A bruised toe, not a bruised heart

So what I've learned is, the things that drive me most nuts, are the things that have the most potential to teach me something new.

One Philly Son is curious, kind, sensitive, intelligent, emotional and energetic. He can also have wicked mood swings. Like major you-don't-love-me meltdowns, maybe-I-should-die meltdowns. And they drive me NUTS, for so many reasons.

1) I hate that he's in anguish. Plain and simple, whatever the cause, I don't want him to hurt, not like that.
2) A part of me is furious. I built this life so he'd NEVER have to guess if I loved him or not. It hits a deep nerve to hear him say that we don't love him or that he feels unlovable.
3) A part of me is jealous. I don't know if he feels free or not, but to me, who numbed most feelings for years, in an odd way, I'm jealous that he's so overrun with his emotions and so connected to them that he can't help but let them out. I imagine he may wish he had more control, but control isn't always the answer.

So I've struggled. To convince him we do love him, more than anything to the moon and back. One Philly Son, don't you know you're my everything? I've expressed frustration and anger - One Philly Son, HOW can you ask that? Don't you KNOW how good your life is? Don't you KNOW how much I love you? I've felt defeated, that I failed. I feel my efforts are futile and that I am powerless. One Philly Son, I've tried, I've tried and I don't know what else to do to make you feel safe and strong.

But, of course, you know those reactions have A LOT more to do with me than they do One Philly Son. He's living his life, experiencing HIS experiences, expressing himself. In many ways, it has NOTHING to do with me.

And the feelings of anger, frustration, futility and that I feel are keys to ME, not him. We were concerned about his expressions that seemed to be laced with self-loathing, and consulted a doctor. And his advice, was to teach, by modeling and conversation, the underlying emotion that One Philly Son was feeling. So that he can learn to navigate own his internal storms without turning the raging sea onto himself.

The other day One Philly Son invented a game of trying to toss his bag of popcorn into the basketball net outside. It is a full height net, and he's only 6, so it was challenging. He kept at it for nearly 5 minutes and didn't give up. For him to show perseverance, even in a task like this, is something he couldn't always do. A few short years ago, he'd likely refuse to try, already convinced he "couldn't do it." But, finally - he got the bag of popcorn into net!

And the bag of popcorn got stuck in the net!
And, in an attempt to get the popcorn out, he picked up a rock, and threw it.
And, the rock landed on my toe.
It was a big rock. Involuntarily I yelled "OWWWW!" 

One Philly Son immediately began expressing some real self-loathing. Immediately his face was crest-fallen and he started saying "I'm terrible, you shouldn't love me. I should never get another snack or popcorn again. I can never have screen time again."

And I can empathize with the roller coaster he was on, I've experienced it myself. Inside the space of 5 minutes or less, he went from the excitement of trying something new, to frustration and doubt at his ability to succeed, to dedication and commitment of not giving up, to relief and elation of getting the bag in, to dismay at getting it stuck, to pride at creating a solution, to horror and shame that he hurt his Mom.

Or at least, that's what it looked like to me, in the dim twilight of evening as I saw my son wander and speed through these many emotions.

One Philly Son is someone who has always been very, very hard on himself when he does something "wrong", and hurting his Mom certainly counts as something "wrong."

So rather than express my frustration at his warp-speed emotional journey and my hurt toe, I tried to express those emotions I surmised he was feeling. And he was able to come back from self-loathing rather easily.

Sometimes, these experiences are just exasperating, frustration, annoying, and downright infuriating for me. But, when I'm able to step back, and view the experience as an opportunity for ME to learn, for ME to be taught something by my son's experience, I find that I am pushed to be in touch with MY feelings. To identify where I am, how I feel, so that I can help him identify where HE is and how HE feels.

One Philly Son showed no intent to hurt me. He showed no neglect in considering those around him. There was no "fault" to be assigned. So for me to express anger or frustration in this situation would merely have added proof to his pudding of being bad and wrong, that mistakes are not to be made, that accidental hurts are not to be forgiven. We made sure to discuss not throwing large rocks for any reason, and that it is important to be aware of those around us when we are playing. But we did not blame or shame or even remind him later of the error he'd committed.

So as much as I try to help him, the experience is just as eye-opening for me. As nuts as he makes me with his extreme emotions, maybe he's here to help me get in better touch with my muted emotions. To help me find the words when maybe I'd rather just rush onto that roller coaster of I'll-never-be-good-enough.