Although I know bedtime routines are important, I rarely give them the time they deserve. Last night I was putting my 11 year old son, Beau, to bed. We were talking in his room and I asked my 8 year old daughter, Amelie, to go brush her teeth. As she was leaving I asked her to turn the light off. She pretended not to hear me and walked away.
Beau and I continued to talk, then Amelie returned to Beau’s room after brushing her teeth. “Amelie, it’s getting late. Go hop in bed and I’ll be right there,” I said. “This is my special time with Beau.” Irritated, she turned to leave. “Will you please turn off the light?” I asked a second time. Without a word she walked right past the light refusing to acknowledge me or turn off the light. “You are being so rude, Amelie,” I called after her. Still no response.
After putting Beau to bed I walked into Amelie’s room. She was sitting up in bed, scowling at me as I entered the room. I smiled and laughed out loud, hoping it was just an icy act that I could break through with laughter.
“What’s wrong?” I asked jovially.
“You said that I’m rude and that was a really mean thing to say,” she replied.
“Well you were being rude. I asked you two different times to please turn the light off in Beau’s room and you ignored me each time.” I felt my temper rising and resisted the urge to meet her at her worst. I took a deep breath and asked with restored calm, “Amelie, do you know how rude it is to blatantly ignore someone who is talking to you?” She shrugged rigidly; disinterested, refusing me entry into her heart. (I know she does this because I’ve modeled it many times for her to learn.)
“To ignore the existence of another human being is one of the cruelest things you can do to someone. I don’t think you understand how powerful you are. Do you know how powerful you are?” I asked with excitement. She looked up at me curiously. “When you are kind and caring and loving you actually create more kindness and care and love in the world. But when you ignore someone it can create pain and sadness and hurt in the world because that is what it feels like inside the person who is being ignored.”
“Have you ever been ignored?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I guess,” she begrudgingly responded, barely opening her mouth to speak.
“Well try to put yourself in someone else’s shoes. Do I ever ignore you? How would you feel if I did it to you? Or imagine Beau was the one ignoring you.”
“He does ignore me,” she murmured.
“Well how does it feel?”
“Not very good,” she answered in a softened voice.
In that moment, tears began streaming down Amelie’s face. “Honey, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. That was not my intention,” I said.
“I just feel so bad. I didn’t realize it, but I was being really rude to you, Mom,” she sobbed.
“Baby, I love you and I forgive you. I’m not mad. Do you know I love you so much and there is nothing you could ever do that would ever change that?” She shook her head “no” followed by a flood of tears. “I love you more and more every day. Even when we argue and you are mad at me or when I get upset with you, I still love you.” She began crying even harder. “Tell me what’s wrong,” I asked, trying to pry her open.
“I just keep thinking of what I did like a flip book over and over and it makes me so sad,” she wailed.
I pulled her in close and tried to get her to relax and settle into her body. I knew better than to leave her alone with her mind at a time like this. Despite being offered comfort and reassurance in my arms, it was clear her mind wasn’t letting me in.
The mind is a tricky thing. Used correctly it can be a helpful ally, or as I have found in my own life, an abusive tormentor. In childhood (and well into adulthood) I berated myself for every little thing I convicted myself of doing wrong. I never gave myself the benefit of the doubt, I didn’t believe in myself and I certainly didn’t feel love for myself. It was my secret and I kept it well.
“Amelie, don’t you want to give yourself a break from all of this pain?” I asked with loving concern.
“What do you mean?” she asked, looking up at me with flushed red cheeks.
“Take a deep breath. I want you to just watch yourself for a minute, ok? I want you to observe what is happening. You can watch everything within and around you as the beautiful spirit that you are. You are the loving presence within Amelie’s body. Do you see Amelie crying right now? Do you see how much she is suffering?
It is not easy being human but you can comfort her and love her SO MUCH and tell her that everything is going to be ok. Be compassionate with her and tell her, ‘We are in this together. We are going to do great things in this world and I’m always here for you.’ You can be your own best friend and know that you are a complete person because you are always loved by the light within. You are the light within. That’s who you really are.”
Just then our dog, Opal, began scratching and crying at the door. Drying her tears Amelie said, “I think I need to snuggle with Opal.” She opened the door and her black and white springer spaniel ran in to greet her with unconditional love.
“Do you remember the Zen Pig book?” I asked. “We all make mistakes so forgive yourself fast…”
“Don’t expect to be perfect or happiness won’t last!” Amelie said in a sing song voice along with me.
“I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
As I kissed my little girl and closed her bedroom door behind me I felt overwhelmed with emotion myself. I thought of all the times I hurried bedtime because I was tired or it was getting late. Or the times I told my kids to just “get over it” or “we’ll talk about it later” when they were hurting inside, but later never came. There is no later. There is only this moment and what I make time for now.
I continued to think of the moments that turned into years when I didn’t “show up” even though I chose to be a parent. I thought of all the times my kids have asked, “Mom, will you teach me how to….” and it dawned on me that I am always teaching even when I don’t show up. Whether I’m conscious of it or not, I am always modeling behavior for my children.
I am not a perfect parent but last night I felt victorious. In a strange way I felt like I broke a cycle of abuse. My daughter was beating herself up for one small, harmless action and I responded to her pain with love. I befriended the one who attempted to hurt me to better understand her suffering. I listened to her. I encouraged her to get out of her head and into her heart. I told her I forgave her and asked her to forgive herself. Then we made a promise to be always be kind and honor ourselves because it is never, ever ok to be mean to yourself.
Please, speak kind words to your children and heal your hurts as to not pass them on. Apologize when necessary and teach them forgiveness. Show them how to love themselves so that loving others will come naturally. This is an ongoing conversation in our home. Care to join the converstation.
