Parenting – Page 4 – Soul Reflection

Anger

I recently got cross with a dear friend’s little girl. It had been bubbling a while, something that I needed to take some time to look at and also a reflex. I had spent the weekend being told a series of untruths, just as children do, but one came after too many and I had enough. I was angry, not wildly so, I didn’t say or do anything terrible but it was clear I was annoyed and cross. As many of us know, this a great faux pas. To be angry with another person’s child is a line that ought not to be traversed.

I apologised, and I meant it, both to child and mother but that line had been crossed and therein lies an issue.

I “shouldn’t” have been angry with her.

Except where there are ‘shoulds’ there are unhealthy shadows, more over it has been done, it can’t be undone, yet the focus is so often about trying to erase its memory, trying to find a way to discount it from our past. Why have we got such an aversion, such a stigma around anger? Of course, we can always endeavour to find the kind way, of course we can learn from our outbursts and try to do it differently next time, but why are we, as a society, so unforgiving about anger? If someone does something to upset you surely it is healthy to let that out? And even with the very best of intentions, sometimes that comes as an explosion. I don’t believe that anger is a bad energy, it is One of our energies and it is important to acknowledge it.

I look at all the sickness in the world right now and so much is spawn from anger; I am closely present to a darling friend trying to save her own life as she heals herself of cancer, and she has Anger. She has anger from her childhood, so buried within her system that it is making her mortally sick. And I can promise you, that anger is well deserved, I know a fraction of her story and she has every right to be mad as hell. I expect she has her moments of daily anger, she has a political rant every now and again, but she needs to get crazy angry for a moment, a real stomach churning, yeti screaming, puce face eruption of energy and get it out. But where can she do this? Where is there permission to do this? Instead she is supposed to move on, forgive, take the high road, have compassion. Well she does, she has all of those in buckets and spades but she needs her anger too. She needs is so that she can live to see her children grow up and so that I can make my way to Oz and give her a bloody big hug.

So I go back to this place I’m at right now where I feel so horrible for having been angry with this lovely little girl, I feel mean and ogre-ish and yet there is a tendril poking up through my shame that says, ‘it’s ok’, ‘you got cross because right then you needed to’, ‘you apologised because you’re nice too’ and actually I think that is true.

And I am grateful to this experience, as much as the fences that need building between me and my friend are hurting my soul, I know this reflection on my own anger is healing and positive. I know that I am going to take it into my own family and give greater permission for my kids and my husband AND Me to have our outbursts. That instead of shaming those moments, instead of shaming me for being perceived as imperfect, I am going to feel that energy course out of my system and return to peace.

Anger is welcome here.

I’m Done

I have been breastfeeding for 6 years, 9 months and 17 days.

And now I’m done.

My little boy decided that today would be the day he was to stop having his milk; tonight we celebrated this choice at a restaurant for supper; and this very evening he has soothed himself to sleep for the first time in his life.

He is 4 years and 1 month old. My daughter was 3 years and 11 months old when she chose to stop.

When I was pregnant with my daughter, my first born, I thought that I would breastfeed for 6 months as that is all that a baby really ‘needs’, according to current trends. 6 months of nutrition and immunity, then done!

Except that she arrived into the world with the amazing support of my awesome midwife who imparted to me, subtly and gently, ancient wisdom of mothering. So instead of deciding to stop at 6 months, I adopted a ‘wait and see’ attitude. Indeed, if you’d asked me back then if I’d be feeding my kids until they were 4 I would have been horrified, thankfully I didn’t make plans either way.

By removing this rigidity, I was able to step into real connection with my breastfeeding relationship. By feeding on demand, I was able to look beyond the process as just scheduled meals and begin to recognise the cues associated with emotional needs, hunger needs, ailments needs. I began to see the enormous depths that this relationship creates between me and my children.

A friend recently wrote to me “… it all makes sense to me now the older she gets. Before I was a mum I used to look at breastfeeding as just nutrition but I understand now it’s so much more.”

This is the sadness I feel around the breastfeeding status in society at the moment, unless we give ourselves the opportunity to see beyond that 6 month plan, it can be so hard to understand, to really get into connection with what else breastfeeding provides.

