Making Connection on Holiday
My close friend, Jenn, was coming on Holiday with her two boys, Mason - 8, and Isaac - 6, to see us in our new home. I was so excited to connect with her in person and just to hang out together again.
Remembering some of Mason and Rylan's relational growing pains a little anxiety crept into my awareness. My window of tolerance is really stretched when I perceive disharmony between our sons. It can be painful and confusing to stay connected when the unexpected happens, especially when plans you are really looking forward to become interrupted. Some things I really long for in this kind of situation are ease, predictability, peace and harmony, shared reality, and fun.
Thinking about how I might engage with the boys differently if something unexpected happened, I recognized a post-hearsal opportunity for myself. (Conscious reflective autobiographical awareness, as well as conscious awareness in the here and now, enables us to shape our experience of ourselves in the world.) Sitting in a self-reflective state, I remembered a previous experience with these kids that I perceived as intense. Simultaneously, I was consciously noticing my internal state (interoception), while remaining open to any images that arose in my mind. I remembered hearing Rylan cry out in a loud voice, "He won't listen to me!" and saw him falling to the floor while Mason and Isaac ran to hide behind their Mom. As I remembered, my stomach clenched just like it did the first time this happened, and my body curled inward in resistance and fear. Slowing down my process, I noticed that a part of my mind felt blinded by a piercing light, and I heard a ringing tone in my ears. Witnessing myself beginning to freeze, in a state of confusion and panic, I heard my own thoughts, "I have to do something right away so everything will be safe, but I can't think!"
Sitting with this experience, I gently acknowledged to myself how much I want to stay present and open to life, especially in the midst of unexpected intensity. Holding this new insight, I once again sank into my bodily sensations, imagining myself meeting Rylan in this reflection with curiosity, warmth, and acceptance. My stomach relaxed, my heart opened and felt warm, and when I smiled my shoulders released tension I hadn't even known I was holding. Wow, this felt fresh and strong, like some solid ground under my feet. I drew in a deep breath to anchor this sense of strength within me, then let my breath back out slowly.
Deliberately shifting my attention I again imagined Rylan's expression of distress with his friends. I felt a shift in my belly, a new sense of possibility awakening about how to communicate with the children with an open heart. I leaned slightly forward, towards my image of them, now with a present and accepting state of awareness, and imagined reflecting back to Rylan with curiosity, "He won't listen to you?" I saw the possibility of our eyes meeting as new neural pathways for collaborative, contingent communication opened up and co-creating a new connection became possible.
Collaborative, contingent communication allows us to expand our sense of self. As we feel connected to our children, we can become more receptive to them. A contingent response is when the quality, intensity, and timing of the signals we send clearly reflect the other's signals. My response to Rylan is not just a mirror of his signals but incorporates the essence of my presence (silent empathy - nonverbal communication, occasionally words) which makes sense of his communication. In this way, children begin to feel felt (needs to be seen, heard, and understood.) Through this co-creative process, children begin to construct both social knowledge and an understanding of the self that cannot be created outside of relationship. They begin to experience that they are not alone in the world, because their sense of self is connected to something larger than the boundaries of their own skin. Over time, this repeated pattern enables children to develop a coherent autobiographical self that connects the past, present, and anticipated future.
During our Holiday the boys enjoyed playing outside together. One day Mason came inside by himself with downcast eyes and sat slumped on the couch. Jenn moved to sit close beside him. "What's up?" she asked. "Rylan invited me to sit on the dryer with him and Isaac. I said no, and then Rylan told me I wasn't part of the club." Mason replied. Jenn offered him a reflection, "When Rylan invited you to sit on the dryer with him and Isaac, you said no, and Rylan said you aren't part of the club?"
"Yeah..." Mason sighed loudly, "Yeah..." Jenn reflected softly, and they just sat together in reflective silence for several moments. Suddenly Mason lifted his face up exclaiming, "Inclusion! I need inclusion!"
"Inclusion! You want to feel included? A part of the group?" Jenn reflected matching his expression while holding his needs with care. Her eyes met mine seeking support to hold all of our boys' experiences with understanding.
Stepping outside I saw Rylan and Isaac running out at the garden. Calling Rylan over, I inquired, "I see you are having fun playing with Isaac, and I'm wondering why Mason isn't with you guys too. Do you have any idea what's up?"
"Well, yeah," he replied, "he wants to play the PlayStation and I don't want anyone to play in my room if I'm not there, and he wants to play with Isaac and, well, you know how hard that is for me."
"Oh," I nodded in acknowledgement as I put my arm around his shoulder, "he wants to play the PlayStation in your room and you want to be there if anyone plays, and it's really hard for you to watch others play without you, wanting to feel included in the fun?" I reflected, including an empathy guess.
"Yep." Rylan agreed and began moving away back to play. Reaching out to touch his arm I said, "Hey Rylan, I want to connect with you some more. Thanks for telling me what's up, and I want to check-in with you whether you know where Mason is right now. Do you know?"
Pausing for a moment, Rylan guessed, "Is he inside?" Nodding, I shared, "Yeah, he is. He's feeling rather sad and lonely. I heard him tell his Mom he wants to feel included, you know, to be part of things."
Hearing this, Rylan's eyes got big, his eyebrows shot up, and he turned, walking up the steps to the porch. "Rylan," I called out, "Wait, I want to connect with you." Turning, Rylan smiles, winks, and gives me a thumbs-up right before he walks through the door.
Puzzled, I walk in the house and see Rylan sitting on the couch in conversation with Mason. A moment later they both get up and begin walking to his room with Isaac following. Again, Rylan winks at me and signals a thumbs-up, saying, "Having a little PS2 time will do the trick!"
As Jenn and I unpacked our shared experience, witnessing our sons' on-going interactions and finding their way in relationship with one another, one of the pieces that caught our attention is when a child doesn't feel understood, little things can become big issues. When inevitable disconnections and misunderstandings occur in relationships, we can repair those ruptures so our children learn that a healing reconnection is possible.
