Antidotes to Power Struggles

Empathy and Attunement

Power struggles, both external (with my children or husband) and internal (with myself to try to avoid the power struggles) are a daily occurrence for me.

Most of the time, I win. That is to say, I am able to recognize that this is a moment when my instincts tell me to: dig my heels in; get what I want; insist on obedience; demand respect (hilarious, that one); huff, hiss or sigh in exasperation; dismiss; belittle; literally or figuratively throw my hands up and announce I’m done as a manipulative strategy to get the other person to back off so that I can move in to GET WHAT I DESERVE. Don’t I sound delightful?

Speaking of delightful, the first cherry blossom of the year is out on our trees. I’m practically a monk for recording this.

Most of the time I recognize these tendencies in me and I can reflect that, actually, all of those strategies leave many needs unmet for me. To name a few: respect (isn’t that interesting?), honesty, authenticity, care, kindness, consideration, collaboration, being seen, being heard, being understood, mattering.

Now, eight years into this journey, and only on the good days, it takes just a split second and I can pivot to empathy. When I can understand and see this little or big person with their own needs, just like mine, we have a shared problem and we can collaborate and figure it out together.

This morning, at roughly 6.53 am, the first words out of one kiddo’s mouth to me were, “I can’t go to school.” Their face was buried in their covers, their voice was shaky, they were teary.

With this kiddo there is a whole long history of not going to school or going to school. Matt and I are trying to figure out what is a) enough b) too much c) emotionally healthy d) traumatizing. To borrow a metaphor from Dan Siegel and Tina Payne Bryson in their book The Yes Brain, we’ve been trying to figure out where this kiddo needs some pushin’ and where they need some cushion. Or, in NVC terms, getting all needs out on the table and trying to figure out which strategies will leave which needs met and unmet and to what degree.

So, to this sunrise declaration I, of course, wanted to say, yes you can! You agreed to this, remember? This was a strategy you thought was possible. I’m not listening to this complaining again. But you love your teacher! But you love your friends! But you’ll get to play zombies at recess! But you’ll be home before you know it. But, but, but…

Instead, thank goodness, I said: “Oh, of course! Of course! It’s so difficult to spend a day in a place you’re not comfortable.”

Kiddo: “Yeah,”

Long pause.

Me: “Did you want to say more?”

Kiddo: “I was thinking I would wear that top [to school].”

Yes, poof, just like that. But also, on repeat several times during the next hour. Kiddo was not asking me to swoop in and fix this for them. They were asking me to co-hold this particular anxiety with them. I did. Then, they refused a kiss as the bus was rolling in, said, “bye, I love you,” before they disappeared up the steps and behind blacked-out windows. I will see them later when they disembark this yellow behemoth of childhood travel.

We are in constant discussions about what the future of schooling looks like for this child. For now, they know they are seen and understood, and I (mostly) don’t wake up worrying about them.

Also delightful: freeloader ducks.