“You’re a f@ck-up like your mom”
I am witnessing a blow-out fight between a couple. They have two small children, 4? And 6?
The wife has been screaming at the husband that he’s a “fuck-up like his mom” and he’s been silent the whole time. Maybe he is; maybe he isn’t, but the cruelty of her words hits my heart.
I’m watching the two children; it’s like a cruel experiment. I get to see, in real time, what young children do when one parent attacks another. They circle their father as he move around, smokes, silently fumes.
The fight is over and the kids follow their father everywhere he goes.
When kids feel safe and relaxed, they venture out. They leave their parent’s side, within a safe perimeter, and explore. But these kids are circling the father like flies, he doesn’t see them.
These kids don’t know what to do with themselves, and the older child is showing anxious tics.
I don’t have a lot of judgement around what I’m seeing. I’ve been around long enough to know louder doesn’t mean worse, and every couple has their way of hurting each other. Silent fuming can be as cancerous as yelling.
I snapped at my husband in front of one of my kids last night. It was mean, controlling, demeaning. Was it a public rant? No, but I could see my kid flinch.
When I got my head straight, I apologized, fully owned my behavior, and apologized to my child, too.
Through sobriety, therapy, and constant work, I’m able to own my shit. And draw the boundary when I don’t want to own someone else’s shit.
That wife may be right in everything she said, and he may deserve her ire and rage. I kind of respect her ability to let it fly…not give a shit who hears or sees. She is not hiding.
But the harm to the kids is undeniable and while the rage feels good, but helps nothing.
If you tend to rage, how would it feel to practice taking full responsibility? For your emotions and reactions? Try on, “no one or nothing is making me rage…I’m raging because I feel…”
If words don’t come, trying standing up and bouncing up and down on your bones, shaking, twisting and moving. See what opens up when you come to stillness.
Keep practicing this.
Love you, let’s keep going.
