“Never let ‘em see you sweat.” “Because I’m the parent, that’s why.”
Children with chronic trauma histories (some of which begins in-utero, remember) often approach adults as big phonies who make big promises they won’t deliver on. The more we pretend to have it all figured out, the more they question our authenticity. Even more problematic, some children make it their goal to poke at us until we finally snap, thereby confirming their belief that we are not worthy of the respect we ask of them.
Some of you may know that I’ve finagled my way into the community here in Flagstaff by way of a couple of gumball machines (from which I dispense poetry I’ve written) every Sunday morning at our makers market. Participants are surprised that it is a free experience then are presented with the expectation that they offer me a word I’ve never heard, a fact I do not know, sing me a song, or tell me a joke. The idea is simply a playful, friendly swap of ideas. People take it surprisingly too seriously, so I remind them I don’t even know their dog’s name. I’ve come to think of it as my Vulnerability Game. I am quite content with my status as an unpublished poet but still cringe a bit when sharing my poetry with anyone. Part of me half expects ridicule. I’ve come to think of it as my Vulnerability Game.
Vulnerability Game
Each accepts an invitation that expires soon
A house built of time-shared close listening
Rules perfectly clear
Misunderstanding never given a chance to
Take its shoes off
We exchange our tender places
as if on fresh pillowcases
Surprised we are satisfied with just this taste.
My education in Psychology and Counseling drilled into me to never self-disclose. I understand that to a point but only to a point. I recognize the value in holding some cards close to my chest, so to speak, but there are also times when a little bit of self-disclosure makes it easier for anyone to speak freely. I think this is what I mean by the vulnerability game. That people come back week after week and often bring family and friends; suggests I’m doing something right. Children come back week after week. For a poem for Pete’s sake! But also to show off what they know. I’ve heard too many chicken and cow riddles…
Looking back at the poem above, consider the phrase “time shared close listening.” Let me be perfectly clear, your life isn’t a time share, it is day in, day out. Secondly, you’re struggling to understand what might successfully calm this child and make life with them just a little smoother. Unfortunately, they aren’t listening for how to make things smoother, they are listening (and looking), for how to make things more familiar and the life with which they have become familiar was anything but smooth. So in an effort to bring a smidgen of routine to your days, life is fraught with many more rules and misunderstandings are happening minute by minute rather than as described in my little poem.
The next line, however, is where we converge. When you role model your tender places, you open the door to such vulnerability in return. When you let it be known that you need a break, you set a tone for what it means to be an emotionally responsible person and that you practice what you preach. When you share that you are worried about a friend or family member, you invite a child to be gentle with you and show their capacity for empathy. These things must be said. They aren’t magic, though. Opening that door doesn’t guarantee the child will step through it.
Opening that door does, however, show you to be a full human: strong and vulnerable, resourceful and stumped, generous and limited, patient and maxed out. None of us is perfect. Being a parent doesn’t require that we act as if we are. I invite you to be at peace with your boundaries and to make it a practice of giving yourself time to do what feeds your soul. Build rhythmic activities into your days, especially at transitions. Be planful about what your child (and you) might need when situations become overwhelming. Celebrate when those strategies work for you or your child! Your child isn’t the only one who needs strategies to calm their nervous system, you do, too.
Peace,
Cathy
