The Balm of Seeing Our Children, Part 2
And How Nonviolent Communication Can Help
This is Part 2, here is Part 1.
A few years ago I came up with a practice of imagining myself slipping into my kids’ bodies, Patrick Swayze from Ghost-style. From there I could look back at myself, and see how I am received by my children. At different times this practice has led me to: shut my computer; relax my face; sit down; smile; walk my daughter back to her bedroom, tuck her in and give her a kiss, again; look my kids in the eye; stop walking and turn around; keep walking; put down my phone; or say “No, I am sorry, I’m not willing to,” and then welcome the feelings.
When I began I didn’t know that Patrick Swayze body swapping was a key part of seeing our children. I was just aware of the tingly, melty sensation that sometimes accompanied it for me. Connection. Togetherness. Interdependence.
Before I go on, I want to say two things about seeing our children:
It’s hard. Really, really hard for me. I am constantly working on it, refining and then often missing it completely.
It takes time and work. Because it take time to rewire our neurons. Fortunately, there is lots and lots of support in working through this.
In this post I will look at part two of the quote from Dan Siegel and Tina Payne Bryson, about the three components that comprise seeing our children:
Coming to understand their inner life by using our imagination to make sense of what is actually going on inside their mind;
Here’s a recent (and shared with humility) example of how I use this and what it might look like. I tried to pick one that wasn’t textbook.
I set lunch down in front of my kids, ages 6 and 4. They were perched on stools at the counter, and I was on the opposite side. I focused on my phone (ack!) for a moment, and when they came back into my consciousness they were eating and saying,
“Yes, he is,”
“No, he isn’t,”
“Yes, he is!”
“No, he isn’t!”
I casually asked, “Who is what?” but they didn’t hear me. They were focused on each other. Projectile markers began to punctuate the screamed “IS” and “ISN’T”. The children seemed composed, in spite of airborne sharpies and precision screaming. I asked again. No response.
I took a deep breath and removed the box of pens to prevent a nib-eye collision. Then with cucumber-coolness, walked around the counter to stand between them. I was trying really hard to slip inside both of their bodies and imagine what it was they needed. It seemed that they needed a calm presence. So I stood there. Silent. I shifted even more directly between them so that the new punctuation of flailing hands aimed vaguely in the other’s direction didn’t connect in a hit. My body blocked. After half a minute they focused on eating. Another minute later they were giggling and chatting as they crunched chips, the argument forgotten. I returned to the other side of the counter.
What did I see when I imagined myself as them? That they were hungry. That the argument didn’t hold the need to be seen or understood - the content didn’t actually matter. That they wanted peace and calm and the ability to get that. But that they needed to be safe until some connections were made again inside their brains and bodies. I saw their need for a source of calm that wasn’t within themselves at that moment. I imagined that any lecture about throwing pens or screaming at each other would stimulate deeper dysregulation, create disconnection and a sense of not being seen. As would removal of food until they could jolly well be nice to each other.
So I was silent. They moved on and I did too.
How does Nonviolent Communication (NVC) help me with this?
NVC asks us to be conscious of the needs that are driving behaviour - yours, mine, those others. In NVC, a need is something that every human has, which if met, would move them towards a life of thriving, not just surviving. One example of a need is acceptance. Another is belonging. Another is power in my world. A guiding question could be, what are the needs that I have; that my children also have; that the Dalai Lama has; that your neighbor who voted for the other guy has; that the humans who mutilate dogs or steal babies have, or …that aaalllll of us have? If you need to just breathe for a second after reading that, honor it. This is hard.
Finding the needs is an avenue that brings the humanity of another person into awareness, even when they do things that seem, to us, totally inhuman. NVC asks us to get down to those needs. It’s the place where we all meet and the possibilities are endless.
So we can be conscious of the needs our children have - what needs might be met or unmet in any given moment. Then, when we take their perspective, we can bring a deeper understanding to what we are imagining, and stronger connection. Our language and interpretations shift from, say, this kid is being a brat to I can see they are needing connection and support in this moment.
And when our understanding and connection result from us being able to really see them, they get to experience acceptance and the freedom to be who they are. They get to grow into themselves.
We are also setting ourselves up for the third component that Siegel and Payne Bryson identified in seeing our children - a contingent and timely response. But because this post ended up being so much longer than I imagined it would be, I’ll save that for another post.
The question of whether he is or isn't was never brought up again.
If you would like to practice or gain more insight into seeing your children, you can sign up for my next Caregiver Community Circle, where I will guide you through some NVC-based practices for seeing our children.
Questions? Comments?
READING
A list of possible human needs can be found here.
Rosenberg, Marshall B., Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Life, 3rd Ed, Puddledancer Press, 2015
Siegel, Daniel J., and Payne Bryson, Tina, The Power of Showing Up: How Parental Presence Shapes Who Our Kids Become and How Their Brains Get Wired, Random House, 2020
Siegel, Daniel J., The Developing Mind: How Relationships and The Brain Interact to Shape Who We Are, Guilford Press, 2020
thank you for your posts!