Like Your Kids More Than Love Them

In one of my books, "Parent In Style" I share that parents are the potters and children are the clay. We are molding kids everyday with every word we say and with every action we take. How often do we find ourselves yelling or expressing our frustration with our kids—only to realize we might have been too harsh? Consider how the sharp and admonishing words impact their sense of self. In my parenting class, I teach adults how to reframe their words so children can listen without being crushed emotionally. When we talk down to them over and over again because by nature kids make mistakes the criticism lends itself to developing their self-image. If we started talking to them as though we like them we can shift how they view themselves.

We have to decide how we want to support our children's future because we can either build kids or repair adults. Unwittingly, we often teach them to respect elders, do as their told, never to talk back and to know adults are always right. This mentality conditions children to disregard their own impressions of reality and adopt the adults' perception. This would perhaps be okay if all adults were healthy but so often there are those who aren't but young-developing minds don't understand how to discern the unhealthy criticism and are unable to separate what is true and what is not. I once had a 14-year old boy tell me he was a bad kid but when challenged as to why, he could not verbalize one trait that would prove he was bad. He was unable to backup his claim with facts. The only reason he bought into the propaganda was because the adults around him indoctrinated this young man to accept he was worthless, useless and undeserving. I once read children have no power and they know it, but adults have power and don't know it. There is a reason for this self-imposed restriction: everything we believe about ourselves is rooted in childhood and transferrable to adulthood. Therefore, it would behoove us all to choose our words and deeds carefully so children have the ability to keep their esteem intact, like themselves as much as we like them so they can grow into healthy adults.

Our pain refines us it doesn't define us...

Our perceptions determine outcomes, as real events aren’t really real. Instead they are our subjective thoughts and attitudes constructed to make sense of it all. Our memory of these events dictates how we interpret and respond to our environment. The beauty of our minds is that we have a choice on how to view what we see: we can look at our hard times as irritating and bad or we can view them as valuable and necessary. Take the making of a pearl for example. Oysters, like Alchemists, transform ordinary objects into precious things to feast our eyes upon. If not for the pain and discomfort the oysters must endure caused by the irritating sands festering within, this precious jewel would not exist. If we viewed our troubling experiences from this vantage point, we could move forward freely and without reservation, as our pain does not have to define us but rather it can refine us. When we allow ourselves the opportunity to embrace and learn from the lessons presented to us, we can perceive our circumstances differently. The universe whether it be God or another higher power offers opportunities to experience what is necessary to find our authentic purpose. Otherwise, we’re lost with no direction or intent.  April 19^th marks two years since my son’s tragic passing. The insurmountable pain has to mean something—it has a purpose—but what?

Although I haven’t quite grasped the lesson, I tell myself I must trust and have faith.  I have to patiently look for the signs, which give me direction and permission to move forward safely. I have endured tremendous pain over my lifetime but this loss has by far been my greatest. What I know is my past has given me the ability to help others through difficult times and this time probably isn’t any different. Everything happens the way it’s supposed to and although I’m still confused I find comfort in my conviction and trust my experience is meant to serve a greater purpose other than myself. My goal is to celebrate my son’s life rather than mourn his death, as his life is a gift. Every part of who I am is based on loving him and because love doesn’t die, I must find the perseverance to continue honoring who we both are together. 

Originally, I wrote a memoir entitled, “Sparrows in a Hurricane” to celebrate our surviving horrific tragedies. We had a happy ending. The brevity of time together should not be my focus but rather embracing the love that I feel for the opportunity and privilege to raise my son. 

Rest in Peace Bubby