This is just a small part of what it has meant for me and my children. It has naturally imparted all the health benefits of shared immunity; the nutritional magic that nature created; it has protected against allergens by coating the gut lining; it has been a reassuring source of hydration and nutrition during times of sickness; it has soothed pains of bruises, cuts, new teeth and even broken arms. That’s the physical stuff.

Emotionally it has helped my children transition from one developmental shift to another. They have had a non-verbal base to return to when the adventures of the world have proved a little too much. In those moments of high emotion when rational conversation is just beyond reach, the boob has restored their centre and calm. It makes so much sense to me that the average age of full term breastfeeding is 4 years old (the bell curve ranging from 2.5 to 7) as this is an age where they begin to introduce rational thought into those tumultuous feelings and therefore to self manage those highs and lows.

It is not an easy process and there have been many moments along the way when I have had to sit and reflect on my choices, their importance for me, for my kids, for my husband and indeed with the outside world too. Tandem feeding was, psychologically, one of the hardest things I have ever done and there are times I have had to remind myself that holding boundaries around my breasts is not in conflict with my aims & philosophy.

Yet without a doubt, it has been an amazing journey and one for which I am profoundly grateful. In these early years, when my head has been in a spin and I have not grounded myself as I’d of liked, my kids have been able to ground themselves on my breast; it has brought me back to nature, to trusting the miraculous power and intelligence of this force; it has given my kids a solid foundation from which to sprout and grow wildly.

I choose to share all of this because I know I would have loved to have read this support and encouragement when I was finding my way through this adventure, when faced with opposition and judgement, I would have wanted to read these words. That does not mean it is a directive to all woman, it does not have to be received as another guilt inducing blog for those that have done things differently, it is just my story for those that wish to hear it.

With blessings to all mamas, on all their journeys xx

Good Children

When my daughter was two there was a flash point between my own mother and myself as I heard her praise her granddaughter with the words ‘good girl’, frequently and repetitively. Nothing wrong with that? My mother didn’t think so and understandably so, it is a standard reinforcing phrase for our children, encouraging and affirming, right?

Except that I didn’t agree. I didn’t want my daughter being fed this belief that she was good if she managed to fit a shape into its matching hole, or if she tidied the animals back into the box. Yes I wanted to affirm her actions, encourage her explorations and adventures, but I didn’t and don’t want my children to believe that they are either good, or conversely bad, for arbitrary things.

I remembered this incident this evening as I flicked on the television and an image flashed up of a celebrity in a third world environment endorsing some ‘saving’ protocol. It irritated me and I took a moment to wonder why. What came up for me was the fact that all these endorsements can so often come from wanting to be perceived as good, worthy of love, worthy of their status by doing the ‘right’ thing. I do not know any of their individual motivations and I don’t want to crush the spirit of charity and philanthrophy, in the slightest; but there is a truth that some of these processes do more harm than good, some corporations pay a face to promote something that may not be the best for those in need or for the environment. Yet, if egos are schmoozed into believing they are doing ‘good’ in the world, it hits that childhood reinforced message – you are loved if you are good and the deeper questions, the deeper morality actually don’t have to be mentioned.

Goodness 1 v Humanity 0

Boy, I do not want my kids or anyone, or me (!) to feel like they have to be good to be loved. Within 24 hours I can be so wonderful, kind, patient, loving, attentive, generous and also hateful, jealous, angry, spiteful and mean. I still want to be loved. I still want to love myself for those whole 24 hours not just the ‘good’ bits. I want to be able to stand up to the world and shout out the injustices, the misdoings, the corruption and still be lovable even if it means I have not toed the party line.

I want my children to feel like they can say no to being seen to be good, if actually it is not real kindness, real honesty, real humanity. Being good used to represent those things, but it has become generic & soulless, our generations have been so numbed by this baseless praise that we are responding like Pavlov’s dogs to it. Tell us we are good and we won’t ask any more questions…

Does that resonate?

Another Day, Another War

‘The World can’t be “fixed” now — it has to be healed. And healing is not an event, it is a process.’

Marianne Williamson

Today, our country has agreed to bomb Syria, in the name of humanity and yet so far from true humanity.

Innocents will continue to die.

