LETTING GO OF OUR ADULT CHILDREN
PART TWO: LETTING GO LEADS TO PEACE
Chapter 5: Shifting Your Focus
Page 12
BY ARLENE HARDER, MA, MFT
Chapter 5 of Letting Go of Our Adult Children, in which you can learn how to begin turning your attention from your child to yourself.
By now you may be aware that old habits have kept your family conflict running on automatic pilot. You may realize that clinging to the hope that your child will eventually see things your way has kept you in the limbo of disappointed parents — unable either to let go with love or find peace for yourself.
Fortunately, three catalysts for change lie within easy reach: emotional pain created by the situation, the recognition that you alone are responsible for emotional reactions to choices your child makes, and the opportunity for personal change that naturally arises when children leave home.
Ten years ago the combination of these pressures forced me to stop my futile efforts to change my son and to start exploring ways I could change. Today, although my journey was long and sometimes rough, I wouldn't trade my struggles with anyone. My entire life (not just the part that involves my family) is much more peaceful than when I first decided to do something about the pain caused by my constant tugging on the rope (and Matthew's pulling on the rope in response).
In learning to accept both the positive and negative ways in which I influenced my son, I developed a more objective, realistic perspective on life as a whole. In retrospect, I believe the situation with my son was a blessing in disguise. Even if things had turned out well for all my children, I needed to be a more balanced person, to avoid getting hooked by others and to let go of the need to control.
Pain: A Powerful Catalyst for Change
Family rifts are painful and hard to dismiss.
Unless we hide photographs of our child, every time we see pictures of her we can't help but reflect on how things have turned out. If family members are absent during holidays and birthdays, their absence pointedly reminds us of what could be but is not. If our child does come and arguments ensue, the day is ruined; we are thrown back into the pain of unpleasant family dynamics once again.
Events do not even have to involve our child for us to be reminded of the rift in the family. When we notice others in our child's situation, we are automatically reminded of our child's life, just as I think of my son whenever I see street people, even though he does not currently live on the streets. Conversely, we are made aware of unmet expectations when we see others doing what we think our child "should" be doing. Thus a gifted daughter's unwillingness to complete her education is brought painfully to mind when a friend casually mentions her child, a highly successful lawyer. The friend doesn't need to make a comparison. We make our own comparisons all too readily.
We may pretend in front of others that everything's okay. Within the privacy of our hearts we know the truth. Just as physical pain causes us to seek medical attention, emotional pain is an indication that something is wrong and needs to be fixed. But we can't fix our adult child. We can only fix ourselves.
Yet it is clear that many disappointed parents do not use their heartache as an agent for personal growth and change. Why are they reluctant or unwilling to look at the issues that keep them engaged in a futile game of who is right and wrong? The answer often lies in the dynamics of how pain arises and what we have been taught is the meaning of pain, as illustrated in the following stories.
Faye's only son, Mike, now twenty-six, was twelve when he decided to live with her ex-husband. Soon after moving in with his dad, Mike began to make excuses for not spending weekends with his mother when it was her turn to see him. Because Faye didn't want to be "a pushy mother," she accepted his increasing distance from her life without much protest. Now he sees her about once a year, although he lives in the same town. When asked how she feels about being excluded from Mike's life, Faye replies, "He's grown now. Why should he need me? Besides, I'm used to not having him around." She dismisses as coincidence the fact that migraine headaches always follow the few contacts she has with him.
Her case is typical of many in which emotional distress develops gradually. When Faye didn't insist on seeing Mike more often during his teen years, she became acclimated to a level of emotional pain she would not have tolerated if Mike had suddenly stopped visiting. Like the frog in the experiment who sits in a pan of water that heats very slowly until it boils to death, she allowed her pain to tighten its grip, bit by bit, unaware of how much she hurt — and by then she was too paralyzed to respond.
