It was late morning on a Tuesday. On this particular day, I adorned my tired body with an old concert t-shirt and a grey pair of shorts with a hole in back, just large enough to see the color of my underwear. My hair tossed in a bun on top of my head matched beautifully with the chipped paint on my toenails.
I couldn’t open the microwave to reheat my coffee because the counter was too cluttered with dirty dishes. I tried to move the dishes to another part of the counter, but it was covered with pots and pans from the night before. The rest of the space was occupied with unopened mail, car keys, puzzle pieces from under the couch, and craft materials. Instead of moving the dishes, I did the unthinkable – I stacked them. I stacked them and shoved them just far enough away from the microwave door to be able to open it. I squeezed my coffee in, shut the door, and pressed the quick cook button. When the microwave beeped, I opened the door and slid the coffee cup out. Just as I went to lift it over the mountain of dirty dishes, I bumped them. I watched in slow motion as everything began to topple onto the floor. My body froze as cold soup dripped down from the counter onto my feet. I walked over to the kitchen table and succumbed to my misery, cradling my face with both hands, as a sea of emotions poured from my eyes.
Nothing was aligned on this day, and everything was out of place. Disappointments and setbacks occurred within hours of each other. Nobody that I needed to speak to would answer the phone, but all of my oldest friends were texting me. I forgot to eat breakfast but managed to sneak in a mid-morning peanut butter cup from Easter. My clothes wouldn’t fit right and my brain couldn’t think right. Every time I tried to upload my latest flyer to Instagram, it shut down without warning. Every time I fluffed the laundry to get the wrinkles out, I forgot it in there again.
Minor inconveniences in my life feel much bigger when the deepest parts of me are hurting. Financial struggles, strained relationships, and suppressed memories all play a part in the boiling over of my emotional state. When everything gets piled up- much like the pile of dirty dishes, I know it’s not long before it all comes crashing down.
This chaos- followed by a period of self loathing- left me feeling, insignificant, worthless, and burnt out.
“Mom? Are you ok?”
I lifted my face from my hands to see my nine year old son, Eli, standing in front of me. He was holding his tablet, waiting to show me something. I suddenly realized that I am not the only person on the planet, and responded to his question.
“Yeah, I’m ok. What’s up?”
He looked at me with curious eyes, “Do you need space? What do you need?”
What do I need? Me? I thought.
I muttered out a reply. “I’m not sure what I need. Show me what you have there.”
We watched the video together- it was about raising an ant colony, that’s a story for another day.
My mood shifted when Eli walked away. I found myself replaying his question over and over again. What do you need? What do you need?
I definitely needed real food, so I started with that. I ate a banana, staying far away from the disaster surrounding the microwave until I sorted myself out emotionally.
I needed time.
I needed money.
I needed cooperation from others.
I needed reliable internet service.
I needed a sense of direction.
I needed reassurance.
I needed love.
I probably needed a shower.
And yet, without any of that, I felt somewhat better.
I think what I really needed was for another human to acknowledge that I was in need, and that’s what Eli gave to me.
I walked into his room and sat on the end of his bed.
“Eli, I really appreciate you asking me what I need and offering me space. It means a lot that you were putting me first in that moment.”
He smirked at me and leaned into my hug with his shoulder. He’s not much of a hugger.
Learning is not linear. It comes in waves and progresses and pauses when necessary. There are nuances and subtleties within a person’s learning experiences that can’t be recognized from the outside. These lessons can’t be tested, graded or measured. They are grown from seed deep within the body, and can only be seen in glimpses when fully bloomed.
In this situation, Eli showed compassion for me. He was aware of his surroundings and of my body language and understood that I was in a low emotional state without me saying anything. He used self control to take in what was happening, processed it, and then responded accordingly instead of reacting. He used his voice to ask me a potent question. What do you need? He used patience to wait for my answer, and to see if I was available to watch the video. He returned to his room afterwards, knowing that I needed space. He openly received a compliment when I let him know how much his kindness meant to me- he even gave me a half-hug.
How many of us struggle with reacting vs. responding, fixing another person’s problems, processing a loved one’s emotional state without getting over involved or upset, patience, understanding, and self-awareness?
These are skills that are learned over time through practice, coaching, and modeling, and are not normally at the forefront of a child’s educational journey. Imagine what our world might look like if we not only focused on the foundation of being a good person, but recognized it and treated it with the same respect as properly structuring a paragraph or figuring out the value of X.
Imagine what our children would feel like if the adults in their lives treated them the way that Eli treated me? We can never really know what a person is going through on the inside- a broken crayon may seem trivial to us, but if that’s the thing that sends a six-year-old over the edge after a difficult day, it has significance.
The teenager, who shrugs off the question, “how was your day?” and then refuses to join the family for dinner, needs space and compassion more than they need judgment and shame.
Showing up for our kids and leading with love is the most important thing that we can do to support them as they grow- I learned that from my son.