I was covered in kids, both of whom were unhappy and insisting they had had the smaller share of mama-cuddling. We were a pile of tired and I was in surround-sound stereo: “But I want as many minutes as Orlando!” and “Mica went first last night!”
I rose up, if not bodily, then in energy, exclaiming, “Everything can’t be the same! Because it’s not the same! You are fighting to have equal amounts thinking that is the answer but it is a losing proposition! It will never be satisfying!”
I was lecturing, which never goes well. I managed to gather myself, slowing my words, winding down, eventually arriving back on earth. Breathe, Mama.
Breathe in.
And I breathed out a story about the Same Monster.
The Same Monster… do you see him over there in the corner of the room? I heard him talking just now, he was saying that he wanted the exact same thing as brother! It couldn’t be even a little bit different. It had to be exactly the same. If brother had two minutes on Mama, he wanted two minutes! If brother had fourteen grapes, he wanted fourteen grapes! That same monster stomps around the house, insisting that things are the same!
But then when he gets the same thing, he wants the next same thing. He doesn’t always feel happy. In fact, I think he’s feeling a little sad, over there in the corner.
“It’s okay, Same Monster,” I said into the corner of the room, “to feel sad. Sometimes it’s hard not to have the same things or do the same things as brother. Sometimes you wish you were smaller or bigger or faster. Sometimes you wish you had Mama all to yourself.”
The children were quiet and still, listening. And then the Same Monster got up from the corner and went down to the garden, where he noticed something. Of all the cherry tomatoes on the vine, not one of them was the same as the other! He picked a few and ate them. They were juicy, cool, and sweet.
In the darkened bedroom, Mica asked where the same monster went next. It turned out he went to the beach, where the rocks were purple, green, grey, black, brick-red. Where each wave was its own size, shape, and arriving in its own time. We traveled through a lullaby of detail, difference, smells, tastes, and sights, until finally the Same Monster came back home, where he got into bed with us, and cuddled with all three of us together.
We were in a pile, but no longer bunched up — the kids were not starving for more and I was free from the spasm of Stop energy.
Later, when I first reflected on the Same Monster story, I was feeling proud that I was teaching my children to appreciate differences. But then I recognized the real importance of that story: when the Same Monster was feeling sad and I could sense my kids peeking into the corners of their own sadness. Into the grief of realizing that they are brothers, that there are two of them, and that sometimes they get different amounts… of time, of grapes, of Mama.
The story has provided a short-hand for us in the days since… Now we can summon the Same Monster to help us see our desires, to feel our feelings, and to conceive, just maybe, of a new possibility. New possibilities which can’t be seen until the feelings are felt.
From Gordon Neufeld I learned about something he calls the traffic circle…
Imagine a circle. Frustration goes in and it comes out in three ways: by making change, by adapting to circumstances we cannot change, or by attack. If we are unable to make change and are able to feel grief about that, we adapt. If we are unable to make change but are also unable to feel grief, our frustration turns to attack (which can take many forms, such as acting mean and rude, hitting and fighting, foul moods, self-deprecation, sarcasm, irritability and impatience, etc.).
My children were feeling the frustration of not having the same things, likely masking even deeper feelings about not wanting to have a brother. Trying to convince them to stop acting or feeling frustrated would not help. They might learn to mask the frustration, but it would still be there, and instead of coming out in bickering it might come out later in a secret punch or pinch. Or maybe older brother would develop a taunting tone when talking to the younger one. And we would never get to the feelings underneath.
The way to resolve frustration (and in the process, change behavior — a great side benefit!) is to feel the futility inherent in the situation: They each do have a brother. That’s a fact! And it is simply not possible to have the same things all the time. And sometimes they feel sad about these things. I want them to feel that sadness, not because I want them to be sad, but because the sadness will help them adapt to the way life is.
After they’ve felt the sadness, sometime later on, maybe they could consider the idea of appreciating differences. But to be honest, that was an idea from my very adult, thinking mind. These children need to feel their feelings more than they need my ideas. And in order to feel, they need soft hearts. To have soft hearts, they need safe spaces. As Gordon says, children need an invitation — for all parts of themselves — to exist in the presence of their parents.
That is why, now, when the Same Monster comes around, I welcome him with open arms, and we listen more closely to his sadness, and to all his feelings.
~ * ~
This post also appears today on the Seattle Neufeld Community blog. Please pop over to check out stories shared in the spirit of more deeply understanding human development and attachment while in the midst of raising up these lovely young ones (and sometimes ourselves, too).
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my girl is going through some social issues, and i’ve found myself somewhat lecturing, but also creating a distance. partly because she likes to hear me talk, and mostly because of my anxiety to make the problem go away for her.
i had been thinking just yesterday that i’, closing the space to allow her to express feelings or tell of events without any anxieties over my possible reactions. your words today help confirm my next steps….
Monica recently posted…the weekend
Mon,
Glad to help reflect your inner knowing… I’ll be holding space for you holding space for your daughter.
-s
This is so brilliant!! My boys are 7 and almost 4 and the Same Monster visits all the time!! I LOVE this story as my boys learn far more from stories than from my own lecturing and Stop energy. But lately, I haven’t felt so creative … thank you for sharing this and inspiring me as always with your beautiful parenting. I won’t forget this line anytime soon:
New possibilities which can’t be seen until the feelings are felt.