The case of Janet is almost the opposite of Faye's because Janet is very much aware of her pain. In fact, you could say that she wraps it around her like a blanket of martyrdom. Her attitude is a legacy from childhood when her mother accepted, uncomplainingly, frequent humiliation and even some physical abuse at the hands of her alcoholic father. Janet concluded that women must suffer to keep their families together. Furthermore, she has interpreted her church's message of sacrifice to mean she must ignore her own needs in the service of others. And so, although attempts at intervention have failed to stop her daughter's drug problems, she allows her daughter to continue living at home despite the emotional distress it creates for her and others in the family.
Gloria's church, on the other hand, preaches transcendence over emotional distress, claiming she can always be happy if she is willing to rise above her problems. Gloria believes that she, herself, set in motion everything that has happened to her, both good and bad, and she is afraid of "creating" trouble by speaking unfavorably of her son, who is divorcing his third wife. Consequently, she has become very good at pretending everything is okay. Whenever she talks about her son, she smiles sweetly and claims, in a tone that lacks conviction, that she doesn't "allow" herself to feel upset by his inability to maintain relationships.
These women share the illusion that they can find peace of mind by embracing martyrdom, by attempting false serenity through transcendence, or by rising above emotional pain even when the consequence is physical pain. These defenses may work for awhile; seldom are they effective in the long term. They are, however, prime examples of society's addiction to perfection, success, and omnipotence. We are so afraid of addressing our "failures" that we lose the opportunity they offer us for wisdom and an expanded capacity to embrace all of life.
Carol Pearson addresses the issue of personal growth that can arise from suffering in her excellent book of self exploration. The Hero Within:
Pain and loss are personally transformative not as a constant mode of life, but as part of an ongoing process whereby we give up what no longer serves us or those we love and move into the unknown. Each time we become aware that we are suffering, it is a signal that we are ready to move on and make changes in our lives. Our task, then, is to explore the suffering, to be aware of it, to claim fully that we indeed are hurting. But we can do that only if we have at least a glimmer of hope that our suffering is not necessary, that it can be alleviated, that it is not simply the human condition — or not simply our lot as a man or a woman. In this way, suffering is a gift. It captures our attention and signals that it is time for us to move, to learn new behaviors, to try new challenges.
When you are finally tired of trying to get your child to change, tired of family conflict, tired of getting hooked by every decision your child makes that you think is "stupid," you may finally yell "OUCH! Enough is enough!" Your suffering can then become a positive agent for change, even though you will be the one who changes, not your child.
Willingness to acknowledge your pain and suffering is an essential first step on the road to healing. But old habits die hard. Even after you begin your journey to letting go with love, you may sometimes find yourself again focusing upon your child rather than yourself. When that happens, just remember the pain that has brought you to this point. Say "OUCH!" and get back on track.
No One Can Force Us to be Happy or Sad
The second potential catalyst of change for disappointed parents is the acceptance of a simple fact of life. Our child does not cause us to feel hurt, angry, guilty or happy — even when those emotions appear to be tied directly to our child's actions, values, and statements.
Yes, when our child says or does something we consider harmful, immoral or irresponsible, we may well feel angry or experience other negative emotions. However, before we experience those emotions, we first process our child's actions and opinions through a filter. That filter consists of (1) the meanings we assign to various beliefs and actions and (2) memories of past events that were similar in some way to that of our child's current situation and that caused us problems we expect will also happen to our child.
Consequently, while it may appear that it is our child's supposedly "stupid decision" that has made us angry, we are only angry because in our view of the world that decision seems "stupid" and "wrong." We want our child to make another decision, one we consider "intelligent" and "right." It doesn't matter if three million people agree with us concerning what is harmful, immoral, or irresponsible — or if no one does. It is our beliefs that judge our child's opinions and trigger our feelings.
