Giving Your Children the Brush-Off
It always jars me when a child is hurt — on the playground, in a soccer game, or just horsing around — and when he tearfully staggers towards his parents, he is immediately directed to “brush it off.” His natural reaction to pain and injury is perceived as babyish, weak and unappealing, or at least inconvenient for others to see or hear. Rather, he is supposed to be tough, suck it up and ignore his feelings. The child takes a deep breath and usually obeys. But I wonder, is it possible to brush off feelings?
If we could really brush away all our feelings, just imagine how neat and tidy life would be!
Imagine this… It begins with a newborn. Instead of receiving mechanical swings and pacifiers as shower gifts, expectant parents are given a special brush, the “Easy-Off Pain Remover” with its patented “anti-emotive, no tears formula.” When a baby makes even a peep, she is gently brushed over her torso, from chest to belly, and voila! The feelings are brushed away like specks of lint, and then, while wearing a ‘gasp mask,’ parents carefully sweep the baby’s feelings up and pour them out into a special re-psycho-able, insanitary container. (Well worth the trouble to never have to hear a baby cry!)
And, as children grow, they are taught to self-brush uncomfortable feelings. They learn to “get it off their chest”, literally, from the age of 2. Since everyone learns how to groom their feelings, the human experience loses its nasty, rough edges. Everyone is calm, contented, and emotionally self-sufficient. Life no longer zigs and zags wildly like Space Mountain at Disneyland. It is a smooth, elevated ride on the Monorail.
In reality, of course, life without emotion would be dull as lint. The disownment of discomfort, pain or sorrow would mean the death of joy and ecstasy. There is no yang without yin. Devoid of passion, we would no longer be inspired to create art, music, or literature.
Our pain, like our joy, is connected to who we are. Ultimately, it is our soul. When we whisper to a baby, “Shush, don’t cry,” when we tell a hurt toddler, “You’re okay,” or ask him to “brush it off,” our intent is to calm the child, but what message are we sending? The child does not feel okay. The parent’s well-meaning words convey to him that his feelings must be wrong, or at least unimportant.
We all want to raise healthy children with strong coping skills, but a child who is not allowed the opportunity to express his feelings fully, to ride out waves of emotion to the end, does not acquire the basic knowledge that all feelings pass. No matter how horrendous we feel in the trench of the wave, the pain gradually subsides, and we can move on. So, when we are allowed those experiences as children, we gain self-confidence. We still feel the pain of the next wave, but we know it will crest and that we will survive. We can cope. Pain strengthens us.
So, since feelings cannot literally be swept away, we must work to be patient, calm ourselves, and acknowledge a child’s feelings, rather than rushing in to arrest them. Then we can imagine another future, one where we are free to be our most joyful, sorrowful, beautiful, ugly selves, and embrace the highs and lows of a messy, imperfect, but authentic life.
“I can be sad or happy whenever anything makes me sad or happy; I don’t have to look cheerful for someone else, and I don’t have to suppress my distress or anxiety to fit other people’s needs. I can be angry and no one will die or get a headache because of it.”
– Dr. Alice Miller, (a baby’s fantasy) Drama of the Gifted Child
4 Responses to “Giving Your Children the Brush-Off”
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I have to admit Janet, I am guilty of the “brush off.” But even understanding it and having it held up to see clearly, I don’t believe I would choose differently in all cases.
My son was on the front lines in Fallujah. He was the second wave in when it was the hottest place next to Baghdad. I remember talking to him and hearing his fright. I didn’t choose to make him feel better, not at all. I was tough, insensitive, and abrupt. For me, my only single concern was to do all I could do to bring him home safe. I spoke to him “man to man” so to speak and cut him no slack. I told him exactly what you warn against, “to suck it up!” I told him he did not have the luxury to whine, cry or even contemplate. For a soldier, like the police and firemen, that “edge” is what keeps them on their toes and keeps them alive. I wanted my son to be on his. The job I saw for myself at that moment in time was to make him as sharp as absolutely possible. I told him in no uncertain terms, to do the job he was trained to do. Unfortunately, that meant getting the enemy before they got him. I know how another might read these words and think to themselves, “what an @#$!” But this was an instance when “feeling good” took a back seat to just about everything else. And I believe, those are the words he needed. He didn’t a shoulder, a pat on the back, or nice blanket to hold on to, he was looking for and needed to be reminded what was at stake. And sparing you and your readers the details, I did exactly that. But in the course of the pep-talk, I did tell him that when he got home he was welcome to cry his heart out for so long as needed to, but only when he got home.
