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Key points
- Many parents get triggered when their children are upset.
- The key to an effective response is to acknowledge the reality of their emotion, even if the event is small.
- Adults need to be able to bear the pain themselves and not be overwhelmed with it out of an excess of empathy.
- It is up to the parents to keep the incident in perspective; all humans suffer, and this, too, shall pass.
Many parents experience pain and confusion when a child relates a sad tale of being mistreated by a friend, sibling, classmate, or teacher: “Janie was mean to me”; “My teacher picked on me”; “It’s not fair!”
How do we support our children through this type of upset?
It may be tempting (but not very helpful) to offer support this way: “Oh, my poor, precious, innocent, misunderstood, mistreated dear, how terrible that that mean person did that to you. Tell me everything they did so we can start a lawsuit!” (I am exaggerating one common type of response—but only by a little.)
Or it may be tempting (but just as unhelpful) to say something like, “You must have done something to deserve it...”; “Listen to your teacher; she’s in charge...”; “Don’t be such a baby...”; “Life isn’t fair...”; “Don’t be a tattle-tale...”; “You’re too sensitive.”
The middle way between these extremes is to acknowledge their pain, to bear the pain and help them bear it, and to keep some perspective on it. I borrowed this formulation from Dr. Elvin Semrad, the late psychiatrist from Boston, Massachusetts, who taught therapists that this was their role in their patients’ pain. It’s the same for our children.
When we acknowledge the pain, we don’t dismiss it or amplify it
Acknowledging our child’s pain means reflecting back what we have heard without making a judgment about it. “Sounds like that hurt your feelings,” or “I can hear how sad and angry you are,” instead of “That girl/teacher is so mean,” or “Get over it.”
Acknowledgment is not agreement. If your child reports something outrageous, you can still acknowledge the upset (“I hear you saying that the teacher made the whole class stand on their heads all day—wow!”). You don’t have to add, “That didn’t happen,” or rush to the phone to demand an explanation from the teacher. Acknowledgment doesn’t ask if suffering is “legitimate.” All suffering deserves compassion.
Bearing a child’s pain means not being swept away by it
As humans, we all have a basic level of empathy; as parents, that empathic response is amped up to a whole other level. That’s a good thing—up to a point. If we get too worked up ourselves, we rob children of the chance to feel their own feelings. My friend Ethel was so upset that her son wasn’t invited to a birthday party that she couldn’t sleep for a week. That’s too much empathy, or perhaps not empathy at all, but a case of a mom flooding with her own emotions, probably from early experiences of exclusion or rejection.
When we can bear our child’s pain without dismissing it, they learn to bear their own pain, which is a crucial life lesson. If we can’t bear a child’s pain, we may give them a cookie or tell them they are a helpless victim who needs to be rescued. These responses teach a child that pain is unbearable, and that can lead to helplessness and hopelessness.
Part of bearing the pain is noticing that, often, your child will tell you about a terrible event, get you all worked up about it, and then run off to play happily. They feel better because they have done everything they needed to do, which is hand the pain over to you for your empathy and concern. Now, it’s your turn to let it go.
Here’s an example of acknowledging and bearing a child’s pain: “I can really feel inside how that hurt you. That’s a strong feeling. If that happened to me, I might feel very disappointed. Is that what you feel?”
Perspective means knowing that this, too, shall pass
All children are teased by peers or feel unfairly treated by a teacher at some point. It hurts, but it need not leave lasting scars as long as it is treated as worthy of compassion but bearable.
Seeing the bigger picture requires thinking silently to yourself rather than saying your thoughts out loud to your child. My friend might have thought to herself, “There will be other parties, and my son is fine in his social life; this pain is intense now, but it will pass, and most of all, this is about him, not me.” However, if she said this out loud to him, that might come across as dismissive of his feelings.
Another aspect of perspective is that there is time for things to unfold organically, with no rush to resolution. “What do you think you might like to try next?” is better than telling your child what they should do next. Even if you have a very good idea, it is still your idea, not their idea.
Social skills, fairness, power dynamics, assertiveness—these things take years to master. Don’t rush the process by telling your child to drop it, by telling them what to do, or by doing it for them. Don’t rush to dismiss their ideas for resolution either—even if they aren’t very good ideas—because your judgment will cut short their brainstorming process. Instead, you can say, “Interesting idea. Got any others?” or, “I wonder how that will work out.”
Another aspect of perspective is that you are not getting the whole story. No child comes home and says, “Ha ha, I made three other children cry today,” or “I made life hell for my teacher; she is thinking of becoming a plumber.” No, they say, “Nobody would play with me,” or “My teacher made me miss recess for no reason.” Don’t tell them out loud that you know there is more to the story, but remember it yourself.
What about the parents’ pain?
At the same time that you are being compassionate and empathic towards your children, acknowledging and bearing their pain, be sure to aim some of that compassion and empathy towards yourself. We suffer when our children suffer, and we deserve for our pain to also be acknowledged, borne, and kept in perspective.
