I have learned that after a difficult conversation, I do not sleep well. I toss and turn for hours in the evenings, then I wake up at 2:00 AM and stare at the darkness outside. I re-examine my entire life and find it wasted. I tell myself that my child sees my husband and me as walking bank accounts and servants. It sounds dramatic, I know.
Every time I need to advise my child and the advice contains even the slightest criticism, I am afraid to do it. I am afraid of her reaction, of how emotional she becomes. By the way, “criticism” is a bit strong word in our case. I always advise with a resolution of a problem, with a reason on why and how things should be done or not done. I do not dictate, I do not throw insults. I recommend.
Every time, I try to explain that whatever I tell her is in her interest, not mine. The parents are the most selfless people, who back up their children and help them in life. This explanation never works. According to my girl, we are old and do not understand anything, or we have twisted minds that make no sense. It is like talking to each other from two different worlds, across a barrier that distorts every word.
Yesterday, I had to tell my child something that upset her. I planned on the difficult conversation for days; I knew that the clash was coming and dreaded it. My girl did not think about the consequences of some social media “expressions”. I had to point out to these consequences. Finally, I talked to her yesterday morning. Then, for the entire day, she did not come to eat with us, she did not talk to us. Would I have felt better if I had not told her the right thing? Probably not, and anyway, the difficult conversation would have been carried out some time later.
I am trying to remember if when I was my child’s age I also had a problem with “criticism”. I vaguely remember something my mom was complaining about – maybe I did have the same problem. I did not take criticism well. Yet, I never dared to have a huge reaction to my mom’s remarks. The most I did was to slam a door behind me. This was my extent of being angry some 34 years ago. I respected and feared a bit my parents. I also loved them dearly. To this day, my love grows. In all my memories, I rediscover how much sacrifice my parents have gone through and how much they have given me from themselves. I also reflect on how much they have given up in life, so that they can raise two children in difficult and unforgiving times.
Anyway, I am writing this because one day my girl may read it. I want her to know that as parents, we always have had her well-being and success in our hearts. She would never find other people in her life, who have only good intentions for her.
Joshua Sheats once mentioned in a podcast that as parents we need to do the right thing and tell our child the truth and give advice. This is our parental duty. Whether or not the child listens and does the right thing is beyond the power of the most loving parent.
By the way, I do not tell my child only unpleasant things. I frequently point out to her how beautiful, accomplished and talented she is. She is also capable of learning amazing new skills that I would never acquire. She is a bit headstrong, but I do not want her to be malleable. I know that she will succeed in life because she has a strong character. And I never forget to tell her that I love her.
My advice to a parent, who reads this post is to not postpone difficult conversations. I also recommend that if you, as a parent feel down from the fallout of a difficult conversation, write how you feel about it. This morning, after a more or less sleepless night, writing the post was therapeutic for me. Maybe it would be therapeutic for you as well?
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