My kids have a lot of feelings about things and their feelings about things aren’t always easy. What’s more, I’ve been telling them since before they could talk that their feelings matter, that they have a right to share them and that I will (try to) listen. (Sometimes this is prevented by the need to, for example, merge into traffic on the freeway since both my kids have this uncanny ability to bring up heavy topics when I am most distracted.) For the most part, this has worked out. My kids are fluent speakers of the often complex language of feelings, which means that I can help them process events and that they are able to problem-solve for themselves when something isn’t working for them. They are also compassionate kids and I’m not just saying that.
But there’s a flip to this, which is my god, sometimes I want to outlaw feelings. Stupid feel good seventies! I grew up on Sesame Street and their “sad, mad, glad” sketches and it shows! See, back in the alleged good old days, kids didn’t feel — they stuffed those feelings! They stuffed ‘em and grew up to be alcoholics and had unhappy marriages and ulcers but at least their mothers got a break, right?
There is no rest for the feeling-oriented mother. (Of course, mothers back in the day didn’t get to have feelings either; they just had Valium. Ask Betty Draper.)
Anyway, the feelings in my house? They are flying so thick that I can barely walk through the kitchen without knocking into one of them. I am processing with my kids every time I turn around. I am looking into their eyes with compassion and good listening skills several times a day and I am tired. There’s one kid on the cusp of adolescence and one kid still working out her little brother’s arrival and it’s a lot, let me tell you.
Besides wearing me down and making me old before my time, I also sometimes worry that all of this respect for feelings creates feelings. I know that’s not true (Sesame tells me that’s not true) but sometimes I hear other people’s voices ringing in my ears and these voices say, “If you’d ignore it, maybe it would go away. Maybe you’re coddling all of those feelings.” This is partly because that’s the kind of the message that we send each other (the collective we) and partly because these feelings are hard and I do wish they’d go away. Not that I want my kids to stuff how they feel — I just wish their feelings were all happy. All happiness, all the time. Go away bad feelings! Missing someone? Feeling lonely? Worried about tomorrow? Have a cookie! Have a drink! Pop a pill! Watch tv!
Ok, so maybe not quite the good old days.
Abby and I talked at length about this over the weekend because Abby is the same kind of feelings junkie that I am and you know, her kids are needy in the same way mine are. I said, “I don’t see other parents going through XYZ — do you think we’re creating it?” And she said, “I don’t think those parents are allowing it. If we allow it, then it’s going to come out. If we don’t allow it, it won’t stop it — it’ll just stop coming out.”
I think she’s right.
Noah is turning out swell so far (knock wood) and so I thought I’d be a more confident parent the second time around and for the most part I am. But every kid is different and every kid has their own personal path and you know, I revisit my decisions a lot more than I thought I would. I needed the encouragement Abby gave me to stay strong and keep on lending words to my kids when they can’t find their own instead of giving in to the siren song of the loving brush-off that goes like this, “Oh you are fine! Now run along and find yourself something to do!”
(I remember having horrible, gut-wrenching worries in kindergarten and they were as real and as insomnia-producing as my fully-fledged adult worries are now. I imagine it’s the same way for my kids even when their worries and fears seem small.)
It’s hard. It’s really hard to always be there and to listen without getting discouraged or impatient or annoyed or so sad that I try to run away from what they’re saying. It’s hard to listen without judgment and reflect back what they’re saying and carefully couch suggestions to help them find their own way out. It’s hard not to give unasked for advice. It’s hard not to say, “If you’d only…” or “Why can’t you…” It’s just hard. Parenting is hard. Parenting, unfortunately, is not for sissies.
As someone who grew up in a household where feelings were considered dangerous and yet I was very feeling-oriented, I worry about over-coddling just with myself and I’m sure I’d worry about it a million times more as a parent. I really appreciate posts like this.
You really need to meet Abby, Thorn. She wasn’t at Pennie’s shower because her husband had a family reunion. This has been a helluva weekend.
You know I can relate to this, because I am the feelings person and of my two kids only one is, but the other one NEEDS to be!
But it is tiring always hearing the children. Always watching and waiting for what they are feeling. I would still do it the same way if I could change it, but it is tiring.
