It helps a lot to face one's feelings and to bring them out into the open.
Then you're in a position to do more about them.
If they stay invisible, you are helpless.
It's been said: You can't mend a vase unless you see the pieces. Obviously--if the missing pieces are invisible you don't get very far.
Take young Jed. When Jed was a small child his father had been a traveling salesman, away from home a good part of the time. Jed had missed him. But Jed had also enjoyed having more of his mother in his father's absence. Most of all he'd enjoyed the coziness of sleeping in his father's bed. In his imagination he played he was Father, taking Father's place. And so, when his father got a new job that no longer took him away, Jed was glad in a way, but mad also. In his mind he fantasied that his father was staying home purposely to punish him for having tried to take his place. But like the "good" little boy he was, Jed held the anger in. He shut it tightly down in his unconscious mind, where it remained hidden.
At seventeen, however, a curious thing was happening. Jed had one accident after another when he borrowed his father's car.
His parents worried at first over his accidents and cheered him on to better driving. But when his mishaps continued, they condemned him for carelessness. They reasoned with him. They forbade him the use of the car for extended periods. But nothing worked.
"I don't know why I do it." Jed held his head in his hands. "Such stupidity! I let the car get going so fast I can't handle it. What happened last week was the final straw. I backed out of the driveway. I've backed out of it a millon times before. I know perfectly well that there's a lamppost right square across the street. But it was just as if I never knew the post was there. I went bang into it. And again I wrecked my father's car."
Jed couldn't help himself because he didn't see the feelings that were driving him.
However, after Jed had been helped by an acceptant person to bring his true feelings OUT he could acknowledge his anger toward his father. He could come to see finally that it had been groundless. And still more important, he saw that he had let his hostility come out in the act of wrecking his father's car.
Perhaps you've seen with your teen-ager just what Jed's parents noticed with him. That the techniques you've tried over the years don't work. This is because you have tried them without attending first to your young one's feelings. When you approach a problem without attending to feelings first, then--
The reasoning technique does not work.
The cheering technique does not work.
The forbidding technique does not work.
The condemning technique works least.
They all tell the troubled feelings to disappear.
And this does no good.
Moreover they suggest dishonesty. They encourage a person to dissemble and hide what he feels.
But--after the feelings have been attended to, then it's different. Then focus can be put more profitably on behavior. With feelings out, the young person can pay more attention to how he should act.
Then--
The reasoning technique often does work.
The cheering technique often does work.
The forbidding technique works too where it couldn't before.
The condemning technique even will work in its proper place.
In the past, we have been too prone to focus our attention on the troublesome behavior. We have left the troubled feelings to attend to themselves.
There's a better policy for us to adopt.
Showing posts with label parents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parents. Show all posts
Developing personality traits
By doing things and developing personality traits which denied the presence of hostile feelings, he could make the hiding act more complete.
Pretty Deana did this one way. She was so shy and sweet that she automatically saw herself as the dear little darling who wouldn't hurt a fly. Meanwhile she held in the "bad" feelings so tightly that the good feelings didn't come out either. "What's wrong with Deana?" her vexed and bewildered parents asked. "She doesn't give out warmth. She's solitary. She doesn't make any friends."
Tall Charly did it another way. Despite his broad shoulders and finely knit muscles, he couldn't do well in competitive sports. "I keep fumbling," he complained, "instead of connecting up with the ball. I keep missing tackles. Or I stumble or fall at the crucial moment . . ."
Down underneath, Charly was hiding the ugly load of hostility grown so big that he wanted to fight and injure everyone in his path. By stumbling and fumbling and turning awkward he was denying his too-strong, accumulated and hidden impulse to beat and hurt.
Often people go by opposites. Take yourself. Aren't you aware occasionally of being inwardly annoyed although outwardly you put on your nicest manner so as not to show how you actually feel? Sometimes you do this quite consciously. Sometimes, you do it unconsciously.
"I simply can't say 'No' to Johnny," said Johnny's mother. But when she came to know her underneath feelings, she saw that she was hiding and denying her desire to say "No" to Johnny most of the time.
Sue's adoration of a younger sister had always pleased Sue's parents. " Sue's not a bit jealous, bless her. Those books that claim children resent each other are certainly wrong."
But a day arrived when Sue discovered that her ultralovingness had been the opposite of what she had really felt.
Pretty Deana did this one way. She was so shy and sweet that she automatically saw herself as the dear little darling who wouldn't hurt a fly. Meanwhile she held in the "bad" feelings so tightly that the good feelings didn't come out either. "What's wrong with Deana?" her vexed and bewildered parents asked. "She doesn't give out warmth. She's solitary. She doesn't make any friends."
Tall Charly did it another way. Despite his broad shoulders and finely knit muscles, he couldn't do well in competitive sports. "I keep fumbling," he complained, "instead of connecting up with the ball. I keep missing tackles. Or I stumble or fall at the crucial moment . . ."
