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Want your child to care? Start cultivating your empathy

Want your child to care? Start cultivating your empathy (by Miki Dedijer)

A mentor of mine once told me we don’t learn how to be more loving or empathetic. We’re naturally loving from birth.

The difference is small but significant.

We don’t have to strive to feel more or improve ourselves. This perspective is a cultural illness. It affects us when we internalize the industrial ideals of never-ending growth and linear progress.

Instead, we can become more skilled at revealing what’s been there all along.

Growing up, I shut down parts of my heart. There was the pain of broken relationships; the needs that went unmet as a child; stored grief for people and places that I lost connection with; the fear of being hurt or taken advantage of.

Most of us have areas of our hearts we haven’t visited for a long time. We change schools. We move homes. Our parents divorce. A loved one dies. Machines raze our favorite hideout in the woods. Few of us belong to a village that bears witness to the pains of these losses. Few of us have a community that helps us regain the trust we need to feel safe and welcome again.

And so in the absense of a empathic adults or a community to hold us, we abandon these challenged parts of ourselves. We don’t want to go there again. We don’t want to relive the pain or hurt. And so we close these inner catacombs and walk away.

Our work as adult men is to open those chambers again, to remove whatever blocks us from loving the way we were born to do.

[bctt tweet=”Our work as adult men is to remove whatever blocks us from loving the way we were born to do. ” via=”no”]

Learn to cultivate empathy.

That’s far easier said than done, I know. Much of my adult life has been about rediscovering these catacombs and opening them one by one. That’s not always easy. But the older I get, the more I consider it an adventure to rediscover my natural capacity for empathy.

And cultivating empathy is a vital role as a father.

We have so many other roles, of course. But being empathic with our children–and helping them grow their own capacity for empathy–has a huge impact on their development .

When we’re empathic our children can relax. There’s no reason for them to stress or be on high alert. They don’t have to defend themselves, run, hide, or fight. They feel they belong, that they have a home no matter what arises in them. In this environment, they develop the way nature intends them to.

That’s why cultivating our children’s empathy is a fundamental responsability as dads. We’re empathy farmers, to use a phrase by psychologist Robin Grille.

Our task is to create the best conditions we can to grow our children’s ability to relate to people, nature and all sentient beings.

Every now and then we might lose our cool, yell, throw a menacing look or otherwise frighten our child with our power and authority. We soon sense the muteness of disconnection. And most of us regret it afterwards, and wish we’d done it in a different way.

[bctt tweet=”Cultivating empathy is a vital role as a father. ” via=”no”]

When our wounds get in the way.

The hard truth is that sometimes we don’t want our children’s feelings to touch us. We’re too exhausted, on edge, incapacitated or triggered for some reason.

In those moments, empathy hurts us too much. We’d much rather turn away than stay with.

Our child’s behavior sometimes touches on our original hurts, the ones we’ve locked away. Every time our child takes us there, she reminds us of our unresolved pain.

It’s not that we’re insensitive, crude, monstrous or incapable of responding with soft attention and compassionate curiosity. We are all biologically capable of responding with love towards our child or our partner. But sometimes our automatic defensive reactions blocks our hearts.

It’s not that we are mean. We’re wounded.

So instead of facing our child, we evade her. We keep her a good distance from our pressure points. We block out our capacity for empathy and isolate ourselves from our child. And instead of healing ourselves, we pass on our hurts.

Notice how you block your empathy.

When we block our empathic responses, we in effect censor our children’s emotions. To avoid engaging with our child’s feelings, we manipulate, dominate, control, belittle, opress or otherwise block the behavior. And we create a distance in the family.

”Empathy blockers save us the trouble of listening, but they cost us our connection with each other,” says Robin Grille. They frustrate our child, and with time create detachment, distance and mistrust.

These are some examples of empathy blockers from his wonderful book Heart-to-Heart Parenting.

  • Downplaying – Oh, don’t cry. I’m sure it’s not that bad! It’s not the end of the world.
  • Denial – There is nothing wrong; nothing for you to be upset about. Everything is OK.
  • Reasoning – Don’t cry. Can’t you see that the other child didn’t mean to hurt you
  • The positive spin – Look on the bright side. Can’t you see, this probably happened for a good reason?
  • Cheering up – Don’t worry. Here, let me tell you something funny I heard the other day. Here, have an ice cream. That’ll cheer you up.
  • Advising/giving options – Why don’t you try doing this, or that? I think you should just ignore that so-and-so.
  • The expectation – You should have known better. Get over it. Don’t let it get to you.
  • Put down – Don’t be silly. Don’t be ridiculous.
  • Diagnosing/labelling – You are being over-sensitive.
  • Distracting/diverting – Hey, have a look at the pretty puppet.
  • Stealing the thunder – Now you know how I felt when the same thing happened to me.

