But to build the EBA—especially one in which the balance is already fractured—work on the connection. If you feel your child is a stranger to you, they feel the same. Rediscover your connection. It was there once, not that long ago. And from our parental perspective, we tend to disconnect from a place of fear—fear that if we do not bear down and control our child, he or she will wind up in peril.
But the logic here is faulty. It is precisely that connection itself, that positive balance in the EBA, that effectively inoculates our child from such peril. With so many elements of her life drawing down her sense of self-worth, your Unconditional Positive Regard will prove to be the godsend that will provide a crucial layer of protection from the dangers you fear for her. So, it is urgent that you see past your fear in order to recognize where the value in your relationship lies.
She does not need your lecture. She already knows how you feel. Just ask her. She does not need your judgment. She is highly self-aware, and likely over-judging herself. She does not need your ire or unkindness. Her world is harsh enough as it is. Rather, she needs your light. She needs to know that, despite anything she feels about herself, anything she may do incorrectly, and any poor choices she makes, you are there for her, 100 percent, unconditionally. Your relationship with her can be her port in the storm of adolescence. In my opinion, that’s the best parenting story you can possibly write.
An Emotional Bank Account Inventory
Both Daniel Goleman, the author of Emotional Intelligence, and Dr. John Gottman, a prominent expert on relationships, have discussed the ratio of positive to negative interactions necessary to maintain a good working relationship. Though they reflect primarily on intimate relationships, I find that their work applies equally well to the parent-child relationship.
And the ratio required to maintain and sustain a positive balance in the EBA is five to one, five positive interactions for every negative interaction. This finding shows us the powerful impact a single negative interaction can have on a relationship, and how much positive interaction is required to balance it out.
Consider for a moment your relationship with your child. For a day or two, keep track of the interactions you share, and create an honest accounting of net positive and net negative interactions. If you find (as most parents I have coached through this exercise have) that you are nowhere near that ratio, create more positive interactions with your child. Talk about interests, common or otherwise. Focus on something other than the homework she is supposed to be doing, or the dishwasher that needs emptying, or the attitude she’s been showing lately. Because this research is powerful and holds true. If you lack abundant positive interaction with your child, your influence in her life will be greatly diminished, increasing your frustration with parenting and driving a deeper wedge between you both emotionally.
This is among the most important exercises you can engage in as a parent.
Okay, this might sound harsh, but it’s important. To your child, your fear and judgment may look like disdain. She cannot bear the burden of your disdain.
Expectations, yes.
Disdain?
Well, that just may break her.
I bring the potential for parental disdain up for a reason. I see it, frequently. In therapy sessions, it is painfully clear and obvious when a parent is so baffled and upset by a child’s shifting behavior and affect that they express disdain. I find that, upon a moment’s inspection, that disdain is virtually always a reflection of fear and frustration on the part of the parent. Fear that we may be doing it all wrong, that we may not have any agency over our precious child. Frustration that they will not remain with the program, fall in line, and be better.
But this is a delicate issue, because what feels like fear and frustration to us falls like disdain on the senses of far too many of our children. And I can tell you, with an insider’s perspective, that most children carry a rather persistent thought that they may not be good enough on their own. Piling a sense that you hold disdain for them on top of that is often more than a child can bear. This produces many of the symptoms of anxiety, depression, and other emotional suffering I see in practice.
So please be very aware of showing disdain for your child. Now more than ever, it is critical to parse the difference between character and behavior. That is, your child may, and likely will, exhibit behavior of which you disapprove, and you can speak your mind on that.
But it is far more important that your child hears from you, and sees in the way you present to her, that she is fundamentally good, and good enough, regardless of what she may be doing in the moment.
So, at the very least, your children need your empathy. They need to know that you are available to them, free of fear and judgment and ego. They need to know that you see them and that you feel them. And in order to feel them, to truly experience empathy for your children, it is incumbent upon you to show that you understand them, that you are willing to step into their worlds.
This precept is one of those ideals that seem simple, but believe me, it can be very, very difficult. Because your child may very well be experiencing the very darkest of feelings and emotions, even if she offers a palatable and pleasant face to the rest of the world. I bear witness to this jarring paradox many times a week. Clinically, this mismatch between expressed and felt emotion can be a dangerous, even lethal emotional brew. For now, it is far more difficult to tell, on the face of things, whether your child is “okay” than it used to be. I have preached in the past that simply asking suffices and lets your child know you are available and in their corner.
But at eight, nine, ten, or eleven years old or older, we cannot expect our children to possess the insight to know whether they are “okay,” or even what “okay” looks and feels like. For the emotional dissonance they are experiencing may be the only state of being they have ever consciously known, and the “okay” label carries no more meaning than any other would.
So, we need to find empathy, with some degree of urgency. To do so, we need to be willing to hear the worst from our kids. And, in my experience, the darkest thoughts imaginable often haunt their young minds. For instance, in the past few years, I have heard the following from children as young as eight or nine:
“I hate the way I look.”
“I hate who I am.”
“I am a toxic person.”
“Everyone would be far better off without me.”
By far the most common negative sentiment I hear, on a very regular basis, goes something like this:
“I am not going to kill myself, but if I do not wake up tomorrow morning, that’s fine by me. In fact, that would be ideal.”
I had rarely heard this passive suicidality until about five years ago, but now it feels ubiquitous among young people. When I press them on it, I find that this is not a wish to die, but for internal suffering to end. It is critical to note that the management of their own internal anxieties and shifting emotions has become a primary task for children and is inextricably tied to identity development. This is a new challenge for our kids, one we need to be available to take on with them.
For children today hold themselves