As the new year began, instead of setting traditional resolutions, I resolved to improve upon my past self. One significant focus for me has been becoming a more nurturing mother. I find myself grappling with feelings of shame regarding the way I communicate with my children. Despite my efforts to instill values like hard work, social etiquette, and even practical skills, I often resort to frustration more frequently than I’d like to admit.
Daily routines often feel like an uphill battle, where I repeatedly ask my children to complete simple tasks:
- Did you brush your teeth?
- Is your bed made?
- Please hang up your backpack.
- Can you put your dirty dishes away?
You might relate to this struggle. I can imagine my kids are just as weary of hearing these requests as I am of repeating them. In my mind, I rationalize my outbursts by thinking, “I’ve asked nicely several times, so they deserve my frustration.” But I find myself trapped in a cycle of nagging while expecting different outcomes.
Why can’t you just do it without me asking countless times? What part of “no” don’t you understand? If I have to tell you to do this one more time, I’m going to lose my cool!
What I’ve realized is that this approach is not true parenting; it’s shaming. Deep inside, I aspire to be a mother who shares laughter, empathy, and compassion with my children, forging strong bonds that can withstand any challenges. Yet I worry that my behavior might be driving a wedge between us.
How can I cultivate a loving relationship with my children while shaming them? Parenting should not be about coercing children into compliance; it should be rooted in love, regardless of their actions or inactions.
As I navigate my insecurities, I’ve come to recognize a pattern—we often repeat the behaviors we experienced in our own upbringing. An insightful article in Psychology Today describes this as a “legacy of distorted love.” Similarly, Brené Brown’s book, Daring Greatly, addresses the impact of shame. One particular quote stands out: “Often, not being good at vulnerability means we’re damn good at shame.”
Interestingly, I find it much easier to be vulnerable in my writing than in my parenting. I feel the pressure to be the one who has all the answers, the one who guides my children on their life paths. I worry that if I show my uncertainties, it will undermine my authority.
My true error has not been my imperfections as a mother, but rather my failure to share my own vulnerabilities. When my children stumble, I mistakenly view it as a personal failure, and instead of fostering a learning moment, I create a “shame storm” (a term coined by Brené Brown) to distract from my feelings of inadequacy. This reaction only exacerbates the situation, overshadowing any potential lessons with the debris of shattered self-esteem.
Why isn’t there a manual for this? After each incident, I’m left with a heavy burden of guilt:
- Have I irreparably harmed them?
- Will they look back at their childhood with confusion?
- Do they feel inadequate because of my reactions?
- Will they grow to resent me?
- Will they need therapy to cope with what I’ve done?
Gradually, I’m learning that my past does not define my present or my future. Brené’s advice resonates with me: “Own the story. Don’t bury it and let it fester or define you… If you own this story, you get to write the ending.”
So, I am committed to writing a new narrative:
- Because I love my children, I will empower them to be strong and independent by living courageously and aligning with my values.
- Because I love my children, I will encourage them to dream big and listen to their instincts by embodying what fills my heart and soul.
- Because I love my children, I will teach them the importance of nurturing relationships by showing vulnerability and being a true friend.
- Because I love my children, I will exemplify hard work and humility by working alongside them in daily tasks and embracing failure as a teacher.
- Because I love my children, I will cultivate an attitude of gratitude and abundance, steering clear of fear and scarcity.
- Because I love my children, I will help them embrace their imperfections by sharing my own journey.
- Because I love my children, I will strive to be a better mom, honoring who they are and parenting with love rather than shame.
I eagerly anticipate the calm that follows the storm.
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Summary
This piece reflects on the author’s journey to improve her parenting approach, recognizing the harmful cycle of shaming and nagging. By choosing to embrace vulnerability and compassion, she aims to foster a loving and supportive environment for her children, ultimately transforming her parenting narrative.
Keyphrase: parenting with compassion
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