I know, stories are so magical. So many times they escape me, but I am always so pleased when through some inner arcane process, I call upon one and it appears.
This IS brilliant! I only have one child but I know that sadness underlies many eruptions of anger in our house. Sadness not expressed, and with it an inability to adapt, all covered over by a thin veneer of resentment (anger). I think it applies on a national and global scale as well. I’m going to digest this and read it again and again.
Frith,
I am so glad you are reading along and that we are still sharing each other’s lives in some way through this blog and Facebook!
I’ve been thinking on a national/social scale as well. That time of year, I guess:)
Lately, I’ve been thinking about interconnectedness, and compassion that is open and inclusive and nonjudgmental in contrast to closing down/locking out/casting away. They are such different stances to take in the world, and I have experienced on a personal level how the “cut it out” approach never works… it hasn’t healed my inner conflicts and pains, it hasn’t improved my children’s behavior, and it has rarely, if ever, benefited the person I supposedly intend to help.
If we are all interconnected, the answer to healing cannot lie in taking things apart. If we are all interconnected, we cannot be undone. I feel a deep truth in that.
thank you! I thnk I need this post more for myself than the kids but thank you for your ideas to help us all out. Lots of love your w ay
oh what a great post stacy! we are in the throws of serious sibling rivalry just begun here! this really helps me to allow my big boy to feel his feelings and maybe time for a story made up by me like you with the awesome same monster story. i forgot about that most wonderful of techniques in dealing with difficult behavior.
Anushka recently posted…happy halloween
Beautiful story… Thanks so much for sharing.
Janice recently posted…Happy Family
…can you say Children’s Book Author? That is what I find myself thinking about while reading and rereading this inspiring, original, deep and rich story. My heart thanks your heart. Namaste’, Shelley
Yes, The Same Monster children’s book! Yes!
Stacy, thank you for again and again *showing* the way to us, to your kids.
6512 and growing recently posted…dispatches: these skills will help them someday
…one more thought just arrived. In the world of Whole Systems Design, which is my professional world, we make a distinction between “balance” and “symmetry.” Balance is seen as more mathmatical and from the world of engineering. Symmetry is viewed as more design-based. I wonder, Does the Same Monster live in a world where balance is the mode? Where scales are weighing everything for evenness? There is a natural beauty in symmetry, but it is not always evenly balanced…in fact, sometimes being unbalanced is the most beautiful. Hmmm…I am just appreciating wondering.
Thanks, Shelley, for your thoughts. I love it!
I also received comment (via email) with another twist on things… as in perhaps the answer to soothing the desire for sameness is not to appreciate differences but to open our eyes to the way in which things are the same. To broaden our perspective and ability to see what is shared. As in: These two tomatoes are both tomatoes, with seeds inside, they grew on the same plant, were fed by the same roots, touched by the same sun… etc.
So much to feel and sink into.
Love you,
Stacy
thank you wise mama, for a reflection of sameness and not-sameness and the place in the middle to which we strive to be. sometimes leaning and tilting a bit this way, and sometimes shifting and swaying a bit that way. i love the traffic circle analogy, and every time i have seen gordon neufeld speak (thrice) i have come away humbled and so keen to practise new things. he inspires! we have a younger boy who is still hungering for a missed-out piece of his mama’s time and attuned atention, , when he was 2 and 1/2 years old and my brother and dad both died the same year. my grief was heavy and we detached in many ways. co-sleeping, breast feeding and carrying kept us together, but emotionally he is still yearning for same. and i am needing for both he and i to feel those tears of futility, that place of acceptance and that hope arising. we do this and i want to step it up, to really attach and strengthen, and heal.
many blessings to you, dear one . xo
erin recently posted…the little cantaloupe that did
Hi Dear Erin,
Thanks so much for sharing your story. I can really relate, and am wishing you both so much healing! A lifetime of it…
I recently had an interesting experience about Mica’s early years. Last weekend, at my Neufeld class, I heard myself say, “Mica is my more defended child.” I had said this before, after slowly realizing it over the last year or so. Then later that afternoon, I went to a bodywork appointment and was exploring this feeling in my hip bone when I suddenly remembered that I started a job when I was 8 months pregnant with Mica. It’s not like I’d actually forgotten this fact but it was evoked in such a way that it felt like an insight. Re-membering… as in, putting the pieces back together. And then a whole chronology came tumbling out: I went back to work (part-time from home) when Mica was four months old. And then I fell apart physically when he was six months old (the dizziness and the sinus infection and the shot adrenal glands, some of which is chronicled here)… And then we had housemates for six months, which turned out to be incredibly stressful…. and then, a couple months after they moved out, my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer and I flew down with Mica to help her that spring. [She is cancer-free now and doing well!] A few months after that Rom was laid-off when the economy tanked in 2008.
This was Mica’s first two years of life.
Wow.
Yesterday, after we came home from dropping off Brother, he said, “Let’s get under the covers.” He took off all his clothes (I was dressed) and we cuddled and cuddled and he asked me to tell him his birth story. So I did. “We are so happy you came.”
Love,
Stacy
Thank you Stacy for this beautiful insight… The part about the traffic circle was particularly meaningful for me at the present.
wonderful!!!! felt feelings. ahhh. can i express mild jealousy that you have a neufeld community? how awesome. i will bask in your blog so i can vicariously absorb some of that awesomeness. i love the traffic circle imagery. another wonderful read, stacy.
mb recently posted…ornithology of gratitude