I have to admit, I too was scared. I said my son’s eulogy over in my head a hundred times. For any parent with a child in combat it is a horrific experience. His mom could cry, but not me. I saw my job to make my son about as tough as anything that walked the earth. His life depended on him being meaner, faster, and better that his adversary. Old fashioned, sexist, whatever, I did what I believed I had to do. And as I admit at the beginning, I would do it again.
It took him about two years to recover. And I was concerned and I spent numerous hours speaking with others, including counselors who understood better than I. It was hard to give him his emotions and watch him suffer, but I knew too that I could never understand what he felt. I followed the advice of people just like you and gave him his time. I remained observant and alert, but otherwise gave him those feelings of pain, anguish and torment, and allowed them to run their course. And today, as I have mentioned before, he is doing phenominal!
One other thing I told him while he was there, was to pray for his enemy. To ask that their souls be caught by the hands of the Father before their bodies ever touched the ground. My son is wonderful man. I am proud both that he fights for his country and that he anguishes over having to do it. He is a man of honor. Hard when appropriate, soft when appropriate.
Getting back on subject, child care is not easy and certainly no game. Insight, understanding and an open mind is so very important. That those are but a few of the several things I enjoy about your articles. If we are open minded, which I hope for our childrens’ sake we all are, we are forced to think, and hopefully realize we are not wizards. And that sharing can make a big difference in all of us growing and perhaps more importantly, passing along that growth to generations to come.
I am certainly not a “by the book” dad. I just can’t be, I am guided by good advice, my spirituality, and old fashioned values. But certainly I’m open minded as well, so I hope. And I continue to study and learn even as my son is twenty-four now. So, again, thank you for sharing all you do with all of us. No matter how old I get or my son gets, I’m always a father and I’ll always be be challenged.
Ed Stagg: I agree with you 100%. Janet’s parenting advice does not apply to grown men in combat. Basic training clearly establishes the military’s view on a soldier’s feelings: stuff with extreme prejudice — live to cry another day.
Janet, perhaps you need a disclaimer on your home page?
Somewhat in jest,
- Grace
I don’t know that I’d be quite so hard on Janet’s post Grace. As a general proposition I agree with Janet. Even being old fashion and very traditonal, I have encouraged my son to express his feelings no matter what they are. In fact, he was always allowed to disagree with me and show anger, frustration, etc., so long as it was done with a bit of respect. I believed that allowed him the healthy ability to vent while learning how to do it in acceptable manner. And I will admit, there were times when he was right and I was wrong. He learned trust for me when I was willing to listen and when due, apologize or whatever the situation called for. It was that exact trust we had for one another that allowed him to be honest when he was scared, for me to be honest in my response, and for him to trust in what I had to say.
There are times when one characterist dominates another, and I believe, rightfully so. But hopefully we teach our children understanding for their feelings and which ones are appropriate under pevailing circumstances.
I have done my best over the years to follow the advice that Janet professes in her article and even now I continue to work on that attitude. I was only sharing a time when an authoritative approach was, in my opinion, the better one.
I believe in the saying that “we don’t raise children, we raise adults.” Children have a unique ability to know children stuff. But we are preparing them for their adult lives. Under ordinary circumstances, I think that even the most traditional man should be able to express himself well and openly. Let’s be honest that is not always the case. Janet’s article speaks to that I believe and a character trait that will serve the men of tomorrow well. I think we’d save more marriages and see far less infighting among numerous different relationships if we could all feel safe and confident speaking freely and honestly. My son did, for if he hadn’t, I might never have known to be there for him when he needed me the most. I depended on his ability to express himself and I thank God he could accept my honesty in telling him what he needed, if even he didn’t want to hear it. In a manner of speaking, it was my son that allowed me to do my job.
There is no way to cover any topic considering every possibility. So we speak to one or two things at a time. All advice should be but only pieces to a much larger puzzle. It’s up to us to piece them together. Every parent is different as is every child. Some pieces work, others don’t. But I’m alway greatful to have all the pieces at my disposal to call on if and or when I might need them.
This is a really interesting post. I sometimes am guilty of the brush off. I weigh up the situation, if they are really hurt, I comfort them.
I never really thought of the effects of the brush off until now, thank you.