back involves me finding where we stashed all the Christmas regalia from last year, trying to remember how to put the tree together (one of those really fake ones complete with artificial snow) and me scrambling to find eggnog to go with the treats while we decorate the tree. And while the preparation is not without its grumblings, it does serve to bring us together, to bring focus to a time that is special for us as a family. At this time, we tune out the other distractions and the daily pressures, and we tune in to our family and what is unfolding around us – the smell of a peppermint candle released from imprisonment, the first taste of eggnog, the sense of togetherness, and yes … the yearly disagreement about how to best put the lights on the tree.
Perfect it is not … but it is a custom that serves to ground us, to preserve what is important to us as a family. In North American society, we have fewer and fewer cultural traditions to safeguard these times; we have more and more distractions, expectations, things that threaten to pull our family apart. If we want to preserve what’s important to us – whether it is celebrating a special event, sitting together for a meal, or taking a Sunday walk – these things are not going to happen unless we take initiative to carve out time and space. We need to make room for what is important; if we do not, the busyness of life and the expectations of others will press in and leave us reacting to the urgent instead of honoring the important.
Reacting to the urgent had been a way of life in our family for many years, yet we yearned in the direction of connection and started slowly to put intentions into practice. We continue to find creative ways to fit our family’s needs. And while on one hand I am saddened by the lack of cultural wisdom and the absence of customs that innately serve to preserve relationships and community, I am also energized by the challenge to create my own customs. These are not meant to be rigid, closed in spaces, as some rituals can unintentionally become – but rather, sacred spaces… protected enough to keep out anything that might compete with the relationships you want to preserve, and yet open enough to allow for connection to happen in a natural way.
Celebrating the beginning of the Christmas season together allows us to collect and connect with each person in the family. Participating in shared activities like this allow for each one to feel like they belong. And our children need to experience being connected with us, to feel that they belong, to feel significant, to feel loved, to feel understood. By creating the environment for this to happen within our family we lower the risk of them finding that connection elsewhere.
So I intend to keep finding ways to preserve our family connections – both in big ways and in small. Now off to find the eggnog …
Wonder implies the desire to learn (Aristotle)
My husband loves all things hockey so it was natural when we had children that he wanted to share his passions with them. At age 4 my daughter dressed in her pink Canucks hockey jersey happily accompanied him to a hockey game. He would tell me she seemed to enjoy the game and she confirmed this highlighting that Daddy had bought her a chocolate ice-cream bar. So when the time came for ice skating lessons he took charge, lined up to get her a space in those coveted classes, and even came home from work to take her. Alas, she was more interested in sitting on the ice, playing with the snow and watching others skate as she drank hot chocolate. The lessons were short lived and I didn’t dare tell him that my friend’s children LOVED their ice skating classes. What is a Dad to do?
I don’t think these types of situations are uncommon in families; it is natural to want to share one’s interests with our children. Some children aren’t interested though – does it mean they never will be? Can a parent encourage or move a child in this direction? Understanding the difference between form and spirit is critical. Does a child want to learn to ice skate? Play a musical instrument? Is there a bias in the child to try these new things? If not, then we put the form before the spirit, the learning before the desire. Why is this a problem? Because the desire for the learning must be stronger in a child than in the parent otherwise the motivation needed to learn will be diminished if not absent.
So if you want your child to play music or even be toilet trained then you have to ask yourself whether or not they want to. If they don’t then working with exposing them but not pushing, setting the stage but not rewarding accomplishment over initiative can help encourage their desire in coming to the forefront. Letting their desire take the lead in the learning process and giving originality room in the creative process does much to propel their learning forward. Spirit is what needs to come first. When a child has a desire to learn then it is easy to teach them the form, in fact, this will be effortless in comparison. When a child wants to read we can easily provide them with the ‘how-to’s.” As Gordon talks about in Power to Parent II, it is actually this bias ‘to do it myself’ that will carry them far in life.
All is not lost for my sports loving husband and thank goodness he is a patient man. He has endured many years of ballet classes, pink tutu’s and even tap dancing. At last with some gentle nudging my daughter has decided to hang up her dance slippers and has fallen in love with all things soccer. As we watch her on the field, skipping to get the ball from her opponent, we can’t help but take great delight in her desire. Red faced and beaming she runs to tell us on the sidelines that this is her favourite thing EVER. We share a smile and tell her we are happy she is having so much fun but as she runs off to play I see the twinkle in my husband’s eye. I sigh and remind myself that patience truly is a virtue, good things do come to those who wait, and that some things money really can’t buy.