People do think I talk with the kids too much – “why do you have to tell them everything about transplant?” oh, the list I have of stupid thing people have said to this SN mom
Oh, wow, can I relate to this post! Yes, talking feelings can be EXHAUSTING! But more exhausing are all the people who think I’m planting feelings in them by talking to them about feelings!
RIGHT — if only I never mentioned it, they’d never think about their birth parents, worry about why they were abandoned, think anything is wrong when someone chants, “Chinese eyes! Chinese eyes!”
RIIIGGGHHHTTTTT!
I dunno, Dawn. Research shows that much of what is popularly believed about feelings is totally wrong. It ISN’T, for example, good to ‘vent’ your anger. That just rehearses it and makes it a more permanent part of your personal story.
I’m 100% behind listening compassionately to our kids, but one of the skills I try to impart is a sense of when we’ve done the feelings and we’re moving on to something else. I can remember with my oldest, learning to say, “Yeah, I think you’ve fully experienced this, time to put the socks on.” A 3 year old who wipes his nose and starts with footgear at that point IS done. Even a super emotional one who draws a ragged breath is starting on a good skill. After all, although we need to know that we’ve been heard, being heard doesn’t fix everything that’s wrong. Sometimes nothing does, and only time may help, and we do SOMETHING in the mean time.
If you’re exhausted, there are at least 2 other places to look. First, how does being exhausted fit into your life. Is that what you want to be doing? “wearing me down and making me old before my time?’ Is there a reason that works for you? It might very well, and I’m not saying it shouldn’t, but you might wonder why you’re making this choice for yourself and your family.
The question is, what function is this processing serving OTHER than fitting the story? Because really, everyone in your family (like most families) is under a lot of stress, financial, family transitions, and so forth, and it may be that grappling with all these feelings gives you an element of distraction, which is all good, unless its starting to cut into someone’s functionality.
That’s all just my opinion, though. I hope, whatever you do with all this, you keep writing about it. I always have interesting things to think about when you post.
Brooke, I’ve got a kid processing her adoption and every time we talk about it, she moves further through her story. It’s not just venting — it’s getting ahead so that she can work through it, incorporate it as her story, (which is part of the natural, healthy development of the adopted kid) and moving forward. You should dig deeper into my blog ‘cuz if it’s one thing I have down as a parent, it’s helping my kids move FORWARD in their feelings. Also, the line about “old before my time?” I’m playing it funny. But it is exhausting and I get why there are parents who say, “shut up and put your coat on” because sometimes that’s tempting.
I saw the articles on the research and there’s a difference between wallowing and expressing emotion to help process next steps.
I do understand that. My son has to grieve the death of his father over and over again… every time he hits a developmental change or a life transition he experiences that loss in a different way, and all necessary. And I understand why adoption stuff will be PARTICULARLY critical now, with the new baby.
But… pace yourself, is all I’m saying. You’ve got a lot on your plate.
Feelings are dumb and they should go away. FOREVER! They just complicate everything and, in the end, nothing is solved. EVER! Maddie will always be adopted, Noah, Lena, and Liberty will all have their traumatic birth experiences that made them be the same people and we’ll always have to deal with it. I’m pulling a page out of my mom’s book and I’ma just tell them all, “SHUT IT!” And that will be that.
Abby, you are wise beyond your years!
Your last paragraph is so so true about parenting.
And it is also true about counseling. I feel this so often with the clients I see.
As my kiddo gets bigger and processes more verbally, I am sure I will be right there with you. The non-verbal part is hard for me because I’m such a word person. When she is tantrumming without words, I think I know what it is about, but I am not always right.
My grandma always told me I was wallowing in self-pity every time I wanted to talk about my parents’ divorce. I knew I needed to talk things out, but I had to go to other adults to get it – mainly my aunts. I wonder now if I had been encouraged more to talk through the divorce and my sadness at not living with my parents if it would have brought out all the abandonment issues that I only started processing a few years ago. But my grandma was definitely in the ignore it and move on and it will go away school of thought. She thought she was doing right by me.
Hang in there.
Thanks for putting into words my own thoughts and feelings!
