Good Inside: A Guide to Becoming the Parent You Want to Be

by Becky Kennedy

Behaviorism privileges shaping behavior above understanding behavior. It sees behavior as the whole picture rather than an expression of underlying unmet needs. This is why, I realized, these “evidence-based” approaches felt so bad to me—they confused the signal (what was really going on for a child) with the noise (behavior). After all, our goal is not to shape behavior. Our goal is to raise humans.

My approach promotes firm boundaries, parental authority, and sturdy leadership, all while maintaining positive relationships, trust, and respect.

at the heart of these principles is the idea that by understanding the emotional needs of a child, parents can not only improve behavior but transform how the entire family operates and relates to one another.

Okay, slow down . . . I’m good inside . . . my kid is good inside too . . . ,” we intervene differently than we would if we allowed our frustration and anger to dictate our decisions.

Understanding that we’re all good inside is what allows you to distinguish a person (your child) from a behavior (rudeness, hitting, saying, “I hate you”). Differentiating who someone is from what they do is key to creating interventions that preserve your relationship while also leading to impactful change.

Assuming goodness enables you to be the sturdy leader of your family, because when you’re confident in your child’s goodness, you believe in their ability to behave “well” and do the right thing. And as long as you believe they are capable, you can show them the way. This type of leadership is what every child craves—someone they can trust to steer them down the right path. It’s what makes them feel safe, what allows them to find calm, and what leads to the development of emotion regulation and resilience. Providing a safe space to try and fail without worrying they’ll be seen as “bad” is what will allow your children to learn and grow, and to ultimately feel more connected to you.

many parents see behavior as the measure of who our kids are, rather than using behavior as a clue to what our kids might need

talk to ourselves when we are struggling inside—the self-talk of “Don’t be so sensitive” or “I’m overreacting” or “I’m so dumb,” or, alternatively, “I’m trying my best” or “I simply want to feel seen”—is based on how our parents spoke to or treated us in our times of struggle.

Now, here’s the thing: no parts of us are actually bad. Underneath “Send my baby sister back to the hospital! I hate her!” is a child in pain, with massive abandonment fears and a sense of threat looming in the family; underneath the defiance of taking that cookie is probably a child who feels unseen and controlled in other parts of her life; and underneath that incomplete school assignment is a child who is struggling and likely feels insecure. Underneath “bad behavior” is always a good child. And yet, when parents chronically shut down a behavior harshly without recognizing the good kid underneath, a child internalizes that they are bad.

Place your hand on your heart and deliver yourself this important message: “I am here because I want to change. I want to be the pivot point in my intergenerational family patterns. I want to start something different: I want my children to feel good inside, to feel valuable and lovable and worthy, even when they struggle.

And this starts . . . with re-accessing my own goodness. My goodness has always been there.”

Finding the good inside can often come from asking ourselves one simple question: “What is my most generous interpretation of what just happened?”

Wow, what just happened? And how do you respond? Here are some options: 1) “The worst mom? I just bought you a new toy! You’re so ungrateful!” 2) “When you say that, it makes Mommy sad.” 3) Ignore. Walk away. 4) “Wow, those are big words, let me take a breath . . . I hear how upset you are. Tell me more.” I like option 4, because it’s the intervention that makes sense after considering the most generous interpretation of my child’s behavior. The first option interprets my son’s response as simply spoiled and ungrateful. The second teaches my son that his feelings are too powerful and scary to be managed, that they harm others and threaten attachment security with a caregiver. (We’ll get into more detail about attachment in chapter 4, but the short of it is this: focusing on a child’s impact on us sets the stage for codependence, not regulation or empathy.) The third option sends the message that I believe my son is unreasonable, and his concerns are unimportant to me. But my MGI of my child’s response is this: “Hmm. My son really wishes he was included in this special lunch. I can understand that. He’s sad. And jealous. Those feelings are so big in his small body that they explode out of him in the form of big hurtful words, but what’s underneath is a raw, painful set of feelings.” The intervention that comes next—the empathetic statements based on seeing my child as good inside—acknowledges

acknowledges his words as a sign of overwhelming pain, not as a sign of his being a bad kid.

We orient them to their internal experience, which includes thoughts, feelings, sensations, urges, memories, and images. Self-regulation skills rely on the ability to recognize internal experience, so by focusing on what’s inside rather than what’s outside, we are building in our children the foundation of healthy coping.

at all times, but especially when our kids are dysregulated—meaning their emotions overwhelm their current coping skills—they look to their parents to understand, “Who am I right now? Am I a bad kid doing bad things . . . or am I a good kid having a hard time?” Our kids form their own self-view by taking in their parents’ answers to these questions.

When we tell our kids, “You’re a good kid having a hard time . . . I’m here, I’m right here with you,” they are more likely to have empathy for their own struggles, which helps them regulate and make better decisions.

