Fighting Victim Mode
I spent 30+ minutes today trying to fix a little measuring tape that belongs to Sweet Boy. Baby Girl broke it this morning. I was pretty sure I could fix it, so today after school I grabbed a screwdriver and started taking the thing apart.
Baby Girl was in the garage, asleep in the car, at the time. Sweet Boy was very curious about the whole process and watched closely, giving suggestions and asking questions every once in a while. I figured out what was wrong and did my best to put it all back together. There were some issues that I had to keep resolving over and over. I was determined though.
Baby Girl woke up partway through the process so I went and tried to get her out. She was mad and wouldn't have it. I told her to come in when she was ready.
Finally, I thought I'd figured it out, so I put it all back together and proudly showed Sweet Boy that it worked. For about two seconds. Then it did the goofy thing again, and when I tried to pull it out further, the whole tape came sailing out again.
As I watched the little yellow end of the tape flash out of its home, I felt a little shot of adrenaline mixed with anger. "Grrrr!!" I thought. I let out a half-exasperated, half-crazy chuckle and buried my face in my hands. "Damn it."
Sweet Boy sat there staring at the broken measuring tape, his bottom lip out, his eyes scrunched up, about to cry. Baby Girl was wailing in the garage, finally making her way into the house. I was battling irritation, disappointment, discouragement, and brief but familiar thoughts like "I'm an idiot" and "Why does this have to happen to me?" Victim mode. I recognized it, but it was pretty overwhelming.
Baby Girl walked in and shuffled over to me, whining that she had peed her pants. In her car seat. Because she was mad.
I think I growled something like, "Are you kidding me??" I snapped at her to go pee in the potty and she whimpered that she didn't have to pee anymore.
"Fine," I said. "Whatever." I was feeling like I'd had it, so I plopped onto my stomach and grabbed my phone. I was too overwhelmed to emotionally deal with my kids anymore. I opened Facebook and proceeded to try to disappear into that world.
Baby Girl lay down right in front of me, getting as close to me as she could without touching me, and just watched. Sweet Boy lay down on my back and snuggled into me. I basically ignored them.
I stared at my phone for a few minutes, listening to Baby Girl sniffle and Sweet Boy hum to himself up on my back. I finally put my phone down and acknowledged to myself that my babies were looking to me for emotional support. Baby Girl needed to know that I wasn't angry with her forever. She needed reassurance that she was still loved, even though she'd made a mistake. Sweet Boy needed attention and affection. He needed to know that I love him and that I'm a safe place for his heart.
I've been a bit distant and self-absorbed today. My kids can tell when I pull away from them and into myself. I know that I'm doing it because I'm feeling vulnerable, fearful, overwhelmed - often by things that have nothing to do with them. All they see is that the person who is supposed to take care of them is pulling away. They probably wonder if it's their fault, if it'll be forever, if they'll fall apart without my attention and affection. It's anxiety-provoking for them. So they act up because negative attention is better than trying to interact with someone who seems apathetic toward them.
I'm finally seeing this because I've been able to give them more consistent love and attention in increasing stretches of time over the past few months. I see them and their needs, their feelings, their strengths and weaknesses more clearly. I see myself and my behaviors more clearly. Instead of feeling like my inner child and my biological children are in competition, I am finding healthy ways to love and care for both.
I'm still not great at either of those things. I can care for all of us physically, but I'm still trying to figure out the emotional stuff. I never really learned how to care for myself emotionally, and now I'm responsible for emotionally caring for three of us. That means recognizing my emotions, how I instinctively want to act on them, how that affects other people, how my actions affect myself. It means seeing my patterns and understanding where they came from. It means taking responsibility for myself instead of believing that I'm helpless in the face of those who ask things of me.
It means compassionately fighting my tendency to see myself as a victim.
Baby Girl was in the garage, asleep in the car, at the time. Sweet Boy was very curious about the whole process and watched closely, giving suggestions and asking questions every once in a while. I figured out what was wrong and did my best to put it all back together. There were some issues that I had to keep resolving over and over. I was determined though.
Baby Girl woke up partway through the process so I went and tried to get her out. She was mad and wouldn't have it. I told her to come in when she was ready.
Finally, I thought I'd figured it out, so I put it all back together and proudly showed Sweet Boy that it worked. For about two seconds. Then it did the goofy thing again, and when I tried to pull it out further, the whole tape came sailing out again.
As I watched the little yellow end of the tape flash out of its home, I felt a little shot of adrenaline mixed with anger. "Grrrr!!" I thought. I let out a half-exasperated, half-crazy chuckle and buried my face in my hands. "Damn it."
Sweet Boy sat there staring at the broken measuring tape, his bottom lip out, his eyes scrunched up, about to cry. Baby Girl was wailing in the garage, finally making her way into the house. I was battling irritation, disappointment, discouragement, and brief but familiar thoughts like "I'm an idiot" and "Why does this have to happen to me?" Victim mode. I recognized it, but it was pretty overwhelming.
Baby Girl walked in and shuffled over to me, whining that she had peed her pants. In her car seat. Because she was mad.
I think I growled something like, "Are you kidding me??" I snapped at her to go pee in the potty and she whimpered that she didn't have to pee anymore.
"Fine," I said. "Whatever." I was feeling like I'd had it, so I plopped onto my stomach and grabbed my phone. I was too overwhelmed to emotionally deal with my kids anymore. I opened Facebook and proceeded to try to disappear into that world.
Baby Girl lay down right in front of me, getting as close to me as she could without touching me, and just watched. Sweet Boy lay down on my back and snuggled into me. I basically ignored them.
I stared at my phone for a few minutes, listening to Baby Girl sniffle and Sweet Boy hum to himself up on my back. I finally put my phone down and acknowledged to myself that my babies were looking to me for emotional support. Baby Girl needed to know that I wasn't angry with her forever. She needed reassurance that she was still loved, even though she'd made a mistake. Sweet Boy needed attention and affection. He needed to know that I love him and that I'm a safe place for his heart.
I've been a bit distant and self-absorbed today. My kids can tell when I pull away from them and into myself. I know that I'm doing it because I'm feeling vulnerable, fearful, overwhelmed - often by things that have nothing to do with them. All they see is that the person who is supposed to take care of them is pulling away. They probably wonder if it's their fault, if it'll be forever, if they'll fall apart without my attention and affection. It's anxiety-provoking for them. So they act up because negative attention is better than trying to interact with someone who seems apathetic toward them.
I'm finally seeing this because I've been able to give them more consistent love and attention in increasing stretches of time over the past few months. I see them and their needs, their feelings, their strengths and weaknesses more clearly. I see myself and my behaviors more clearly. Instead of feeling like my inner child and my biological children are in competition, I am finding healthy ways to love and care for both.
I'm still not great at either of those things. I can care for all of us physically, but I'm still trying to figure out the emotional stuff. I never really learned how to care for myself emotionally, and now I'm responsible for emotionally caring for three of us. That means recognizing my emotions, how I instinctively want to act on them, how that affects other people, how my actions affect myself. It means seeing my patterns and understanding where they came from. It means taking responsibility for myself instead of believing that I'm helpless in the face of those who ask things of me.
It means compassionately fighting my tendency to see myself as a victim.
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