When my daughter was a teen and going through an intense emotional time, I wanted nothing more than to fix it for her–to make her upset go away.
Isn’t that what many of us want? We want our children to be happy, content, confident, you name it. But my wanting to “fix” her upset? This was more about me needing to feel better–to feel I’m a good parent because 1) I have the power to “fix” her problems and 2) my daughter was happy once again. I knew this wasn’t healthy–this wasn’t going to help, support, encourage, or empower her to learn how to manage her own self. To become happy, content, confident in herself. It would only serve to make me feel better and probably only temporarily until the next round of emotional upset.
Instead, I paused. I considered what I really wanted–for her to feel in control of herself, capable at being upset, and to know that I am a resource she can always count on.
I took a moment to think about what upset feelings of either of my children I have been most comfortable in. I found myself reflecting back to toddler and preschool years and physical hurts. Though they came to me scraped up and bloody, alligator tears and sobbing, I remembered how I could welcome their upset with open arms, with a sense of calm, and just–quite literally–sit with them as they cried.
I remembered how, in time, I could ask how they’d like to handle their owie and give them as much control over it as possible. I felt calm, I stayed connected, I was quiet and close as they unloaded their upset. I was okay with their great big sad. I like to think this is why, as young adults, they are far more matter-of-fact with their physical injuries…taking the hurt in stride and addressing it from a positive perspective.
I took this knowledge and memory of what worked and felt successful in the past and ‘wore’ it going into this VERY difficult experience with my daughter. On the outside I was calm, on the inside I was actively pausing and talking to myself and recognizing the anxiety that was trying to bubble up.
As I acted-as-if I was that young mom with a hurt toddler, I found myself sitting next to her, rubbing her back, no eye contact, staying quiet as she unloaded. I waited until her tears slowed and then I asked questions rather than offered solutions. She calmed herself down, came up with ideas, asked for my thoughts, and ultimately moved forward positively and well. I remember this moment for it was incredibly difficult for me NOT to jump in with my ideas, advice, desire to fix it all so she could get back to happy. There’s that power of pause at work.
The gifts? For my daughter it was the confidence in her I demonstrated as I sat with her calmly–confidence in her ability to manage all her upset. It was the empowerment she felt as a result. It was how she could take charge and move forward. It was a moment that she found she could turn within and gather up her inner strength. It was a moment she knew I was there for her, not for me.
For me? It was a moment of meaningful connection. A deposit into our relationship. A moment when I knew, deep down, that she would eventually soar and that I just grew a bit stronger myself. It has strengthened my ability to sit in an uncomfortable place–with myself and with others. And I like to think I am role modeling for my girls just what to do with those less than wonderful feelings…at least, some of the time! It is a practice…oh, and we get so many opportunities to practice every single day 
.
Mister Rogers’ has been and always will be a hero of mine. He inspires me daily as I reflect often on what he’d do–whether it is with children or in response to life. Thank you, Mister Rogers.
With JOY and appreciation,
Alice
Author and Parent Coach
©2014 Alice Hanscam