Imagine that your daughter Sally and her husband Jeff have informed you that they will not be coming to your house for Thanksgiving. Their decision is neither good nor bad, in and of itself. However, what you feel and how you act in reaction to their decision is not neutral. If they are going to Jeff's parents, you may be hurt if you believe Sally "should" spend Thanksgiving with you since she spent last Thanksgiving with Jeff's family. lf Jeff's mother is confined to a wheelchair, you may be pleased that Sally thoughtfully offered to help in the kitchen, especially if you believe children "honor their parents" (and parents-in-law) by coming to their aid in times of need. However, if Sally and Jeff are going to the home of a friend, you may feel particularly slighted if you believe that holidays are meant for "family" and that Sally knows how you feel. How you respond emotionally to Sally's decision to spend Thanksgiving away from your house depends upon you, not her.
Many past conversations with my son perfectly illustrated how our beliefs and the emotional baggage of the past affect the present. When Matthew wanted something I was unwilling to give him, I would often get upset while trying hard not to be. My old self-criticism tape was almost never disconnected. Listening to what it said, I would hear his statement as a criticism of me. In a way, of course, he was critical of the fact that I wouldn't give him something he wanted. But I heard his response as a criticism of me as a person, or as a judgment of me as a mother. Since I already had low self-esteem and tried so hard to be a good mother, it was the playing of the tape inside my head, not his words, that kept me hooked and in turmoil.
In addition to my critical tape, memories of my childhood and young adulthood would come back to haunt me when I observed Matthew (or another of my adult children) doing something I thought particularly unwise. It would remind me of all the unwise things I had done in the past, things that could still cause me embarrassment whenever I thought of them. I wanted to protect my children from experiencing that kind of pain.
When Matthew expressed an opinion that was particularly outrageous, I would feel my stomach tighten. If asked at the moment why I felt upset, I would probably reply that it was because I didn't want him to be considered foolish. But now I realize that I reacted as I did because I could see that his opinions were based on limited knowledge (yet how many opinions of young adults match the depth of experience of those who are older?). Again, I was reminded of myself. Too often in the past, unfortunately, I have said something authoritatively only to discover later that I was dead wrong. Being "wrong" was a big thing in my life, and I wanted my children to avoid that horrible fate.
Today, of course, I realize that getting upset whenever they made a decision I thought unwise was an acknowledgment that I didn't trust them to learn from the consequences of their choices. Besides, sometimes I didn't have all the facts, and their choices turned out to be exactly right after all.
There is no doubt that people can affect our mood. With certain friends we may feel upbeat and positive. Others who exude gloom and despair almost always drag us down. There is a relationship between our feelings and the moods and actions of others. However, when we insist that our child (or anyone else) causes us to be upset, we give tremendous power to our child (or others) to control our life. In the end, such a transfer of responsibility for our psychological health prevents us from discovering ways we can eliminate or decrease emotional turmoil when our child (or others) act in certain ways.
The first step in taking back control of our emotions is to say, "I allow my child to upset me." The second step is to say, "When my child does such-and-such, I let my attitude about that behavior pull me down." The third step is, "I want to understand what there is in my own experience that causes me to react to my child as I do."
Before we leave the issue of who is in control of our emotions, it is important to repeat the fact that we didn't deliberately set out to screw up our children's lives and make them miserable. So, too, our children are not trying to make life difficult for themselves. It is not likely that they are trying to make us miserable, either. However, if our child seems to enjoy seeing our distressed and negative reactions when he does or says something outlandish, that makes it all the more essential for us to disconnect our knee-jerk response to his provocation.
It is a moot point that we think our children should make other choices. They have been given the legal power to live their own lives, whether or not we like the results. And since we are the ones who get tied in knots when our child won't come to visit, drinks too much, spends money unwisely, or dates men we consider irresponsible, it is up to us to deal with our distress. Our child won't change simply because we're in pain. Relief will be achieved not through choices over which our child has control but through the discovery of changes we can make in our own attitudes and behaviors — without discarding our basic values and beliefs.
Next Page
© Copyright 1994, Arlene Harder, MA, MFT, Reprinted with permission
Table of Contents 
Previous Page Next Page