There’s nothing more valuable than learning to find our goodness under our struggles, because this leads to an increased capacity to reflect and change.

We can avoid punishment and see improved behavior, we can parent with a firm set of expectations and still be playful, we can create and enforce boundaries and show our love, we can take care of ourselves and our children. And similarly, we can do what’s right for our family and our kids can be upset; we can say no and care about our kids’ disappointment.

Building strong connections relies on the assumption that no one is right in the absolute, because understanding, not convincing, is what makes people feel secure in a relationship.

What do I mean by understanding and not convincing? Well, when we seek to understand, we attempt to see and learn more about another person’s perspective, feelings, and experience. We essentially say to that person, “I am having one experience and you are having a different experience. I want to get to know what’s happening for you.” It doesn’t mean you agree or comply (these would imply a “one thing is true” perspective), or that we are “wrong” or our truth doesn’t hold; it means we are willing to put our own experience aside for a moment to get to

know someone else’s. When we approach someone with the goal of understanding, we accept that there isn’t one correct interpretation of a set of facts, but rather multiple experiences and viewpoints. Understanding has one goal: connection. And because connecting to our kids is how they learn to regulate their emotions and feel g...

What’s the opposite of understanding? For this argument’s sake, it’s convincing. Convincing is the attempt to prove a singular reality—to prove that “only one thing is true.” Convincing is an attempt to be “right” and, as a result, make the other person “wrong.” It rests on the assumption that there is only one correct viewpoint. When we seek to convince someone, we essentially say, “You’re wrong. You are mis-perceiving, mis-remembering, mis-feeling, mis-experiencing. Let me explain to you why I am correct and then you’ll see the light and come around.” Convincing has one goal in mind: being right. And here’s the unfortunate consequence of being right: the other person feels unseen and unheard, at which poi...

In “one thing is true” mode, exchanges escalate quickly—each person thinks they’re arguing about the content of the conversation, when in fact they’re trying to defend that they are a real, worthy person with a real, truthful experience. By contrast, when we’re in “two things are true” mode, we are curious about and accepting of someone else’s experience, and it feels like an opportunity to get to know someone better. We approach others with openness, and so they put down their defenses. Both parties feel seen and heard, and we have an opportunity to deepen connection.

We also do better, as individuals, when we approach our own internal monologue with a “two things are true” perspective. Multiplicity is what allows a person to recognize that I can love my kids and crave alone time; I can be grateful to have a roof over my head and feel jealous of those who have more childcare support; I can be a good parent and yell at my kid sometimes. Our ability to experience many seemingly oppositional thoughts and feelings at once—to know that you can experience several truths simultaneously—is key to our mental health.

“Two things are true” can help anyone make sense of a world that often feels contradictory, but it’s especially critical for kids, who need to feel that their parents recognize and permit their feelings and that their feelings do not take over and bleed into decision-making.

As parents we can make decisions that we think are best and care about our kids’ feelings about those decisions.

Your anger won’t change your boss’s decision. Also, your boss’s logic won’t change your feelings. Both make sense. Both are true.

When you make a decision you believe in but you know will upset your child, you might say as much to your kid: “Two things are true, sweetie. First, I have decided that you cannot watch that movie. Second, you’re upset and mad at me. Like, really mad. I hear that. I even understand it. You’re allowed to be mad.” You don’t have to choose between firm decisions and loving validation. There’s no trade-off between doing what feels right to you and acknowledging the very real experience of your child. Both can be true.

Parent: “Hmm . . . what can we do? I’m sure we can come up with an idea that both of us feel okay about . . .”

Child: “Can I bring my jacket with me and if I’m cold, I’ll put it on?” Parent: “Sure, what an awesome solution.”

When children feel seen and sense their parent is a teammate and not an adversary, and when they’re asked to collaborate in problem-solving . . . good things happen.

Parent: “Hmm . . . what can we do? As your parent, it’s my job to keep you safe, and right now safety means wearing a jacket. And also, you like to make your own decisions and it feels bad to have a parent tell you what to do.” Child: “I’m not wearing that jacket!” Parent: “I hear you. Two things are true: you have to wear a jacket if you’re going outside . . . and also, you’re allowed to be mad at me about it. You don’t have to like wearing it.”

Child: “I hate you! You’re the worst!” Parent: Takes a deep breath. Says to self, “My child is upset inside. His outside behavior is not a true indication of how he feels about me. He’s a good kid having a hard time.” Then says aloud: “I do not appreciate that language . . . you must be really upset, maybe about some other things too, to be talking to me like this. I need a moment to calm my body . . . maybe you do too . . . then let’s talk.”

Here, you’re naming the behavior that upsets you—but you’re not letting it take over as the truth. You recognize the feeling underneath as valid even if it comes out in a dysregulated way.

