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February 26 - March 29, 2024
Differentiating who someone is from what they do is key to creating interventions that preserve your relationship while also leading to impactful change.
maximizing attachment with our caregivers is the primary goal for young, helpless children.
focusing on a child’s impact on us sets the stage for codependence, not regulation or empathy.)
This idea of multiplicity—the ability to accept multiple realities at once—is critical to healthy relationships.
Our ability to hold on to multiple truths at once—ours and someone else’s—allows two people in a relationship to feel seen and feel real, even if they are in conflict.
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.
“Health is the ability to stand in the spaces between realities without losing any of them—the capacity to feel like one self while being many.”
logic doesn’t overpower emotion: I may have a valid reason for doing something . . . and also someone else has a valid emotional reaction. Both are true.
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.
Boundaries are not what we tell kids not to do; boundaries are what we tell kids we will do.
“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.
“I know you’re good inside and you’re just having a hard, out-of-control time. I will be the container you need, I will stop you from continuing to act in this way, I will protect you from your own dysregulation taking over.”
“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 know you’re frustrated! Having a brother who can crawl and get into all of your stuff is so hard. I’m here. I’ll help you figure out how to keep your block structure safe.” “I won’t let you run with scissors” as you hold your child—gently and firmly—in place. “I know, you want to run run run! You can put those scissors down and run or finish your project and run around later. Which would you rather? Oh . . . you want to do both? I know,
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“It’s hard to say goodbye today. I get that. Some days are like that. I know you’re safe here at school and we both know that Papa always comes back. I’ll see you at pickup.”
The more children feel they can depend on a parent, the more independent they can be.
Mommy was having big feelings that came out in a yelling voice. Those were my feelings and it’s my job to work on managing them better. It’s never your fault when I yell and it’s not your job to figure out how I can stay calmer. I love you”)
“Good parents don’t get it right all the time. Good parents repair.”
Building resilience is about developing the capacity to tolerate distress, to stay in and with a tough, challenging moment, to find our footing and our goodness even when we don’t have confirmation of achievement or pending success.
“I want my child to be able to cope with whatever the world throws her way. I want her to feel supported in distress when she’s younger so she can support herself when she’s older.”
“Hmm . . . it’s hard to find your ‘I’m sorry’ voice. I have times like that too. I’ll use it for you before you find it again.” Then you, the parent, go to your other child and say, “I’m sorry I took your lovie. I know that was upsetting. Is there anything I can do to make it better?”
“I understand it’s hard to talk about things we wish weren’t true”
It’s not information so much as feeling confused and alone in the absence of information that terrifies them.
Clear, direct, honest information shared while connected to you, your child’s loving, trusted adult. This is what helps kids
four different ways you might tell the truth: confirming your child’s perceptions, honoring your child’s questions, labeling what you don’t know, and focusing on the how instead of the exact what.
“You’re the only one in your body, so you’re the only one who can know how you feel and what you want.”
you won’t always have answers, but you can always work on feeling safe and competent in the present moment.
“You’re worried about getting your blood drawn today. Exactly how long it will take and how much it will hurt, I don’t know. What I do know is that it will hurt, and then it will stop hurting at some point. I will be with you the whole time, and we’ll get through it together.”
“What a great question. I hope she gets better, sweetie. And the truth is that . . . we don’t know. We don’t know if she will get better. What I do know is that I will tell you the truth, even if it feels uncomfortable, and that I am here for you with all the feelings you have about this.”
“Grandpa died today. Dying means the body stops working,”
Before giving more information, check in with your child. You might ask, “How does it feel to talk about this?” or say, “It’s okay to be sad about this. I feel sad too.”
“That’s such an important question. I am going to tell you the answer. It might feel hard to hear, but as we talk, I’m right here with you.”
“That’s a great question and I want to give you a great answer. I need some time to get back to you—but I absolutely will because answering your questions is so important.”
“Over the course of my earlier years, it must have been adaptive to be vigilant about the needs of others, and this vigilance overpowered my attunement to my own needs.”
“[Anxiety/anger/sadness] is not my enemy. My [anxiety/anger/sadness] is allowed to be here. I can tolerate my discomfort.”
“I have full permission to feel like life is hard,” or “I’m allowed to feel exactly as I do,” or “It’s okay to feel like parenting is totally unenjoyable right now.”
“It’s okay to struggle. It’s okay to make mistakes. It’s okay to not know. It’s okay to not have it all together. Even as I am having a hard time on the outside . . . I remain good inside. I am good inside.”
“I’m here, overwhelmed feeling. I see you. I’ll listen to you. You’re a part of me, not all of me. I’ll sit with you.”
“You’re really sad about that. You’re allowed to be, sweetie.” “I’m right here with you. I’m so glad we’re together talking about this.” “Sometimes we don’t have a way to feel better right away. Sometimes when things feel tough, the best we can do is talk nicely to ourselves and talk to people who understand.” “I love you. I love you the same no matter how you’re feeling and no matter what is happening in your life.”
It often takes externalizing a struggle to reduce the shame and self-blame inside of us, which frees up the space for our more compassionate, problem-solving voices to emerge.
“I keep thinking about earlier today [reflection], when I came into the playroom after you knocked over your sister’s tower. I’m sure you were upset about something to have knocked it down [acknowledgment]. I’m sorry I yelled. I wish I had asked more about what was going on for you instead [what to do differently]. Can I have a redo? Can you tell me what was happening before you knocked it down? It’s important. I’d love to listen and understand [curiosity].”
“I reacted harshly to your question and I am guessing that felt really bad to you . . . I see that and I’m sorry and I love you”
“I was in a bad mood yesterday—I was stressed about work and it wasn’t your fault when I got annoyed that you didn’t like dinner. That was a me thing, not a you thing, and I wish I hadn’t taken it out on you,” (reflecting, acknowledging, saying what I’d do differently).
“Wow, you’ve been working so hard on that tower. I know it’s going to be tricky to pause and take a bath. If we do a quick bath now, you will have time to build more before bed.” “I know it’s so hard to end playdates, because you’ve been having so much fun! We have to leave now, but Matias’s mom and I can set up your next playdate really soon.”
tantrums are biological states of dysregulation, not willful acts of disobedience.
“Two things are true: I’m in charge of this decision and my answer is no. You’re in charge of your feelings and you’re allowed to be upset.”
“My number one job is to keep you safe, and right now safety means carrying you to your room and sitting with you there. You’re not in trouble. I love you. I’m here.”
“You’re a good kid having a hard time. I’m here. I love you. Do your thing. You’re allowed to feel this way.”
“It’s so hard to see your brother get new shoes. Can you get new ones? Not right now, sweetie. In this family, every kid gets what they need—and your shoes are still in great shape. You’re allowed to be upset. I get it.”
“Wow, that was rude. But, sweetie, you must be feeling overwhelmed to have reacted that way. That’s more important than your tone. So let’s start there—what was today like? I want to understand.”
“You’re a good kid who had a hard time earlier. I know that. Nothing you do or say will ever change how much I love you.”