Parenting really isn’t for sissies is it?
You know, ther is nothing wrong with “feeling” your feelings … but different people have a need to feel them more or less! I need to feel things a certain amount … talk about them a certain amount … but much less than my sister. I’m pretty sure I’m not hanging on to stuff or “stuffing it down,” I just don’t feel things as *much* or as *often* as she does. Which is fine, it’s however you’re wired, right?
It sounds like you are a feelings person, and Noah is a feelings person, and Madison has some heavy-duty feelings going on right now, which it seems logical to me would need more processing.
But the sense that you are doing *more* exploring/discussing of feelings than other parents? You probably are! Which, great if that is what you and your kids need. I just try to be aware of my kids’ feelings since I am on the lesser-expressing/discussing side, in case they are not …
I’m a big feel-er and discusser of feelings myself. It’s tough to temper that with the fact that in life there are many instances that require us to suck it up and keep going, regardless of our feelings. Where I struggle with this with my daughter is discerning what’s a true feeling that needs expressing, when she’s done, and when it’s just a need for attention that’s being expressed, not an actual feeling that needs to be processed, or overemphasize any negative feelings she might have, KWIM?
So, for example: if she tells me about her fears about going to kindergarten, my challenge as a parent is to hear those fears, validate them, and reassure her without overemphasizing her fear to the point that she assumes that I’m really upset and worried about her going to K too. I’ve come down on the wrong side of that a couple times and it’s a mess to clean up!
I don’t think it’s mutually exclusive to suck it up AND to feel your feelings. Because a lot of the times all you can do is be sympathetic and then push them to do whatever it is ANYWAY. Noah is someone who has to process things a lot but we always have to nudge him forward while he’s processing. I’ve found Madison much more challenging because she is not someone who wants to feel her feelings — she wants them to go away and so my job with her is to get her to stop running and deal with her hurt. So like with Noah? I’d say, “I know you’re scared. You’re the kind of person who likes to get used to things first but today there isn’t time to get used to things so you’re going to have to take a deep breath and head in there.” But because we have a history of respecting him and his need to stop and think on things, he’s much more willing to believe us when we push.
Maddie though — she really is a whole ‘nother ball of wax. The thing that keeps me going with her is that once she gets past the big, stuck feeling place, her freedom from it is almost palpable. It’s very gratifying (Noah needs ongoing check ins) but getting her there is also hard.
No, I don’t think it’s mutually exclusive either — just HARD. Hugs to you!
I think about this a lot. My daughter is very quiet and clingy in new situations and many other parents tell me that it’s my fault, that I must be overprotecting or hovering or some other taboo of parenthood. But really, she just needs time to warm up. It’s true that she doesn’t cry if I just leave her (at preschool, with a babysitter, etc) but just because she’s reserved doesn’t mean that it’s a healthy situation for her. I choose to respect her feelings and stay with her until she feels safe.
On the flip side, I notice that she really takes cues from me about her feelings. If I “plug in” when she is having a spaz about not getting the pink cup at dinner, she will amp up the drama (for my benefit?) about how she NEVER gets the pink cup or whatever. Sometimes it’s symptomatic of something else that we can talk about but usually it’s just being overtired or hungry. In those cases I do minimize her feelings, because I feel like part of my job is to teach her scale. How to move past small disappointments without it injuring her soul, I guess. Sometimes you just have to put on your boots and stomp across the driveway instead of feeling every piece of gravel with your tender toes. But not all the time.
I think it’s great that you’re taking the time and energy to honor the Big Stuff. At the risk of condescending (which I do not intend, I just hate offering assvice), if you feel drained maybe you CAN encourage them to “find something to do” that channels their emotions. That doesn’t mean their feelings are dismissed, but maybe that they can process them a different way. Art, dance, music, building stuff, getting muddy, etc. can be tools that work when the words get too exhausting.
Scale is an important lesson. Pushing Noah to figure things out on his own more is part of this (re., your advice) but the stuff Madison is dealing with doesn’t lend itself to that. It’s just where we are now.