Parents have the job of establishing safety through boundaries, validation, and empathy. Children have the job of exploring and learning, through experiencing and expressing their emotions. And when it comes to jobs, we all have to stay in our lanes. Our kids should not dictate our boundaries and we should not dictate their feelings.

“I am doing my job of keeping my child safe. My child is doing their job of expressing feelings. We are both doing what we need to do. I can handle this.”

they need to know that we can keep them safe when they are developmentally incapable of doing so themselves. Why are they unable? Well, to put it simply: children are more able to experience strong feelings than they are to regulate those feelings, and the gap between experiencing strong feelings and regulating those feelings comes out as dysregulated behavior (think hitting, kicking, screaming).

The goal is to teach our kids how to manage all of their feelings and perceptions and thoughts and urges; we are the primary vehicle for this teaching, not through lectures or logic, but through the experiences our children have with us.

Think of it as containing the emotional fires that are blazing inside your child. If there were a fire in your home, your first job would be to contain it. Yes, you need to fireproof your home better, but that can’t happen until the fire is managed and you feel safe again. When parents struggle to set boundaries or regulate their own strong emotions, it’s as if a fire is burning and we’ve opened up all the doors, poured on extra fuel, and spread the fire through the house. Containment first. Boundaries first.

Boundaries are not what we tell kids not to do; boundaries are what we tell kids we will do.

Some other examples of boundaries: “I won’t let you hit your brother” as you walk between your daughter and her brother and position your body in a way so the hitting doesn’t happen again. “I won’t let you run with scissors” as you place your hands around your child’s hips so that movement isn’t possible. “Screen time is over now, I’m going to turn off the TV.” You turn off the TV and place the remote somewhere it cannot be reached by your child.

Here are examples of not boundaries, but instead ways we essentially ask our kids to do our jobs for us. In these scenarios, despite our attempts to shut down a behavior, it usually escalates further—not because our kids “don’t listen,” but because their bodies feel a lack of containment. The absence of a sturdy adult keeping them safe is more dysregulating to them than the original issue. “Please stop hitting your brother!” “Stop running! I said to stop running! If you keep running with those scissors, you’re not going to get dessert!”

“Didn’t we say you’d be done after this show? Can’t we be done? Why do you hav...

In each of these examples, parents are asking their kids to inhibit an urge or desire that, frankly, they are developmentally incapable of inhibiting. We cannot tell a child who is hitting someone to stop hitting, or a child who is running to stop running, or a child who is complaining about wanting more TV to stop complaining. Well, we can (I am someone who says all these things too!), but these pleas won’t be successful. Why? Because we cannot control someone else—we can only control ourselves. And when we ask our child to do our job for us, they are more likely to get further dysregulated, because we are essentially saying, “I see that you’re out of control. I don’t know what to do here, so I’m going to put you in charge and ask you to get yourself back in control.” This is terrifying for a child, because when she is out of control, she needs an adult who can provide a safe, sturdy, firm boundary; this boundary is a form of love. It’s ...

Validation is the process of seeing someone else’s emotional experience as real and true, rather than seeing someone else’s emotional experience as something we want to convince them out of or logic them away from. Validation sounds like this: “You’re upset, that’s real, I see that.” Invalidation, or the act of dismissing someone else’s experience or truth, would sound like this: “There’s no reason to be so upset, you’re so sensitive, come on!” Remember, all human beings—kids and adults—have a profound need to feel seen in who they are, and at any given moment, who we are is related to what we are feeling inside

Empathy, the second part of a parent’s emotional caretaking job, refers to our ability to understand and relate to the feelings of another person, and our desire to do that comes from the assumption that someone else’s feelings are in fact valid. So, validation comes first (“My child is having a real emotional experience”) and empathy second (“I can try to understand and connect with these feelings in my child, not make them go away”). Empathy comes from our ability to be curious: it allows us to explore our child’s emotional experience from a place of learning, not judgment.

feelings come out in behavior only when those feelings are unmanageable inside, when they are too big to regulate and contain.

And as kids strengthen that ability to regulate their feelings, those feelings are less likely to manifest as behavior: this is the difference between your child’s saying, “I’m so mad at my sister!” (regulating anger) and your child’s hitting her sister (dysregulation); the difference between your child’s saying, “I want to run!” (regulating an urge) versus your child’s grabbing a pair of scissors and running down the hallway (dysregulation); the difference between your child’s saying, “I wish I could watch another show right now” (regulating disappointment), and having a meltdown (dysregulation).

One of the primary goals of childhood is to build healthy emotion regulation skills: to develop ways to have feelings and manage them, to learn how to find yourself amid feelings and thoughts and urges, rather than have feelings and thoughts and urges overtake you.