The discussion on social media is all about killing, how can we justify killing, ‘the greater good’, shootings in America, gun control, refugees. Every voice is strong, powerful, vehement and righteous. Understandably so, on all sides, of every argument.

And I think I know why.

I think we really need to start at the very beginning. I have a passion for understanding human psychology, my father was an eminent psychiatrist and he definitely passed this trait of curiosity on to me. I struggled (and still do in some ways) with anxieties, self harming, destructive patterns for years and, although through some of the worst of those years by the time I reached parenthood, I wanted to understand the psychology of our children enough to try and break some of those chains that bind.

So many parenting decisions, therefore, have been fed with the context of what effect they might have on the psychological stability of my children. It opened up an unfathomable new world.

Against our animal impulses, we are predominately raising children to be disassociated from instincts, security, attachment, intuition and solid foundations. This is not a blame or finger pointing exercise and there are huge variable for every individual but it is important to start seriously considering these influences on the lives of our future generations & communities.

In exploring the neuroscience (Why Love Matters by Sue Gerhardt) of children’s brain development and the repercussions that ignoring animals’ needs for security, survival & nurture can have, the world implodes. The hatred, violence, disconnection from compassion & humanity can be unravelled by understanding how our current view of parenting is shaping the world. Why are our descendents getting angrier? Why are they hurting so much that they are hurting others?

Because they are disconnected. If we leave our children’s cries unheard and unresponded to, then they never will truly believe that there is any safety for them in the world. If we control their behaviour to unreasonable, age inappropriate, expectations, then they will never believe they are good enough, capable enough. I damage my children, I scream at times and I witness the damage that does to their psyche in front of my eyes, the safety I provide shrivels when I am raging, when I am expressing my disconnect from compassion. Each of these elements is just a small part of an enormous whole. In America, women receive 6 weeks maternity leave, their babies are being left, their animal attachment is being severed way too early, way too soon.

Do we really think that if our children were brought up with a deep knowing and sense of their worthiness and trust in unconditional love, do you think any of them would be suicide bombers, or war waging politicians? Really?

That is where we need to start. We need to bring back the understanding of our small actions as individuals, as parents, as carers to raise each child with enough humanity to stop the wars.

Subtlety

There is a current and ongoing discussion in mainstream media around children’s education: reading ages, extended play, European differences, SATS, assessments, pressure, summer children.

Parents fighting for their children’s right to childhood cross checked with the government’s pressure to increase literacy, create constant childcare, push parents back to work.

In our little family, we are currently in the Steiner system for our children’s education. They play with wooden toys, hold strong daily rhythms, spend plenty of time outdoors until they are 6 or 7. Then they begin to learn their academics, slowly, carefully they are taught their letters entwined into magical stories, numbers have context, languages introduced subtly & playfully – learning is gentle, enjoyable, fun. It is not a perfect system but it is working for us.

My daughter (6) is loving her new foray into ‘big school’, she tells me with excitement all the new things she had discovered in her hours there. She cannot wait to read. And I am so glad she is waiting…

I have noticed many subtleties around this principle, the debate is not just about literacy and intellectual potential, there are so many other layers. I notice the loud words on billboards, the confusing messages at bus stops and on shop windows and I’m really glad that she can’t read yet. I’m so pleased that she has another few minutes of innocence before she is assaulted with ideas and concepts too old for her years. And there are even smaller subltleties; how we still get our evening moments when I read to her, where we enjoy our stories unfolding together. She has always loved books and as soon as she can read she will, like I did, disappear into a world of books. She will sit for hours, absorbed, entranced and away from us, that is what I predict. I cannot fault her is she chooses to do this, it is one of my greatest pleasures, to escape into another realm, but I will miss her so much. We will; her brother, her father and I.

And as I think about this, I realise how the subtleties of life are so often missed in amongst the warring, the shouting, the brash and constant conflict out in the big wide world. The subtleties of so many issues, breastfeeding, birth, ISIS, religion, feminism, all of these big topics have a gazillion subtleties that if we stopped and observed them could entirely shift the energy of discussion. For me, it is the idea of looking for the beauty, looking for the understanding, rather than fighting for the principle or the dogma.