Listen with your heart.

If you recognize any of these behaviors, chances are you’re human.

And that means you can learn to remove the blocks by owning your reaction and healing your hurts.

This might mean getting some rest, reaching out to a friend a therapist or a coach for support, or finding some space to decompress.

The practice is continuously to develop your ability to listen with genuine interest in your child’s emotional world.

When you do, your child learns that all her feelings are valid. Anger, fear, sadness, shame or joy are all welcome.

“Listening,” says Grille, “is at the heart of connection, and if we can’t listen well, we cease to be an influence in our children’s lives.”

(See here for Miki’s free ebook for depleted dads: ‘7 Steps to a Lot More Energy As a Dad.’)

[irp posts=”1846″ name=”The Single Most Important Skill to Teach Your Child (by Miki Dedijer)”]


About the Author: Miki Dedijer

Miki DedijerMiki Dedijer supports conscious fathers in managing their emotional health and rooting their children in community. Miki hosts The Lodge for Natural Dads, an online gathering of committed dads of young children. You can now reserve your place as a lodge member. Sign up for news about Miki’s workshops, and receive his blogs and updates through his website, naturaldads.com, or join a growing community of dads on Facebook. Miki also offers ‘7 Steps to a Lot More Energy As a Dad.’ a free ebook for depleted dads.

5 Comments

Wendolyn

applies to our election cycle too… many people who feel secure following the election are using these empathy blockers which prevent conversation, healing, or greater understanding from both “sides.” I think many of the protests are cries for others to really listen, really see the emotional realities that the protesters are facing.

Reply
Miki

Hey Wendolyn–I love that you connect empathic parenting and emotion blockers with the recent election in the United States.

Our children are watching, sensing, feeling how us adults are in the world, and how we respond to the world. The energy of the election has rippled through many families (even beyond the United States).

How we respond to the other, how we view and approach our differences, teaches our children a lot about empathy, and our willingness to listen, even if it is painful.

I imagine there are a lot of correlations between how we practice empathy at home, and how it shows up in politics and shapes society.

Robin Grille is really clear that reforms in child-rearing directly affects democratic processes, peace and social stability. He calls this parenting for a peaceful world.

Thank you again for making the connection!

Miki

Reply
Miki

Hey Howard–Glad you liked it. Yes, I agree with you, it is easy to get distracted. That is I believe why First Nations Peoples don’t see themselves as raising children, but reminding children of their original nature again and again, their generosity, their gifts and their love. When we live in a culture that allows us to forget that, we are denatured. Warmest, Miki

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Boundaries and belonging exist together, but how this works is something that takes loads of experience.

Children can’t learn respectful, kind, strong boundaries without someone who has modelled this over and over. It doesn’t have to be perfect every time, just enough times.

The presence kids and teens need from us is one that is warm AND strong. Love and leadership. They need both in the one person.

Strength without warmth will be experienced as controlling or bullying. Disagreement will come to mean rejection. To avoid rejection, they might be more likely to people please, say yes when they mean no, or denying their truth.

Warmth without strength will be experienced as ‘flaky’ or unreliable. If they don’t feel an adult leading, they will be more likely to take the leadership role from the adult. Someone has to fly the plane.

The third option is both - keep the boundary, add the warmth.

Make space for their disagreement, their ‘no’, and, hold the boundary with warmth. 

‘Warmth’ doesn’t mean dropping the boundary. It means being kind, and not withdrawing our affection because of their response. It means rejecting the behaviour, not them 

‘It’s okay to be angry at me. I won’t listen while you speak like that. Im right here. You’re not in trouble.’

‘I get why you hate this decision. It’s ok to be annoyed with me. I’m not changing my mind.’

‘It’s my job to keep you safe. I know it’s a tough decision and I’m not changing my mind. It’s okay to be angry at me.’

‘I care about you too much to let you do something unsafe. That’s my decision. I expect you’ll have a bit to say about it and that’s okay.’

If the give you information that does change your mind, it’s always ok to do that but make it clear it’s still a decision you’ve made in strength, not because you’ve been worn down: ‘What you said about … makes sense to me. I’d decided to change my mind.‘ OR, ‘Let’s talk about this calmly when you’re ready. What you’ve said about … makes sense to me. I’d like to talk about how we can make this happen in a way that works for both of us.’

This doesn’t have to be perfect - we’ll also reach the end of ourselves sometimes - it just has to be enough.♥️
Their calm and courage starts with ours.

This doesn’t mean we have to feel calm or brave. The truth is that when a young person is anxious, angry, or overwhelmed, we probably won’t feel calm or brave.

Where you can, tap into that part of you that knows they are safe enough and that they are capable of being brave enough. Then breathe. 

