The Power of Resistance

I had many errands to run and Greyson, who was 3 at the time, was going with me. Our plan was to go to the toy store (at Greyson’s request) as our third stop before grocery shopping. Between the first and second stops he says that he wants to go to Wal-Mart. I have a negative internal reaction, but suppress it, and say “Okay we’ll go to Wal-Mart.”

I pull into the parking lot and he says in a disappointed voice, “Why are we at Wal-Mart?” I immediately react with anger and say to him “The only reason we are at Wal-Mart is because you asked to come.” I am sure I said this at least three times. “I did not want to come to Wal-Mart, you did.” I then ask him if he wants to go in and he says no, let’s go to Toys R Us.

I then keep going in my downward spiral and lecture him about the fact that once we leave Wal-Mart we are not going to come back. So, he had better be sure he does not ask to come back. In my mind I am thinking, I drove a mile out of my way (yes, one-whole-mile!) to come to the store and NOW he does not want to go in!

It is very quiet in the back. Once I am back on the road, I come back to reality a bit. I apologize to Greyson. He does not respond. Of course, I really want him to say, “It’s okay mom!” I want my 3 year-old son to absolve me of my guilt about yelling. I want him to take care of MY needs.

I adjust the rear view mirror and I see a defeated, sad little boy staring out the window. Of course, while I am in angry lecture mode, I am not looking at him and choose not to see how my words, tone and volume are hurting him. Clearly, he is in pain.

I then try to give voice to how he might be feeling. I ask him if he is sad because I yelled at him. He nods. I ask him if he feels upset and frustrated because I was angry. He nods. I ask him if he wants me to stop getting angry and yelling. He nods again.

It is a low moment for me to see how I have wounded this person that I love so much. He is so little and vulnerable. And yet, his feelings are as big as mine. I have used my power as an adult to dominate, shame, and hurt him.

Despite what I do, he still loves me, and yet I have created distrust, fear, and resentment. My fear of my own anger resurfaces. I feel guilty and disgusted with myself. I so want to push down the anger that I have inside of me.

When Greyson first asked me to go to Wal-Mart I was annoyed and, if I really admit it, angry. I had already agreed to take him to Toys R Us. Why should I have to go to another store?

Instead of acknowledging, even just to myself, that I am angry that he would even ask, I push away my “negative” feelings. I resist the fact that I am angry and try to talk myself into feeling better rather than allowing and accepting how I feel. Rather than allowing myself to be where I am at, I decide to perform and pretend to be something I am not at that moment.

This is, of course, not the first time I have resisted my “negative feelings” and then exploded at a later time. Despite my desire to create a parenting paradigm that is based on respect, not domination, I fall far short of my ideals.

My childhood was spent waiting to become an adult so that I would matter as much as the adults around me did. When I perceive or feel as though my needs do not matter to others, then I am triggered and I get angry.

By denying my feelings of anger, I am making the choice to disregard myself. In essence, I am perpetuating the disempowerment of childhood. Instead of owning up to my role (and power) in this cycle, I choose to focus my anger on the person who is less powerful than me, Greyson. I fall into the "parent as a victim of the child" mode.

Ironically, when I accept all the parts of myself, I come much closer to liberating myself from this dominant paradigm. I have spent almost 45 years living and accepting the idea that the feelings, needs, and desires of adults were more important than any child’s feelings, needs and desires. For Greyson’s (and Martel's) sake, I hope that unlearning this will not take another 45 years.

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