The core guts that can mean so much but yet become the quiet, unspoken, unobserved aspects of our issues – the emotional role breastfeeding plays in a child’s development; the empowering rite of passage of a vaginal birth; the deeper ideology of religion that transcends ego; the space for humanity to usurp the need for feminism. These are all subtleties that are lost in the black & white sound bites of discussion, not enough characters in our tweets, not enough vavoom for a headline. Subtlety has been forgotten.

The Gift

I have spent quite a lot of today crying.

The day started well, I was calm with my kids as we prepared for school and all details that entails, the morning ran smoothly and I reached a crafting session in good time and in good spirits. I have been crafting these last few weeks to prepare for a community Christmas event, creating seasonally themed trinkets to sell at a fair.

I do not want to scour through the ins and outs of what happened next but the very brief synopsis is that one member of the group informed me that my crafting ‘standard’ was not high enough, not acceptable enough for sale. There are so many ways in which this could have been received, processed, handled and I can imagine there even could be a time when I might let it roll of my proverbial duck’s back; instead I was utterly crushed.

Somehow, and I genuinely don’t know quite how, I managed to stay an hour and give a vague air of togetherness. I left as soon as was polite (please note still needing to please in some form or other) and came home to cry, a lot.

I have cried so much today that it has not been something that I have been able to hide from my kids, even if I wanted to, so I gave them my story. I told them that I was really sad because the crafts I had been making weren’t ‘good enough’ for this woman and she had told me in a way that felt unkind to me. My son (3) has told me that he will hit this woman next time for being naughty to me (!) and my daughter (6) has suggested more tactful ways she could have framed her message.

But one other thing did happen at supper. Both children decided to cut up their scrambled eggs (why not?) and my daughter started to speak to her little brother and then stopped. She turned to me and said, ‘I almost told him he was doing it wrong’….

A gift, the gift…. my husband always reminds me that there is a gift somewhere in a difficult situation… I have asked my daughter so many times to let her brother learn in his own way, I have explained how she got to experience all her firsts without anyone telling her she was ‘wrong’ and how wonderful it would be for her brother to have that too. And my words haven’t resonated and she has continued, until today, until she saw how crushed I have been by someone telling me I’m doing it wrong.

So thank you to that woman for the gift you have brought to my family; it’s felt hard, but totally worthwhile if it helps us to remember to let us each find our own way.

The Psychology of Health

I haven’t written much over the summer. Long days with my children, kicking back and trying to take it all in. From next year, I think I’ll just make the summer months official time off. Let go of the guilt….

This week my daughter started ‘big’ school and in a few more months, my youngest will begin at kindergarten; for the first time in six and a half years I will be getting some daytime hours ‘child free’. I’m a little ambivalent about it just now, excited about unknown potential and sad to be away from them. I have, however, begun to mull.

I am mulling where I am going with my work, with my writing, with what I offer to the world. Over this last year I have had two clients on the down low… just some gentle correspondence to offer some support and re-engage me in this other part of my passion. One client has been primarily on an emotional healing journey and the other on the early days of parenting. Both of which touch my soul.

Whilst my public Facebook page (A Naturally Contented Baby & Child) and my next book are parenting led, my interest is more expansive than just that and today I managed to name this for me – The Psychology of Health. My passion for natural parenting is all about the effects our choices have on the psychology of our children – and my work with adults explores holistic health at all angles.

So if you are also interested in the Psychology of Health – exploring it with me, wanting some guidance, I am about to step back into the saddle and out into the world….

Email me directly with any queries – amanda@soulreflection.co.uk

Blessings xx

Have Courage, Be Kind

A couple of months ago, we took our children to the cinema to see the new Cinderella. It fulfilled its promise and provided magic and sparkles a plenty; it also offered a beautiful motto, which hung gently throughout the film…. the dying words of Cinderella’s mother – ‘Have Courage, Be Kind’.

As an affirmation, it has resonated in our house and my daughter remembers it now and again, most often, when she is in need of some courage for herself. This week it has vibrated strongly for me…

I had reached a place in my parenting where I was really struggling. I have read my books and know my principles well, I am all for peaceful parenting; I am all for respecting my children’s individual characters; refraining from rigid rules and punishments; expressing my unconditional love to be absorbed as a foundational source of strength. I know how I want to parent and I know how I do parent. The truth is that at times my rules are rigid, that whilst I generally don’t punish, if they don’t tidy up at bedtime, they don’t get their story – honestly, I just haven’t found another way, yet. And unconditional love? Oh yes I feel it, I know it, but when I’m raging, when I’m tired and cross and over the crazy days, do they know it? Probably not.