Breathing calms our nervous system so theirs can settle alongside. 

This is co-regulation. It lets them borrow our calm when theirs is feeling out of reach for a while. Breathe and be with.

This is how calm is caught.

Now for the brave: Rather than avoiding the brave, important, growthful things they need to do, as long as they are safe, comfort them through it.

This takes courage. Of course you’ll want to protect them from anything that feels tough or uncomfortable, but as long as they are safe, we don’t need to.

This is how we give them the experience they need to trust their capacity to do hard things, even when they are anxious.

This is how we build their brave - gently, lovingly, one tiny brave step after another. 

Courage isn’t about being fearless - but about trusting they can do hard things when they feel anxious about it. This will take time and lots of experience. So first, we support them through the experience of anxiety by leading, calmly, bravely through the storm.

Because courage isn’t the absence of anxiety.

It’s moving forward, with support, until confidence catches up.♥️
‘Making sure they aren’t alone in it’ means making sure we, or another adult, helps them feel seen, safe, and cared as they move towards the brave, meaningful, growthful thing.❤️
Children will look to their closest adult - a parent, a teacher, a grandparent, an aunt, an uncle - for signs of safety and signs of danger.

What the parent believes, the child will follow, for better or worse.

Anxiety doesn’t mean they aren’t safe or capable. It means they don’t feel safe or capable enough yet.

As long as they are safe, this is where they need to borrow our calm and certainty until they can find their own. 

The questions to ask are, ‘Do I believe they are safe and cared for here?’ ‘Do I believe they are capable?’

It’s okay if your answer is no to either of these. We aren’t meant to feel safe handing our kiddos over to every situation or to any adult.

But if the answer is no, that’s where the work is.

What do you need to know they are safe and cared for? What changes need to be made? What can help you feel more certain? Is their discomfort from something unsafe or from something growthful? What needs to happen to know they are capable of this?

This can be so tricky for parents as it isn’t always clear. Are they anxious because this is new or because it’s unsafe?

As long as they are relationally safe (or have an adult working towards this) and their bodies feel safe, the work is to believe in them enough for them to believe it too - to handle our very understandable distress at their distress, make space for their distress, and show them we believe in them by what we do next: support avoidance or brave behaviour.

As long as they are safe, we don’t need to get rid of their anxiety or big feelings. Lovingly make space for those feelings AND brave behaviour. They can feel anxious and do brave. 

‘I know this feels big. Bring all your feelings to me. I can look after you through all of it. And yes, this is happening. I know you can do this. We’ll do it together.’

But we have to be kind and patient with ourselves too. The same instinct that makes you a wonderful parent - the attachment instinct - might send your ‘they’re not safe’ radar into overdrive. 

Talk to their adults at school, talk to them, get the info you need to feel certain enough, and trust they are safe, and capable enough, even when anxiety (theirs and yours) is saying no.❤️
Anxiety in kids is tough for everyone - kids and the adults who care about them.

It’s awful for them and confusing for us. Do we move them forward? Hold them back? Is this growing them? Hurting them?

As long as they are safe - as long as they feel cared for through it and their bodies feel okay - anxiety doesn’t mean something is wrong. 
It also doesn’t mean they aren’t capable.

It means there is a gap: ‘I want to, but I don’t know that I’ll be okay.’

As long as they are safe, they don’t need to avoid the situation. They need to keep going, with support, so they can gather the evidence they need. This might take time and lots of experiences.

The brain will always abandon the ‘I want to,’ in any situation that doesn’t have enough evidence - yet - that they’re safe.

Here’s the problem. If we support avoidance of safe situations, the brain doesn’t get the experience it needs to know the difference between hard, growthful things (like school, exams, driving tests, setting boundaries, job interviews, new friendships) and dangerous things. 

It takes time and lots of experience to be able to handle the discomfort of anxiety - and all hard, important, growthful things will come with anxiety.

The work for us isn’t to hold them back from safe situations (even though we’ll want to) but to help them feel supported through the anxiety.

This is part of helping them gather the evidence their brains and bodies need to know they can feel safe and do hard things, even when they are anxious.

Think of the space between comfortable (before the growthful thing) and ‘I’ve done the important, growthful thing,’ as ‘the brave space’. 

But it never feels brave. It feels like anxious, nervous, stressed, scared, awkward, clumsy. It’s all brave - because that’s what anxiety is. It’s handling the discomfort of the brave space while they inch toward the important thing.

Any experience in the brave space matters. Even if it’s just little steps at a time. Why? Because this is where they learn that they don’t need to be scared of anxiety when they’re heading towards something important. As long as they are safe, the anxiety of the brave space won’t hurt them. It will grow them.❤️