When my eldest child was born the whole world shrunk down to the size of her face, the feel of her skin, the sound of her cries. The days grew long, I was bleary eyed with exhaustion, and all my energy went into the here and now, into meeting all the moment-to-moment needs of a colicky infant.
Finally one day I looked up and realized sixteen years had passed; here she was, a young woman looking down at me from the vaunted height of her extra three inches! The days are long but the years are short.
I often recall this experience when addressing the concerns and fears of young parents: I yearn to give them a glimpse of the end-goal of parenting: a caring, vibrant adult capable of deep relationships, and of standing on his own two feet in the world.
This is what most parents want, but during the long days these are often not the goals we are mindful of. We are concerned with how to get our children to pick up their socks, stop hitting their sisters, and take responsibility for their own chores. In the frustration of the moment we are often tricked into thinking that any solution that solves these problems will lead to the ultimate end-point of a mature adult.
Unfortunately life isn’t that neat and tidy, and many of today’s common parenting practices may get us the sock-free living room we crave at the cost of our relationship with our children, and indeed, at the cost of their maturation. Today’s two most common parenting practices can cause a hardness-of-heart that stunts development and puts the brakes on the very processes of maturation that are essential to the formation of the kind of adult we hope to introduce to the world.
Using the withdrawal of our connection with our children as a tool to get their behaviour into line, (a commonly used shunning method of today’s parents is time-outs) or using what they care about against them, (often euphemized as “consequences”) indicates to the child that they are only acceptable when their behaviour lines up with our expectations.
Imagine if we used these methods in our relationships with our spouses: imagine if my husband took my car keys away because I didn’t clean the kitchen when I said I would. What if, when I walked in the door exasperated from work dumping my purse and coat on the chair without putting them away, he told me that though he loved me, this was unacceptable behaviour and I must go to my room until I was ready to behave appropriately?
How many times would it take before I would find myself hardening toward him? How long before I would greet his “discipline” with an eye roll and a “whatever”, or “I don’t care”. How likely would I be to respond favourably to his helpful, friendly suggestions fifteen minutes later?
Why risk provoking these reactions in our children? They need caring hearts if they are to be caring people. If we provoke their instincts to stop caring about us, the very ones who are meant to guide and direct them into the complex world they must live in, we are courting trouble. The days are long – yes – but the years are short, and we must keep in mind where we are going in order to attend best to where we are.
Recently I read a study that reported North Americans place a high value on independence. We all want our children to grow up and stand on their own two feet; who wants their 30 year old still living with them? The problem, is as Dr. Neufeld states, we are not birds that can be pushed out of the nest. In fact, the more we push independence in our kids, the more they cling, give up, or look to someone else for help. If we want to deepen attachment and cultivate independence, we first need to invite our children to depend on us.
Paradoxically, when we give the message to our children that we will take care of them, they can count on us and lean on us, it helps them relax and feel well nurtured. Lo and behold, they actually move to venture forth, trying things on their own. I know this first hand when I’m struggling with something. For example, when I have a problem with my computer, the more my husband denies me help, the more helpless I feel, the more I want to give up. When he moves in and says, “Here let me help you,” I feel grateful and endeared to him. I rest, and it renews my energy and confidence to figure things out myself. For humans to stand on their own feet, they need to feel well taken care of first.
I worked for a wonderful principal who knew this secret. He was generous in inviting us to lean on him, and he always supported his staff. The teachers were attached to him and he brought out the best in us. We actually worked harder for him than any other principal. He was an amazing leader on whom we could depend. All great teacher movies illustrate this. The teacher invites the student to lean on him/her until the student is strong enough to soar. We never see the master teacher being stingy, saying, “Don’t come to me for support. You’re on your own!” Instead they invite us into their classrooms, letting us know they are available for extra help. If we are struggling with an assignment, they give us the message, “I am here for you when you need it.”
I find this paradoxical wisdom to be true over and over again with my own children. When I say to my daughter, “You’re struggling with that shoe, let me help you tie the laces,” she wants to learn to tie them herself. When I say to my son who is struggling to write, “I’m going to help you. I’ll write every other line for you,” not only is he grateful, he is willing to try it himself rather than becoming overwhelmed and giving up. It’s not that a nudge isn’t sometimes appropriate or that we can never say, “No, I can’t help you right now.” Nor does it mean we should rush in to fix everything or interrupt them wanting to do something for themselves. But overall, being generous in our willingness to take care of our children goes a long way in helping them mature and grow.
Faith in the developmental process and trust that we are our children’s best bet will help them to realize their full potential. And one day, if we are lucky enough to live a long life, they may invite us to depend on them.