I think what makes Madison’s situation so tricky (and I suspect, so interesting to those of us who read your writing about it) is that it’s uncharted territory. There’s not a book out there about how to navigate this. I think you and she are doing an admirable job. I suspect that if you were the type of mother who encouraged her daughter to bottle this stuff up (or just didn’t acknowledge her feelings as valid), she would deal with it at another time in her life, and perhaps not so directly.
Don’t you love how I worked “suspect” in their twice? It makes me sound so…suspicious.
I’m reading “How to talk so kids will listen and listen so kids will talk” and just realized something. I’m on the 2nd chapter and it’s all about acknowledging kids’ feelings in a way that encourages them to keep talking and process their feelings. This is an old book and you’ve probably read it but what just struck me is that I assumed that “everyone” just assumed it was “right” to acknowledge feelings instead of saying, “Oh, it’ll be ok.” Of course the book isn’t as groundbreaking now as it was, what, 20 years ago? But this is obviously still a topic that bears discussing and revisiting.
Both DH and I talk about feelings CONSTANTLY b/c we are big external processors–I think it’s healthy, and it resolves conflict faster. I’m curious as to how you handled this when they were younger. I remember back when Madison was two, you did a really amazing job dialoging with her, even back then, about her feelings and her processing. I’ve got a highly verbal two year old myself now, and I’m trying to give her the vocabulary to talk about feelings without giving her a “script.” It’s hard. She went through a few weeks of being OBSESSED with whether or not we were having “happy day” and now she’s obsessed with if we are having “hard time? need hug?” I’m not sure if I’m tackling this in the healthiest way or not.
Like everyone else, I can totally relate. In fact, going through major drama now with my oldest son. He is expressing himself, very well, in writing (how shocking!) and I am thrilled but simultaneously it makes me wanna run and hide cuz like, dude, now I have to DO something with those feelings.
Add me to the crew of folks that grew up in a household where feelings were not allowed. My father actually TOLD me I could not feel until I was out of his house (btw, he is an alcoholic. That is how he deals with his own feelings).
I am a feeling, thinking, INFJ, gemini, therapy junky. I believe it makes me a better person over all but it does make it tough to be be me and probably even tougher to be a partner, friend or child to me.
Hugs to you and yours.
I’m very close to Suz on the Meyer’s Briggs as an INFG — a very feeling person, having to talk things out, feelings oozing out of every pore, and I can tell you from personal experience that while it may be exhausting for your family to talk about them now I give you huge KUDOS for doing so. I came from a stoic family where we weren’t allowed to do so, where feelings were figuratively stuffed and in my case, literally as it “came out” in later years as an eating disorder (in recovery for many years now).
Keep doing what you’re doing, Dawn. I think you’re a fantastic mother, an inspiration for me as I navigate some of the tough waters of adoptive parenting. I’m glad you’re here and talking about this stuff. I just have a boy who doesn’t always WANT to talk about his feelings, but at least he knows that he can.
xo,
Judy
That should read INFP. I don’t think there is a G category there, LOL!!
Judy, I’m an INFP, too! INFPers unite!!!!
I’ve always been strongly INTP, but I’ll bet I’m getting more feely in my old age.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/09/30/sesame-street-does-mad-me_n_305522.html
Sesame Street Does Mad Men.
Lots of introverts, eh?
: )
Wow. So much here- and I relate to it all. Did you read the NYT article on the anxious mind in the magazine this past sunday? I think a lot of us feelers and processers might tend to be wired a bit more anxiously, but have figured out a way to manage it well (if effortfully!) through processing. Its so hard with kids, but good for you for doing it- and doing it well. My own mother did a great job of encouraging me how to express myself, but then made it about her when she “listened.” I.e., she didn’t really listen… so untangling that has been complicated. And yes, we LOVE that book “How to talk…”
By the way (totally OT), that stuff for Roscoe WAS from Madison- because I certainly wouldn’t have sent it if it wasn’t for her! Love thinking about the stripy pjs on him.
You are very sweet, Cynthia!! I haven’t read (or heard about) the NYT article so I’m going to look it up. We are a trio of anxious people and Madison is generally much less so, which is what makes her continued (and intense) separation anxiety sometimes hard to expect and handle well. I am shooting in the dark!!!