One element of the PACE approach is so tough, it’s even got its own prayer.
You know the one:
Emotive stuff - and clearly strikes a chord world-wide as it’s emblazoned on many a wall, engraved on a thousand keepsakes and is even the mantra adopted by Alcoholics Anonymous.
Why does it necessitate a request for holy intervention?
Unacceptable!
It seems we humans simply aren’t very good at accepting that some things are beyond our control.
‘Accepting things’ is even seen as defeatist.
Now, I’m not suggesting you ‘accept’ shoddy behaviour: that chap who queue-jumped at Costa de-serves your quiet derision, miffed humph and secret hope that his soya latte is mixed up with San-dra’s full-fat flat-white.
Nor am I suggesting we accept things we could change: we should all be invested in improving our world, by whatever means we can.
BUT…accepting that things we don’t like do happen and we cannot control them - and being able to move on, is a vital part of good mental health.
It’s fundamental, even.
Accepting - except…
It’s very likely that the person you’re least accepting of is the delightful creature in the mirror. Yes, you, you gorgeous thing.
We’re very good at beating ourselves up about our past mistakes - of tending to our shoots of shame until they bear the ugliest internal fruits.
This masochism is a great way to illustrate the importance of acceptance: both as a mechanism for happiness and of the consequences of not doing so.
Now, how’s the NY res. going?
Ah, I see.
Me too.
Next year?
See you then.
I did have a little pity-party about my lack of self control (binge-eating all the chocolate and gorging on the Netflix series ‘Cheer’ was a low point last month), but I also accepted that perhaps some of this behaviour was down to unrealistic targets, and more still down to feelings, damn feelings. I for-gave myself and moved on. And I doubt many of us will still be beating ourselves up about our 2020 resolution flops come June.
But this level of acceptance isn’t what I’m talking about.
It’s the scene from your past that plays on repeat at 4am. The hardened boil of shame that sits quiet and deep, oozing deep-rooted embarrassment and unending self-flagellation.
What’s past is prologue…
We all have something, let’s not be coy.
Perhaps your misdemeanour was public, or perhaps only perceived as such by you…maybe you were even ‘punished’ in some way: but I can bet that the most punitive sanction is the one you im-pose on yourself - the tortures your own mind puts you through. Maybe not daily, but without fail and when you’re feeling at your weakest.
For the purposes of illustrating the importance of acceptance, do me a quick favour: call up your ker-nel of guilt, your secret shame.
Imagine it as a festering sore - feel its toxicity in your veins, see it eroding your confidence…note that even this very act of remembering provokes it, corroding a little more of your positive self-image.
Now…imagine being able to prevent your child feeling just this feeling.
That’s a powerful gift. And one we can - indeed must - bestow.
How? You’ve got it. Through granting them the acceptance we find so hard to give ourselves.
Accept the unexpected
Just as with our own misdemeanours, acceptance is not about condoning harmful or tricky behaviours, but about seeking to understand the feelings underneath the act and moving on, together and with forgiveness.
It’s about accepting that feelings are sometimes extreme and that it’s OK to, well, feel them: we just need to have strategies about how to express them in the best, or at least a better, way.
Take That!
It’s never going to be OK for my toddler to whack his brother with a spatula (really, don’t ask), so I took him away whilst dad dispensed some cuddles to the victim.
A punishment based on ‘spatula-whack’ might stop the violence in the short-term, but wouldn’t necessarily prevent future assaults.
An emotional investigation is needed: what drove him to weaponise this kitchen utensil…?
Yep, feelings.
A truck-load of them.
They rolled right in and overwhelmed him - that he didn’t know what to do with them and, bless him, he couldn’t even name ‘em.
All he said what that he felt, ‘yucky’.
And that’s exactly what jealousy does. Poison your affection.
Helping my biggest understand - and put a name to - the feeling behind the act is the first step to checking his hitting arm in the future. Will he go on the offensive again? Most likely. Will he be able to express the feeling to us in future? Yes. Then hopefully we can intervene.
Talking the talk
How might my actions help avoid creating deep-rooted shame, in this instance?
Am I walking away, disgusted with him and his feelings?
Am I abandoning him to his shame, or am I talking it through when things calm?
I hope my parenting will show him that it’s his behaviour, but not him, that is unacceptable. That he is loved unconditionally.
…Because that boil of shame you cannot lance is due to the fact that on some level you think you’re bad.
I will do anything to stop my kids feeling that way.
All the feels
What’s tough about acceptance is that it so often dovetails with some pretty big feelings on the par-ents’ part too: anger, frustration, sadness or even our own shame.
Being able to remain calm, putting our feelings, temporarily, to one side as we steer the child through their ‘tempest tantrum’, is one of the hardest tasks in parenting, in my view.
Claire, Parenting Through Stories’ marketing guru, chats us through her recent experiences navi-gating the stormy seas of high feeling.
As with many nearly ‘three-nangers’, accepting big feelings has felt like a daily occurrence in our house. Staying calm, present, labelling the feelings and taking deep breaths (all of us!) has been a re-occurring cycle that has made me wonder if our approach is really helping our little one.
Just when we were feeling a bit jaded, our toddler started to act out an amazing bit of mothering role-play that reassured us we are doing something right!
She has a baby doll known as ‘Baby’ (imaginative, I know) and to whom is a doting ‘mother’. She changes, dresses, feeds and, more recently, comforts Baby when she’s having a tough time.
I’ll be honest, these tough times normally arise because the otherwise doting mother has dropped Baby on her head. Some impressive crying sound effects ensue, but the dialogue that follows melts my heart.
“It’s ok to be sad Baby. I hear you. You’re sad because you bumped your head and it really hurt didn’t it? I’m here.”
This emotional support she showed Baby reflects the same she experiences. That how we parent her in the throes and aftermath of an epic meltdown, has resonated enough for her to model it back.
She is her baby’s safe space - just as I hope I am hers.
The rewards are clear: happiness, calmness and a more secure attachment relationship.
Goals!
For more on repairing relationships (although hopefully you didn’t drop baby on its head!), see last week’s blog.
Let it go! Let it go!
As for us, it’s maybe a little late to prevent the sore inside.
But, if we’d only accept ourselves - warts and all - we could forgive our pasts, our behaviours and move forward, so much lighter.
So, let’s all be a bit more Elsa and cut ourselves some well-deserved slack.
That’s a belated resolution I can get on board with.
Now, pass the chocolate, would you?
For more on Parenting Through Stories and the psychology behind the gorgeous lift-the-flap book we’re Crowdfunding to have published, check out our previous blogs and follow our project…
Next week, meet the illustrator behind Bartley’s Books, Rachel Millson-Hill.
x Becks