I feel so sad about this, I witness the words I say at times, or the impatient tone that I use and wonder who the hell am I?

I am wounded

I am wounded with a great big, enormously, massive, gaping, pussing, infected wound.

It’s not always easy to see, there is no blood dripping and I get through my days well enough (in general), but my head swirls with endless trails of crippling thoughts and anxieties.

All I want is to be kind, to register the age and delicacy of my children and be compassionate towards that, to not expect too much of them and to honour their uniqueness. Isn’t that just being kind? Why do I find it so hard at times?

Because my wound is throbbing, and aching, and weeping.

Who is kind when they are in pain? Isn’t that one of the toughest things to be? Pain takes over the body’s responses leaving little room for more than survival; managing pain is all consuming, as those with chronic physical conditions know too well. Emotional pain ain’t much different.

But this week I sat down and started to look at the wound. I started to pick out the shards of dirt and dust that were making it so infected, I began to peel back the folds that were finding distorted ways to heal, I took a deep look inside to really figure out what this wound needs to be able to set me free.

I am working on this wound project with tandem support, I have committed to the online course of Bethany Webster (Womb of Light) whilst simultaneously reading the work of Dr Laura Markham (Peaceful Parents, Happy Kid). Bethany’s work is for me and my wound and Laura’s for my children.

I am at the very beginning but the few hours I have spent already just looking at this wound, simply looking and observing it for what it is, have already brought incredible energetic release. I have felt so liberated because I have discovered that it is not self inflicted – for so long I believed I had made it, created it in me, deserved it even. No. My job is to heal it.

My job is to do the work. To take courage in order to be kind.

Gratitude to Bethany Webster and Dr Laura Markham for their offerings to the world and to me.

Bully me, Bully you

I wrote this blog late last night and left it until today to reflect upon; this afternoon this quote from Caroline Myss popped up on my Facebook page and it captures the pure essence of what I am describing – we are responsible for our own emotional world.

***

‘The Bully’ is trending, perhaps not on twitter, but certainly in the western culture of blame and retribution. If we successfully label someone a bully, we make them wrong, and we become not only right but also a sympathetic victim. We become righteous and indignant in the way we have been treated and are able to excuse our own questionable behaviours as one ‘who has been bullied’.

My issue with this stance is that I don’t actually believe there are as many bullies around as the media would like us to believe.

For me a bully is someone who derives pleasure from their victim’s pain (please feel free to offer me an alternative to this definition), a sociopath perhaps. I think there are a multitude of clashing personality types, I think there is anger and disagreement and some who feel more empowered than others to speak up and out, to force their way if there is no opposition, but are they all bullies or victims?

As I sat outside my daughter’s kindergarten (age range 3-6) this week a mother and I were discussing her issues with some of the children. She labelled an older boy a bully for, in my view, being exuberant, wilful and adventurous. Don’t get me wrong, this particular little one works well with solid boundaries and will otherwise stretch them to Kingdom Come, but he certainly isn’t a bully. Has he upset other kids? Yes. Has he hurt other kids during play? Yes. Has he done any of it on purpose hoping to damage another child? Most certainly not. In fact, I’ve seen him hurt my daughter and I’ve seen the uncertainty and shame etched upon his face. This boy has conscience and a whole lot of love.

Aside from the obvious discomfort I have categorising a child of that age and disposition as a ‘bully’, it really brought home to me how distorted the definition of that has become. It is so damaging for everyone to start placing us all into pigeon holes of any description. It is damaging to the myriad of strong minded, strong willed, opinionated individuals who dare to stand up and be counted and are shot down for being ‘a bully’. It is damaging to all those ‘victims’ who become labelled into being disempowered, weak and broken rather than someone who has been knocked down and needs a hand getting back up.