I don’t think I have ever seen so many hugs delivered by grown men in a 22-hour period. I was riveted, along with one billion other viewers. I kept count, wanting to stand vigil along with the president of Chile, until every single miner was up and accounted for. Thirty-three was the magic number. I don’t think I will never feel the same about that number again.
But what comes after a brush with death? Many alluded to the aftermath but only one of the many so-called experts even came close to spelling it out.
In short, one does not face death and come away untouched. What we witnessed was just the beginning of the impact. In the wake of the first tidal wave of emotion come two other momentous waves, quite capable of overwhelming us, especially if we don’t know what to expect.
When any separation is faced – and that is the psychological meaning of death – three powerful emotions are evoked. Only one of these emotions can be felt at a time, at least when the feelings are this intense. The emotion we all were witnessing in these miners is ‘seeking’ or ‘pursuit.’ This emotion moves us to restore proximity with those we are attached to. It was easy to identify with this emotion and celebrate its successful resolution.
But what comes after contact and closeness has been restored and the proximity seeking dissipates? One of the other two emotions – alarm or frustration – starts to move us deeply and profoundly. Nothing scares us more than facing separation from those we are attached to. Nothing frustrates us more than thwarted proximity with those attached to. The problem with frustration is that if it doesn’t move us to tears, it erupts instead in foul attacking energy. Many of the miners and their loved ones will find themselves spontaneously moved to tears, sometimes it will feel like for no good reason whatsoever. It is those who don’t find their tears that I am concerned about, the ones that will find themselves lashing out at their loved ones, devoid of patience, biting the heads off of those whom they couldn’t wait to be re-united with. It is hard enough to deal with this emotion when you know it is coming, but when blindsided, it can destroy the most precious relationships.
And then there is the alarm. Interestingly enough, the fear takes a while to catch up with us. In the wake of pursuit and of frustration come waves of alarming feelings, fueling nightmares, and obsessions and phobias and all manner of anxiety-driven behaviour. Again, this is daunting enough when anticipated, but can often overwhelm when caught by surprise. Alarming feelings are meant to move us to caution but there are certain things we cannot avoid. It is then that we need to find our tears of futility, for this is the only response that will actually put the alarm to rest.
I guess I am still trying to rescue these miners, not from the depths of the earth, but from the depths of their psyches. I hope someone somewhere is letting them know what to expect so these emotions don’t catch them unaware. Like any big waves, the best way to manage these emotions is simply to face them and dive through to the other side.
But the ultimate answer is yet another emotion – that of futility – the emotion experienced when up against that which cannot be changed. Facing separation is the ultimate futility, not because proximity cannot be pursued, but because we cannot hold it fast. When the futility sinks in, especially if the emotion is strong, it moves us to tears. The only way the waves of pursuit and alarm and frustration will lessen is to be held in someone’s arms, so to speak, until there is nothing left to do but cry. I hope these miners find those arms as well as the tears that will bring them back to themselves.
But their story is also our story and our children’s story. Any encounter with separation – and there can be many even throughout the course of day – evokes these three powerful emotions of pursuit, frustration, and alarm. Facing separation comes in many forms: losing contact with those attached to, being ignored, not belonging, being away for too long, even the time-outs that so many children are subjected to. We usually embrace the effects of the emotion of pursuit such as the seeking to be good, the trying to measure up, the looking for approval. What we don’t count on is the aftermath once proximity has been restored – the increased alarm and the waves of foul frustration. When the separation our children face is unavoidable, they, too, need to find their tears in the arms of those that love them. Otherwise they too are in danger of being overwhelmed by emotions and impulses that will inevitably get them into trouble.
My ultimate wish for the children of this world is that they would not have to face more separation than they can bear. Given that this wish is unlikely to be fulfilled, I do hope for them as well as for the rescued miners that they can find their tears and the arms in which they can be shed, in order to keep from being driven by the waves of alarm and frustration that come once proximity has been restored.
Halloween, among all our traditions, has a visceral feel of tapping into something very deep in our psyche.
I am going to talk about fear.
There comes a day when a young child suddenly realizes that bad things can happen to those he or she is attached to. Something might have already happened such as grandma getting sick. Or the child may just have come to the age where they can anticipate a distressing event.
Insulating a child from these fears is futile. When their fears start to take imaginative form, as in monsters under the bed, or fixations such as spiders, confronting the irrationality of these fears is equally futile.
