Am I mean and nasty?
A client asked me: “Are you mean and nasty to your children?”
I seem pretty caring and interested in sessions. But is it for real? Maybe when the full moon appears I’m something like a Jekyll & Hyde. My client wants to know.
Truth be told, children can drive parents right to the edge…and beyond. I know. I’ve been there.
It’s so hard because sometimes, kids can be…
Eleven and a half, standing on the corner at night. Just standing. In the rain.
“Why isn’t he crossing?” I said aloud, watching from my living room window. “Why’s he just standing there?”
My son’s development is delayed because of a sensory system that takes in all the world around him in uneven, exaggerated tints, tones, and textures. The world comes in too fast and too much. And you can’t tell the whole world to slow down. Even though he tries.
So little control.
My son is in a special-ed school. He’s kinda different. Thinks in ways all his own. Crossing the street is new for him.
“Is he stupid?” I really said that. Aloud. For everyone in my home to hear.
I said it when I saw the car coming.
I saw the car coming, and I saw my son preparing to cross. Oh, Gd, help us. I opened my window to shout.
Then I heard the whistle blow. My son’s whistle. The one attached to his umbrella. He blew that whistle for all its worth.
And the car stopped.
My son crossed the street, blowing all the way.
He’d waited all this time — standing on the corner in the rain — for THIS golden opportunity: To exert some control over a world where he has so little.
I am not mean and nasty to my children, I told my client. Except for when I fail to make efforts to understand them.
When there is understanding, there is compassion.
Even when we don’t know what the motive is, knowing that there is one, can go a long way…