Down underneath, Charly was hiding the ugly load of hostility grown so big that he wanted to fight and injure everyone in his path. By stumbling and fumbling and turning awkward he was denying his too-strong, accumulated and hidden impulse to beat and hurt.
Often people go by opposites. Take yourself. Aren't you aware occasionally of being inwardly annoyed although outwardly you put on your nicest manner so as not to show how you actually feel? Sometimes you do this quite consciously. Sometimes, you do it unconsciously.
"I simply can't say 'No' to Johnny," said Johnny's mother. But when she came to know her underneath feelings, she saw that she was hiding and denying her desire to say "No" to Johnny most of the time.
Sue's adoration of a younger sister had always pleased Sue's parents. " Sue's not a bit jealous, bless her. Those books that claim children resent each other are certainly wrong."
But a day arrived when Sue discovered that her ultralovingness had been the opposite of what she had really felt.
A lack of love or trust
Many parents and teachers and others dealing with children have known for quite a long time that the early experiences we've been talking of do bring influence to bear on later behavior.
What they have not known clearly, however, is that it is not alone the actual happenings that count. It's how a child takes what happens and what he makes of it in his mind.
It is true, for instance, that if a child has been loved enough by his parents earlier, he will find it easier now to like himself. Still, it is possible for him to be loved and yet to imagine he isn't.
To cite an extreme case in point, Clarke's mother gave her life for him and yet Clarke grew up feeling she had not loved him. It had happened this way.
One day, when Clarke was three, he was playing on the sidewalk with his ball while his mother sat watching him on the front steps of their home. Suddenly, in a split second, the ball rolled into the street, Clarke dashed after it, and a car swerved around the corner. Quick as a flash, Clarke's mother ran out and shoved her baby roughly out of the way.
The brakes screeched. The car slid. But too late. Clarke's mother was struck, and died the next evening.
What had happened was one thing. What Clarke fantasied about it was another. His mother had pushed him. He imagined this showed anger and bespoke a lack of love. After all, hadn't she told him repeatedly not to run into the street? He fancied she'd been rough because he'd been naughty. And on top of this she had died and left him for good. He must indeed have been very "bad."
Many times, many children take lesser cues and interpet them as fancifully. Many times this starts in the first days of life.
No matter how much we thought we showed love to a baby, the baby himself may have felt that it was not enough. Different babies have different love requirements just as they have different food requirements. What is enough to nourish one baby is not enough to nourish another. Only the baby himself really knows.
When your particular teenager was a baby, he may have felt that he had less love than he craved. He may have wanted more holding and cuddling. But he couldn't tell you about this in words and you may not have known what his cry meant to say. And so this may have set off imaginings in him which grew as he grew.
Take Mary as example. Although fourteen, she kept clamoring for her mother to pick her up at school and drive her home. But when her mother was busy she insisted that Mary must take the bus.
One morning after the usual round of arguings, Mary grew furious. Glaring at her mother, she screamed with the malignant imp of hatred sparking from her eyes, "You! I hate you. You've never really loved me. You've never done anything for me. You've always been a mean old witch."
In telling about the episode later, Mary's mother said, "For an instant I felt very hurt and indignant. But suddenly memories began to flash into my mind. 'Way back in the days when Mary was a baby, her father and I were having an awful struggle financially. I was bothered and absorbed. I know I handled her absent-mindedly on many an occasion. She could well have caught some sort of message going from my muscles to her muscles when I bathed or dressed her, which told her I was abstracted. I'd leave her alone, too, to cry it out when the tears began.
"I remember, as I talk, how angry she got. She had temper tantrums that were dillies until her father and I punished them out of her. But I see she still harbored resentment. Her anger at my not picking her up at school now is worse because it has joined forces with the anger that she had when I didn't pick her up and hold her as much or as tenderly as she needed when she was a baby in order to feel that she was loved.
"What I did with Mary didn't mean that I was a bad parent. I was a worried parent, that's all. Only Mary interpreted it falsely. She imagined what she just threw up to me. She imagined I'd never really loved her. And she hated me for what she imagined much more than for what I actually did."
As a child grows, there are many rules imposed on him which have no rhyme or reason so far as he is concerned. He would rather be messy than clean. He wants to touch and explore and get into everything. However, he has to be trained and his parents have to do the training. Quite naturally, then, he takes them and not other people as the big ogres of denial and demand.
A great many of the child's wishes and thoughts, a great many of his desires and hostilities focus quite naturally then on his parents. They are the ones from whom he wants the most satisfactions. They are the ones to whom he feels most hostile. They are the ones around whom the pattern of his feelings and fantasies begins to take shape.
Whether fact or fancy, if a child felt a lack of love or trust or belonging in the beginning of life with his family, he will find it harder in adolescence to feel at home with his peers. If he felt himself a black sheep or an outcast, he will now feel more isolated and alone and less able to be like the friends with whom he wishes to identify. If he felt an inability to achieve what he was asked to do as a small child, he will feel less firm in tackling tasks that can now give him status. If he felt earlier that he could not gain deserved recognition, he will be more fearful now that belittlement may greet his efforts. If he came to feel that pleasurable sensations were condemnable, he will be less able to approach love and sex and marriage freely and with the smooth-flowing assurance that body and spirit can merge.
