At this moment, my hands are shaking and I can’t catch my breath. It’s all I can do to hit the proper keys on the keyboard. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins, and the ‘precipitating event’ was nearly an hour ago.
What was the experience that shook me to my core, you ask? It was an encounter with my teenage daughter.
Now this 16-year-old is genuinely a good kid. We often describe her as the “punk-girl-next-door.” She is smart, loving, and fiercely loyal. Like most kids – yes, even teenagers – she really wants to please and do the ‘right’ thing.
Sometimes, though, its like she backs herself up against a wall, and she’s gonna come out swinging (not literally), no matter what happens.
Sound familiar? We all have those moments when our kids, spouses, co-workers – or, heaven forbid, even ourselves – lose touch with reality for a moment and shift into pure “reactivity” mode. (What to do when we’re the ones out of control is important, but the subject of another blog.)
The challenge here is to figure out what to do when we’re witnessing a scene from the “Exorcist” in our own lives. How do we meet that irrational energy without actively helping the situation to escalate out of control?
There is a simple answer, with two parts, neither of which is easy.
First, we must embrace the fundamental principle that other people’s mood management is about them, not about us. Second, we must choose to keep the focus on the other person without taking that behavior personally. As I said: maybe simple, but not easy!
Here’s what happened. My daughter stood at the bottom of the stairs, demanding explanation and trying to negotiate. I stood in the doorway to the family room, standing firm, and (very) tightly clenching my hands into fists by my side. She raised another objection. I took another deep breath. She insisted things were different. I walked out of view for a moment, took another breath, and pressed my palms really tightly together (they couldn’t get any tighter!).
This went on for what seemed like an hour, but in reality was probably only about 7 minutes. At some point – I honestly don’t know exactly how – we reached a moment of pause. I seized that moment to end the conflict. After all, the original content had long since disappeared in the passion of the encounter. Continuing it would have served no one.
So the adrenaline rush I’m experiencing didn’t come from yelling or arguing, pleading or demanding. The intensity came from listening, staying (mostly) calm, trying above all to keep my cool. OMG, I feel like I’m ready to explode!
Now I know there are John Rosemond followers out there who would challenge my exercise in patience (did I mention how hard my hands were pressed?). Controlling types would have me insist, draw the gauntlet, and walk away. And I did – sorta.
I walked away from shifting the focus of the encounter from her to me. My daughter’s inability to control her frustration – her reactivity in the moment – had nothing to do with me. It was her challenge, and I feel for her. Instead of muddying the waters in the heat of things by shifting the issue (“how dare she defy me!”), I kept the attention on her and the issue at hand.
Recognizing that she was not in a rational place, how could I best support her? She needed to do what I asked – not because I asked, but because she had given her word and needed to learn to hold herself to it. When I got clear on why it was important –that it was about her learning, not about my need for compliance – everything shifted for me!
As long as she was showing me respect – albeit defiance – I chose to make a distinction: her difficulty managing frustration is not the same thing as disrespecting me. This choice allowed her to regain her dignity when we found that blessed pause (yes, even teens deserve their dignity).
Is it hurtful that my child didn’t show me direct respect by following a clear direction? Sure it was. But when I think about it, she had apologized for screaming in the thick of things, and reigned it in a notch. Pretty good, actually, given how riled up she was feeling.
Understand, I am no saint. We’ve had some pretty major rows that I hold myself responsible for escalating. In the past, whenever I’ve taken her defiance personally, it has always added another layer, replacing the issue at hand with a new distraction. This time, I took a different approach – and it was significantly more effective.
Later, I talked to her about how I felt. At another time she’ll be able to see how that could be seen as disrespectful. And it will have a greater impact – remember, she’s really a good kid who wants to do well, and genuinely loves and respects her mother.
We all know people who are hot-headed, impulsive, or have a hard time handling frustration. When we recognize that as THEIR challenge, and refuse to take it personally, it goes a long way to maintaining our relationships. Most of the time, they don’t mean to be hurtful. In fact, they’re not enjoying it, either.
Fifteen minutes after the ‘event,’ my daughter and I sit next to each other in the car. As she reaches over to hug me good-bye (told you she is a good kid!), she cries softly and says she’s sorry. I assure her it’s okay – she handled things better than in the past, and I handled things better, too. In fact, I realize aloud, we did great! And I told her just that.
So here’s What I Know Now:
This add-on lesson is key: in communication and relationships, the goal isn’t perfection, it’s improvement.
This blog also appears as part of my regular column on ShareWiK.com.