Parenting, Part 2

"I hate you," came the biting words from my 13-year-old brilliant, kind, insightful, good daughter who was not getting her way in what I deemed was a very unsafe request. I had this big fat PhD in psychology, could practically quote the theories of the G.O.A.T. theorists on human development, the needs of children, and parenting advice, and I had been working with parents for two decades in very similar circumstances...and, still, I cringed when I heard come right out of my very hurt mouth the words, "Well, you aren't very likable right now, either."

Oh, the mistakes we make! I can think of dozens of stories throughout my tenure as a parent that are not my best moments. I've made some crummy mistakes that have taken a while to work through with adult children who were ready to address the blunders I made all those years ago. Sometimes those blunders were errors I had realized, other times the news was new to me, and on some occasions, the way my child had understood what had happened was not aligned with my memories or intent at all. It's a tricky business to do what is really needed by the adult child and even harder to not do what is easy.

I realize for some the easiest thing to do when faced with the possibility of working out old poor parenting moments is to avoid any conversations about past mistakes. For others, it is remarkably easy to say, "I'm so sorry. I hope you'll forgive me," which is often what is desired but doesn't really address the issues underneath this at all. It pacifies and can end the discussion that no doubt needs so much more conversation and processing before true healing for the adult child and the relationship between parent and child can occur.

What really takes bravery is to keep the conversation going until the child and parent have SHARED their stories and LISTENED to the other's story and allowed the humanness of both to be the truth. THIS IS HARD AND PAINFUL! and necessary. Each time I have needed to walk this talk, I have felt the fear rise in my very gizzard. I've taken many slow deep breaths. I've heard my own inside-my-head-voice say, "You can do this. It is worth the discomfort. You love this person and would not want to short her. This is love."

And I strive to listen to the story that is my child's story. It is hers. It may not match my memory and it may be absolutely counter to my heart and values. Still, it is the story my child has been writing and reading for years in her mind. To her it is THE truth. Hearing the story might break my heart, it might leave me feeling very unknown, it might frighten me, and it might shock me at its foreignness. Listening and being sure your child is heard is so important. Sometimes the way your child wants you to hear it is to take full responsibility for the story. You can't. And if you do, you will have taken away the child's opportunity to work through the issue. You might say something like, I am sorry. Thank you for telling me. How is this showing you actually heard the story? or understood the struggles that made the story an issue? It doesn't. But it might appease your child as she assumes the above and moves forward as if the issue were resolved. I've seen this scenario many times and realize the dynamics of the underlying issues keep coming back in new skin.

I've also watched parents say, "That's not true at all," in one way or another. This dismisses the issue entirely and it is the parent invalidating the child. If this is one's temptation, I'd recommend the blanket but not understanding "I'm sorry" approach.

Try this one...but be ready for a longer road. Tell your truth and honor your child's truth. It looks like saying, "Gosh, that must have been awful all this time. You thought then and you think now that I did that. I am really sorry we didn't have this conversation long ago so that you could be free of this discomfort and pain. Can we talk about what you were experiencing then that I missed? and is there room to talk about what I had intended?"

Don't think for a minute that I do that one gracefully or perfectly every time. I don't. I'm a human being! There have been times that I am so shocked by what is shared that I can't catch my breath. Other times I have such sorrow for my child and the amount of suffering and time "apart" at least in our hearts that have come from the event the child has held all those years that all I can seem to do is weep. And still other times, I feel so utterly unknown and misrepresented in the memory that I feel a deep old loneliness creep in and flood me in its seeping way. What I try to remember in these cases is that we don't give up. Come back to the table. Keep offering to work it through when you are able. Don't just say, "Sorry," and move on. No one learns from this.

That said, if you know you are just not going to really listen and be patient and allow your adult child to work out their own stuff..."I'm sorry" and that is all is still dismissive but it is better than degrading your child by the silence of no response at all or the wreckage that comes from belittling them for sharing...they are likely good at doing that to themselves already!