Please don’t think I am dismissing the true emotional issues that come from the bully/victim relationship, I understand that both those parties need support and guidance to come out the other side and find peaceful and loving value in themselves. However, there are countless individuals who, guided by the media and our social protocol, refer to themselves as being bullied by someone or other, be it parent, teacher, boss, company or friend, and in doing so remove the option of ‘difference of opinion’; throw out the chance of a healthy, educating, potentially heated, discussion; and most importantly honouring and recognising that we are all unique individuals with vast and personal histories that create our myriad reactions.

Is it not better for the media to offer us ways to meet these challenges, with tools such as NVC (non violent communication) being taught in schools and boardrooms, rather than belittle us into our roles of right and wrong? What about reminders about how the complexities of characters in this world create the shifting dynamics of change and innovation? And messages that embrace our conflicting view points, rather than shooting down all those that contradict them?

I would love to see parents listening to their children’s tough day at school and, instead of storming to the head for a showdown about little bully x, empowering and teaching their children the tools to set boundaries, to say ‘No’ and to redirect unwelcome energy. Isn’t this going to change the dynamic of our society? Where everyone has a voice, no matter how strident or quiet, no matter how determined or unsure.

I hate hurting people’s feelings but I’m not always the most diplomatic in expressing my opinions. I am not a bully because of it; I am someone who is learning to soften my manner.

So when someone is disagreeable and vehement with it, let’s ask them to find a gentler tone and when another is subdued and frightened let’s hold their hand until they’ve found their voice.

Let us tear off those labels and know we are all capable of being bull-ish and all capable of being cowed; as the Bull & the Cow are the same, so are we.

Caretaking

So in this past week I have been asked in numerous ways for numerous reasons to caretake another person’s or child’s emotions.

It is my passion and my vocation to support and guide others through their highs and lows in this crazy old world but caretaking is something that I strongly disagree with, yet it’s a tempestuous subject. Just this last evening I have received an email from a woman labelling me non-compassionate because I am refusing to caretake her emotions. Am I cruel and callous? Or am I offering space for empowerment?

So what does caretaking actually mean to me?

For me, it means presuming or projecting someone’s emotional reactions and being proactive in taking steps to remove their pain. This can also result in me stepping out of my own authenticity and integrity, perhaps over stretching my own safety boundaries, in order to rescue someone from their feelings.

My own clarifying example came when I went on a workshop/retreat weekend way back in 2005 and part of that process included a sweatlodge. Having experienced claustrophobia since I was a child I was nervous of this ritual and hesitant to try it, however I am a sucker for throwing myself into each therapeutic experience and encased myself in this pitch black hot tent like the rest of the women. I lasted just one round. It brought up every delicate tendon of fear and I couldn’t hack it. I believe most of the other women stayed for the duration and emerged high, joyful and exuberant. I had come out alone and found the site mostly deserted; finding solitude by the river I slipped into a familiar pit of failure and sadness. Later that evening, I approached the head facilitator expressing my disappointment that I had not been better supported coming out of the lodge, that I had felt it difficult and no one had cared for me. She asked me one question.

Did you ask for help?

I got it. Straight away I got it. I had been wanting someone to caretake me, to imagine my feelings and to help me without me having to step up and speak those fears out loud. And where would that have left me?

It would have left me in place without growth, without experiencing the gamut of emotions that I ran through – from needing to leave the sweat, to my lurch of failure, to my place of wishing someone to rescue me and finally to reaching out for some support.

I believe when we caretake others we leave them disempowered and that serves no one. That is not to say we leave those who are vulnerable without support and nurture, but that instead of jumping into soften their discomfort, we can hold the space for them to unfold, to stretch, to reach further in asking for what they need and for acknowledging who they are. These are opportunities for spiritual & emotional growth.

So this past week I have twice been asked to rescue a child from an uncomfortable emotion either by my own actions or by influencing by eldest child and therefore her interactions. I have declined. I have been called non-compassionate and actually lots more besides. But I would not do it for my own child or friend or client, not because I lack compassion but because I want to offer them space to learn, to make tools to carry for life, to touch that ownership of their feelings and how they can process them. These are great gifts.

When we caretake others, we do so out of fear, worrying about someone’s potential suffering, deeply understandable, but also so limiting.

My choice is to encourage my loved ones and my peers to face their fears and discomfort, not to protect them from them, but I will happily hold their hand the whole way.