Your child is throwing a fit. He’s two years old and lying in the middle of the grocery aisle, crying after you insisted he not lick the entire handle of the shopping cart. Or she may be 13 and unleashing a fireball of contempt aimed directly at your heart because you felt it prudent to at least meet the parents of her new best friend before allowing her to go on a week-long holiday with them.
But it’s not you. It’s them.
I was poignantly reminded of this last week while driving home from Victoria, using my phone’s GPS to direct me. Unfamiliar with the neighbourhood, I came upon a traffic light that turned from yellow to red sooner than I expected. I stopped abruptly enough that my phone slid from its perch next to me and was headed for the floor. Instinctively, I reached out and caught it.
It was at the same moment that a woman on the corner stepped onto the road. She was watching for the pedestrian light but not paying attention to traffic. While I stopped with at least two metres between us, I could instantly sense her indignation.
She started to yell and moved closer to the van, and I could see everything unfold seconds before it did. I looked down at the phone in my hand... I looked at her and mouthed an apology for frightening her, then asked if she was OK. Clearly not. She needed to get something off her chest and started ranting loudly. Yelling at me. Telling me to “get off the phone!”
It was a moment when all I could do was stare at her in wonder and wish she would continue on her way quickly, before the light changed again.
I had to remind myself: It’s not really about me. This is all about her. Don’t take it personally. Even if I could get out of my vehicle and explain the misunderstanding, I’m quite certain she wouldn’t be able to hear it. All I could do was energetically send her whatever it was I thought she might be missing in her life: love, patience, a sense that someone cared.
Her perception of the world was that of a threatening one in that moment. She was angry, scared and upset. I was the receptacle for all those emotions and more. As parents we are the receptacle for our children’s feelings. All the time.
Much like the woman on the street, our children have pent-up emotions that need a release. It’s one thing to give them that when you understand, but when you don’t, it can be a recipe for disaster.
Our children need to blow off steam, just like we do. But we have (in our better moments at least) cultivated more mature ways of doing this – we have a glass of wine and lean on our spouse, we call up our friend and hash it out on the phone, or we get out our physical aggression on a big hike.
When we understand that our kids need this too, it can make things much simpler. We can be that valve for them. It’s quite a gift, actually. As parents we can be that soft place to land. The trick is to welcome the emotions – all of them – and not take it personally.
Because after all, it’s not about you.