The existence of alarming feelings in our children informs us that something is scaring them. If it is fear that something terrible could happen to mommy or daddy, for instance, this is going to be too much to look at directly, causing the alarm to dive under consciousness, surfacing only in feeling unsafe. It is this vague feeling of alarm that fuels the imagination into thinking that there are creepy and scary things lurking in the shadows. You perhaps will recognize this as the classic description of anxiety i.e., a vague and yet pervasive feeling of alarm without a specific cause associated with it.
So, how to deal with a fear that is too intense to be encountered in its raw form? We all want our children to feel as safe and free from anxiety as possible. Fortunately, one doesn’t have to confront the irrationality of a child’s fears or even unearth the particular cause, to help them deal with their feelings of alarm.
The answer is in play!
Play is the place where reality is suspended, where things can be practiced with no consequences, (ie no bad things can happen), and where roles can be reversed.
So, first, what elements of Halloween capture the essence of frightening things?
The mask – neurological studies of the emotional brain show us that we have an instinctive stress reaction, that is, the classic fight or flight response, to fierce or angry expressions. Even infants, by 6 to 7 months of age, develop an innate sensitivity to strangers, protesting their presence. Similarly, a lack of warmth in eye contact or a mask-like facial expression triggers alarm in all of us, no matter what our age.
Then there are the sounds and sensations that cause a primitive reaction. The dark, loud noises, unexpected tickling sensations on our skin, being startled by something without warning, are all stressful to the brain and cause it to send warning alert signals to the consciousness.
Add to this list is the sight of blood, of wounds, of the pallor and coldness of death. Some of these references are cultural but many are visceral and common to all humans.
At Halloween children experience all these things in a play context – those we know become strangers by donning masks or costumes, and we go out in the dark to spooky houses to knock on doors. Children have great fun being the ones to become scary, and they get a great thrill when a scary mask comes down to reveal a familiar safe face and the door of the house opens to reveal delighted friends giving treats and perhaps play-acting at being scared!
Of course playing with fear is risky business; it can easily become too much to bear for a child. The essence of the experience is that even in the extravagance of the play-acting, there must be a surety that home is the safe place. This calls for a sensitivity in the parent to each child’s threshold of how much is just enough to cause a thrill in the context of safety, but not too much to fuel a nightmare.
I wish you all a great playful spooky night!
As I give each of my children a goodnight hug and kiss, a final check for water and bathroom, and a gentle tuck of blankets to surround them with cozy warmth, I think about how far we’ve come…
I reflect back on the Level I Intensive: Making Sense of Children with Dr. Neufeld in Montreal, summer 2005… I was deeply moved by the attachment themes that he was walking us through. I felt a profound sense of sinking into realizations already there about the deeper needs of children.
Dr. Neufeld had been discussing a child’s need for more attachment when facing separation from Mom and Dad, including everyday separations such as bedtime, daycare, and school. I approached him during the break to inquire about the sleep issues of my oldest child: she couldn’t settle at bedtime, anxiety was high, and her need to cling to me desperate. It was resulting in a long drawn-out process each night: I was pushing her into sleep, she couldn’t, and it was leading to huge frustrations. Dr. Neufeld listened to my story through to the end, and then simply said: But Darlene, she is still of a very tender age…
Instantly I understood what he was saying. She still needed me to take care of her as she moved into the separation of bedtime, when dark surrounds a child in aloneness, anxieties surface sharply, and the shadows take the form of horrible monsters. I now had a sense of calling to support my child in facing bedtime separation with more of me. Unfortunately, my frustrated reactions were leaving her with very little to hold onto, other than an insecure feeling festering deep inside because of my impatience and frustration… and of course, the monsters then became bigger.
From that moment began a definite process of growth for both of us. With some combination on any given night of my taking the lead to provide extra kisses, cuddles, back-rubs, another story, firm reassurances, soothing tones to convey that I would let nothing happen to her, an old ratty robe of mine with my smell and all my love poured into it, magical ‘protection’ hugs that would stay with her after I left, invisible cords stretched between her heart and mine, ups and downs to her room as she eased into it, talks about meeting her in her dreams, rocking her through her tears while she adapted to the fact that bedtime in her own bed was definite, finding space for my tears, tempering tired frustration to hold the bigger picture of what I was doing, and repair work when I would unfortunately blow it, we weathered it.
As I turn out her light now five years later, I marvel at how my daughter faces the separation and fully embraces her sleep. I let go of the goal of ‘sleep’ and instead invested my energy in helping her to know she is deeply significant to me, I love her in the face of all challenges and even more, I seek to know her and understand her. Somewhere in the process [I’ve lost track of when], she moved to adapt to this dark aloneness within a growing feeling of security, warmly lit inside of her, that I will hold on to her.