We need to realize how small slights can strike a child's sensitivities. His feeling unloved may or may not mean that he has been unloved. His feeling unwanted or incapable may not mean that he was unwanted or incapable. Nonetheless how he himself felt about it originally and how his imagination expanded his feelings--these are of paramount importance.
What they have not known clearly, however, is that it is not alone the actual happenings that count. It's how a child takes what happens and what he makes of it in his mind.
It is true, for instance, that if a child has been loved enough by his parents earlier, he will find it easier now to like himself. Still, it is possible for him to be loved and yet to imagine he isn't.
To cite an extreme case in point, Clarke's mother gave her life for him and yet Clarke grew up feeling she had not loved him. It had happened this way.
One day, when Clarke was three, he was playing on the sidewalk with his ball while his mother sat watching him on the front steps of their home. Suddenly, in a split second, the ball rolled into the street, Clarke dashed after it, and a car swerved around the corner. Quick as a flash, Clarke's mother ran out and shoved her baby roughly out of the way.
The brakes screeched. The car slid. But too late. Clarke's mother was struck, and died the next evening.
What had happened was one thing. What Clarke fantasied about it was another. His mother had pushed him. He imagined this showed anger and bespoke a lack of love. After all, hadn't she told him repeatedly not to run into the street? He fancied she'd been rough because he'd been naughty. And on top of this she had died and left him for good. He must indeed have been very "bad."
Many times, many children take lesser cues and interpet them as fancifully. Many times this starts in the first days of life.
No matter how much we thought we showed love to a baby, the baby himself may have felt that it was not enough. Different babies have different love requirements just as they have different food requirements. What is enough to nourish one baby is not enough to nourish another. Only the baby himself really knows.
When your particular teenager was a baby, he may have felt that he had less love than he craved. He may have wanted more holding and cuddling. But he couldn't tell you about this in words and you may not have known what his cry meant to say. And so this may have set off imaginings in him which grew as he grew.
Take Mary as example. Although fourteen, she kept clamoring for her mother to pick her up at school and drive her home. But when her mother was busy she insisted that Mary must take the bus.
One morning after the usual round of arguings, Mary grew furious. Glaring at her mother, she screamed with the malignant imp of hatred sparking from her eyes, "You! I hate you. You've never really loved me. You've never done anything for me. You've always been a mean old witch."
In telling about the episode later, Mary's mother said, "For an instant I felt very hurt and indignant. But suddenly memories began to flash into my mind. 'Way back in the days when Mary was a baby, her father and I were having an awful struggle financially. I was bothered and absorbed. I know I handled her absent-mindedly on many an occasion. She could well have caught some sort of message going from my muscles to her muscles when I bathed or dressed her, which told her I was abstracted. I'd leave her alone, too, to cry it out when the tears began.
"I remember, as I talk, how angry she got. She had temper tantrums that were dillies until her father and I punished them out of her. But I see she still harbored resentment. Her anger at my not picking her up at school now is worse because it has joined forces with the anger that she had when I didn't pick her up and hold her as much or as tenderly as she needed when she was a baby in order to feel that she was loved.
"What I did with Mary didn't mean that I was a bad parent. I was a worried parent, that's all. Only Mary interpreted it falsely. She imagined what she just threw up to me. She imagined I'd never really loved her. And she hated me for what she imagined much more than for what I actually did."
As a child grows, there are many rules imposed on him which have no rhyme or reason so far as he is concerned. He would rather be messy than clean. He wants to touch and explore and get into everything. However, he has to be trained and his parents have to do the training. Quite naturally, then, he takes them and not other people as the big ogres of denial and demand.
A great many of the child's wishes and thoughts, a great many of his desires and hostilities focus quite naturally then on his parents. They are the ones from whom he wants the most satisfactions. They are the ones to whom he feels most hostile. They are the ones around whom the pattern of his feelings and fantasies begins to take shape.
Whether fact or fancy, if a child felt a lack of love or trust or belonging in the beginning of life with his family, he will find it harder in adolescence to feel at home with his peers. If he felt himself a black sheep or an outcast, he will now feel more isolated and alone and less able to be like the friends with whom he wishes to identify. If he felt an inability to achieve what he was asked to do as a small child, he will feel less firm in tackling tasks that can now give him status. If he felt earlier that he could not gain deserved recognition, he will be more fearful now that belittlement may greet his efforts. If he came to feel that pleasurable sensations were condemnable, he will be less able to approach love and sex and marriage freely and with the smooth-flowing assurance that body and spirit can merge.
We need to realize how small slights can strike a child's sensitivities. His feeling unloved may or may not mean that he has been unloved. His feeling unwanted or incapable may not mean that he was unwanted or incapable. Nonetheless how he himself felt about it originally and how his imagination expanded his feelings--these are of paramount importance.
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