I feel like so much makes me irritated, angry, annoyed. But as I reach for a description of those things this evening, I’m coming up blank. And truth is, in this moment of reprieve from my annoyance, enjoying the calmness of a gray morning at low tide, I don’t want to go chasing those thoughts down the hallways of my mind. I have no desire to play hide and seek with my anger, it can wait in the hall closet until I stumble upon it.
I've been considering lately how to support my son, who is brimming with anger. So much unspoken frustration has built up over time, that now he is like a volcano ready to erupt that occasionally belches fire in warning of the epic eruption to come. Nearly every correction I give him is met with fury or eyes full of tears of frustration. So misunderstood, so angry, and yet so unwilling to talk about the root of all his anger and so it builds.
I’ve spent some time thinking about how I could encourage a safe eruption- he needs to let it out. I’ve got some ideas, particularly with the experiences I had when his sister experienced epic levels of dysregulation and was literally tearing the house apart. Her mattress, lifted off the bed and leaned against the wall, paper torn into pieces, items moved or baskets of things dumped out on the floor. On evenings where she lost it and would yell unspeakably hurtful things in my direction as she bounced around our small apartment looking for things to destroy, I was thankful that my sister was here, crawling in bed with my son to read him stories for bedtime, while I stood in the gap and tried to keep everyone safe. I felt so helpless and exhausted but kept doing my best, using my time with my therapist, a trauma specialist, to talk through strategies I could use to support her in moving emotions safely through her body. And I became more skilled, and she worked through her feelings, and thank god we have made it to a different time in our relationship. But my kids are different, as it always is, and so I wait and try to be ready to clear the deck and be present in love when my son is finally at a point where he can express all he is feeling but is unwilling to say. I have no doubt that he still may not tell me in words, but I know that I can be there. I’m trying to stay well rested in the meantime, and push back the nagging fear that we are running out of time to take care of this at home before it spills over elsewhere.
— slowjamr
I've been considering lately how to support my son, who is brimming with anger. So much unspoken frustration has built up over time, that now he is like a volcano ready to erupt that occasionally belches fire in warning of the epic eruption to come. Nearly every correction I give him is met with fury or eyes full of tears of frustration. So misunderstood, so angry, and yet so unwilling to talk about the root of all his anger and so it builds.
I’ve spent some time thinking about how I could encourage a safe eruption- he needs to let it out. I’ve got some ideas, particularly with the experiences I had when his sister experienced epic levels of dysregulation and was literally tearing the house apart. Her mattress, lifted off the bed and leaned against the wall, paper torn into pieces, items moved or baskets of things dumped out on the floor. On evenings where she lost it and would yell unspeakably hurtful things in my direction as she bounced around our small apartment looking for things to destroy, I was thankful that my sister was here, crawling in bed with my son to read him stories for bedtime, while I stood in the gap and tried to keep everyone safe. I felt so helpless and exhausted but kept doing my best, using my time with my therapist, a trauma specialist, to talk through strategies I could use to support her in moving emotions safely through her body. And I became more skilled, and she worked through her feelings, and thank god we have made it to a different time in our relationship. But my kids are different, as it always is, and so I wait and try to be ready to clear the deck and be present in love when my son is finally at a point where he can express all he is feeling but is unwilling to say. I have no doubt that he still may not tell me in words, but I know that I can be there. I’m trying to stay well rested in the meantime, and push back the nagging fear that we are running out of time to take care of this at home before it spills over elsewhere.
— slowjamr
You don't say how old your son is. I hope there IS time. Very stark presentation here that is full of patience, fear, love, all of it. (Macoff)
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