And as a parent you likely will have discovered by now that people feel no shyness about commenting critically about your child’s behaviour and the way you are dealing with your child. It is hard to read the parenting literature or the newspaper’s reports on the latest release in research or the latest parenting advice (and possibly the editorials on this website), without experiencing confusion, alarm, and guilt.
Guilt hits to the core – you feel bad and would prefer to have it go away. It is such an uncomfortable feeling. And since our North American culture seems preoccupied with feeling good all the time, you can get into a real bind of feeling guilty about feeling guilty. What is the deal here?
Feelings, and under them the emotions deep in our brain, are the sources of our actions, and ‘bad’ feelings are as legitimate as ‘good’ ones. You could say, paradoxically, that having feelings is the very thing one should not feel guilty about!
Guilt in a child is a growth milestone, signifying a child’s sense of agency: that is, that he or she actually has an impact. From this grows a healthy sense of responsibility for their actions…
(However, making a child responsible for events over which they have no control can backfire, creating either pervasive neurotic guilt or a hardening against these feelings. If you have a child who feels responsible for their parent’s or teachers’ reactions to them, you have the source of a guilt that should not be in a child’s realm. In that same vein, recognizing the burgeoning feelings of guilt in a child should make one especially sensitive to making sure you are not using it to control the child’s behaviour. This also seems to happen in some schooling programs where there is an earnest attempt to built awareness of impact and inculcate a sense of responsibility,)
Ah see what I mean? Your impact on the child! There is no escape from guilt!
And as Dr. Neufeld says in his parenting DVDs, it is better to keep this uncomfortable feeling in sight. There are many temptations in wanting to avoid this feeling. There is the impulse to shift responsibility to someone or something else, the hunt for validation by others, the drive to be a perfect parent. One of the ways that this can manifest is to try to make an immature child who is having trouble handling his feelings take responsibility for his/her behaviour, when he or she is clearly not in control. And there are things in yours and your child’s world that are not of your making, that you are not responsible for. Taking up a relationship with guilt will help you stay connected to your own feelings and intuitions.
Realizing how important you are to this developing being means that guilt will be part of the parenting equation, just like not getting enough sleep.
My daughter recently turned eight, just weeks before her brother reached his sixteenth year. Their grandparents gave them a gift everyone would enjoy – two plane tickets to come spend time with them. For weeks my daughter looked forward to this adventure with her beloved big brother. But as the weeks turned into days, the excitement mutated into anxiety, and “Mommy I can’t wait to go.” and “How many more days?” turned into “Mommy I am scared.” and “Mommy I am not sure I want to go.” I knew my daughter longed to go on this trip, and I felt confident she could handle the separation and would be in good hands with her brother and grandparents. Yet this adventure was stretching her attachment umbilical cord a bit more than was comfortable for her.
Before my immersion in Dr. Neufeld’s paradigm, I would have responded to her anxiety just as I see many of my clients responding to troubling feelings their children experience – resist them and try to make them go away. I would have distracted her from her fear and tried to convince her there was nothing to worry about, just as we try to convince our 4 year olds that there are no monsters under the bed.
We all know monsters aren’t real, but this obvious fact blinds us to the truth that the anxiety, which is giving birth to monsters, is very real. Rather than fight the external manifestation with logic that is ineffective because it doesn’t address the underlying emotional experience, we must instead make room for their feelings, no matter how challenging this may be for them, or for us.
In my daughter’s case, I first took time to engage her attachment to me, something Dr. Neufeld calls collecting a child. Then I put warmth and acceptance in my voice and helped name the fears; that her big brother wouldn’t look after her, that she wouldn’t be able to sleep without me nearby, that she was going to miss me, that very simply, she felt scared. In the context of safety that our relationship provides for her, those anxieties melted into tears.
Supporting her to feel these fears, rather than fight against them, made the feelings less threatening and ultimately helped her face the dragons that stood in the way of her treasure. My daughter did go visit her grandparents, and her experience was authentic, ambivalent, and successful; she had a wonderful time, her heart stayed soft, and each night at bedtime the monsters still came, and I was called upon to help her find her tears and her courage.
What I did for my daughter is similar to something I aim to provide for my adult clients: a safe space to feel the vulnerable feelings that are an inevitable part of being human. When we have what we need to experience life fully, we discover that even though it is difficult and uncomfortable to bear vulnerable feelings, we can indeed survive the experience. In so doing, we become changed by that which we cannot change, a deeply transformative process Dr. Neufeld calls Adaptation; one of three processes of maturation he discusses in depth in his DVD Helping Children Grow Up. This process is what delivers a resilient and resourceful human being, one who is not determined by her fears but rather grows in facing them.