Four Questions
This morning I was cleaning off my work desk and wondering what I wanted to write about when a half sheet of paper with questions on it suddenly appeared beneath a stack of paid bills. It brought tears to my eyes. It filled me with gratitude. The piece of paper literally took me back four years ago to a time when I felt desperate and lost. I wish I could credit the author but all I have is a copy and pasted Word document that hung from my cabinet for over a year.
My oldest child was growing to be more and more emotionally taxing to me and I found myself challenged on a daily basis not to react to him and his newfound sassy mouth and apathetic attitude. I knew he was going through a lot with the divorce and upcoming move to Texas. I tried to be sympathetic but at the end of six long days and nights alone with three boys, what was left was usually just a “Please go to your room and leave me alone!” I grew more and more resentful until one day I realized that I didn’t like him anymore. I literally could not stand to be around him. And as if he knew this, he would come over and touch me and I felt like my skin was crawling. Imagine the mom guilt I felt. Who doesn’t like their own child?
Over Thanksgiving that year in Florida my mom asked me if she could take me to lunch. I left my kids with my sister and we went for sushi. She gently said, “Kate, I’m afraid if you don’t stop being so hard on Miles he’s going to develop anxiety or depression.” And the shame storm began. She knew. She could see what I was feeling. And I said to her, “You don’t understand what it is like to live with him! He’s impossible and insatiable. He needs every bit of my energy and when I’m drained I just don’t have it to give.” She put her hand on my arm and said, “I do understand. You need to get to the bottom of what is bothering you because this has nothing to do with him.” I knew she was right. But I was in Florida for ten days alone without any help and the frustration continued.
About a week later and back home in Louisiana, I looked over at dinner and I noticed Miles’ hands. Here was this very large kid, almost man like even though he was only 10, and I saw dimples. I remembered his hands as a little boy and realized that while they were substantially bigger; they still looked the same. The grief climbed up the back of my neck and overtook me. I jumped up from the table and ran to my room. I laid on my bed and sobbed. I sobbed because I realized I had grown so disconnected from my own son that I had forgotten how much I loved him. And then it hit me. This was never about my kid. This was about how much he reminded me of his father. How much of my energy and emotion I had transferred on him in the absence of his dad. While they were very similar even in their looks, he was not his father. He was a little boy who had needs and I had pretty much abandoned him because I couldn’t see past my own stuff. I heard a voice deep inside me say, “you need to fall back in love with this boy.” And so it became my job to do so.
The very next day, and because I know the universe always hears our deepest desires, I opened up Facebook and saw a post from the author I mentioned earlier. He said, “whether it’s your kids, your colleagues, your partner, or really anyone in your community, when someone feels genuinely appreciated by you, it’s because you treat them in such a way that affirmatively answers each of these questions pretty consistently.”
1. Do you see me?
2. Do you care that I am here?
3. Am I enough for you, or do you need me to be better in some way?
4. Can I tell that I’m special to you by the way you look at me?
These questions became my cornerstone for parenting. Not just my oldest, but all my kids. It became my cornerstone for friendships. These questions have everything to do with real, authentic connection. This connection has literally changed the relationship I have with my kids. My oldest took awhile before he trusted me. He gave me hell for a few months, but nothing was going to deter me from falling and staying in love with him. Once he knew I was for real, he trusted and fell back. He started to open up to me. He began inviting me to our “nighttime talks,” where boys seem to always reveal what is in their hearts.
We still fight. He still acts like a tween and makes me bash my head against a wall. But our foundation is tight. I corrected the damage that was done. Every now and again I still grab his hands and look. The dimples are still there. My guilt is not. I have forgiven myself for what I didn’t know then. I commit daily to do better. I mess up. Yet I’m fairly certain my children and the people who are in my inner circle know that I see them; know that I care they are here, know they are enough for me, and know they are special to me by the way I look at them. And today, that is enough for me.
Love,
