Times to Choose Silence...

And some prompts to help you do it.

I read this recently on Substack (from Daily Wellness), and it stopped me in my tracks.

I often coach around the power of silence…on how our chronic need to talk hurts our parenting lives. We so desperately want to share wisdom, solve-problems, and stop suffering that we don’t see how we trample feelings, stifle growth, and increase suffering.

I know we do this, because I do it, too. 

Over the years, I have learned (the hard way) how to be silent. I have learned to refrain from ruining good moments and sorrows with needless words, and I have trained my mind to see when I want to add to that which doesn’t require addition. 

This learning has been painful, and I mean that literally. I have stood outside my children’s bedroom doors in literal heartache, not knowing what to do. I was frozen in my indecision, and yet, I knew that I needed to stay uncomfortable rather than react, react, react. The silence was teaching me something, the pain was teaching me, but Jesus, who would choose this pain? Who would choose the pain of waiting and silence over barging in to control, lecture, solve, and worry? 

Parenting is almost never “right choice or wrong choice.” It is sitting in deep discomfort with yourself over and over until what is needed reveals itself.

What has been needed over the years?

New meds.

New therapists.

Different school. Different school again.

Taking away tech.

Giving the tech back.

Not answering the calls and texts.

Not checking the location.

Not checking the grades portal.

Letting the natural consequence happen.

Cancelling all plans to attend to the child.

Sleeping with them while they cry.

Developing safety plans.

Trusting them to know themselves.

Like sailing, watching my emotions gather and subside, I simply try to not capsize…and that can only happen if I practice silence. The silence allows the skillful action to spring forth.

Questions to ask yourself, as a caregiver:

Read the questions at the top, and reflect on one. (Let’s never do all the things, okay?)