Motherapy

So, tell me about your mother... Oh, wait, I am your mother! I have felt inspired lately to start "Motherapy sessions" with my children. (Mother + Therapy sessions.) These are just informal conversations that I purposefully initiate with each one of my children, or they can request a "session" with me. The sessions are monetarily free, though I do require a hug as a copay, and a kiss on the cheek as full payment.

Sometimes, I take my children one-on-one and we go to a quiet place at home; or we just spend time together driving in the car and the conversations come up; or I have even had children request combined sessions with another sibling, to work out some hard feelings between them.

I never know when one of my children will need to talk, so I keep my Motherapy calendar open.

These "sessions" are becoming more frequent and purposeful lately, as our family dynamic is all over the map with teenagers, a tween, a kindergartener, and me: a single, widowed, mom. Maybe calling this family interaction a "session" seems overly formal and impersonal, but I assure you, it is a beautiful thing for our family. There is only one of me, and I am trying to balance what two people should be doing, especially in handling the emotional needs of our children.

I very much want my children to feel like they are important to me, and that their feelings matter. I want them to feel comfortable enough to share their feelings with me; especially the hard stuff. Sometimes this takes some emotional digging, tremendous patience, and a whole lot of love. I have found that listening is the most effective tool in getting someone to talk. There are many times when I have to remind myself to zip it and listen, rather than offer advice. I have found that most often the best advice, is the advice given on the other side of a silent hug.

The other night, as I was having a requested session with a few of my children, the topic of stress and PTSD came up. We had a very valuable and much needed conversation about things that trigger my children, and things that trigger me, too. (My children often help me as much, or more, than I help them.) 

I cannot express how hard it is to live in a world of emotional triggers, that constantly cause the heart to ache, in such a painful way. The death of a loved one rocks the very foundation of a world, that was once stable and secure. The death of a parent, is so hard for the children. It is something not even I understand, because I have never experienced it. But I do know what it is like to lose the same person that my children lost -- Charles -- and so I feel I am their best defense in working through their feelings and troubles, because we are in this together now, and always.

If they ever request to see a real therapist, or if I sense they need one, I would take them. For now, I will just have to do. And yes, they even tell me the hard stuff about myself sometimes, because I try to be really open to any and all feelings. I am aware of my weaknesses, and I'm willing to talk about them with my children.

We are all helping each other become better people, and isn't that what family is for?

So, as we talked about some symptoms of PTSD, my older children spoke of things at school that trigger them. Triggers can be simple things. For example, like when their friend's dads come to help with something after school, but their dad isn't there. Ouch. Pain. Or when a friend is complaining about something that their father did that was annoying, and my children just wish there dad was alive. Ouch. That hurts. Or when their male teacher talks about how much he loves his children, and being a father, and spending time with his kids. Ouch. Agony.

Pretty much anything to do with fathers, causes my kiddos pain.

One of the hardest things Sammi has experienced so far, was a day they talked about organ donation. The teacher went into great anatomical detail about the process, and it about made her sick, and it did make her cry. (Charles was an organ donor.) 

These are just a very few basic examples, but the list is endless, and endlessly painful for them, depending on how they are feeling at the time. Even the music my older children sing in choir can often be a trigger, but they work through it, and use music as an emotional outlet, which I am so grateful for. Music is a huge trigger for me, and I actually had to skip one of Sammi's concerts last year, because it was all about death, and I just could not handle it at the time. (Music and coping is another blog entirely.) 

I would also like to add, that I do not blame, or expect others, to be aware of every little thing that might trigger my children, or myself, or anyone who has lost a loved one. We all say and do things that might trigger something in someone that hurts. It is a hard fact of life. The list of life trials are endless, and so are the ways they can affect those who suffer. We can all try to be more sensitive, but even still, it is impossible to tread that carefully in life, without living in total silence in a dark cave. That is why it is important to learn how to work through these emotional triggers, because there is no way around them. Triggers cannot always be avoided, and even should not be avoided; because that would mean isolation, and we are not meant to live that way.

It was so helpful to have this conversation about triggers with my children. We've talked about it before, but life and emotional dynamics are always changing, so these conversations will likely be lifelong and ongoing, as Charles will be missing out on all of their life events in the future. (Yes, I know he will be there in spirit, but ask my children, it is not the same.)

Also, my children are doing very well in life and school, but that does not change the fact that they do suffer from time-to-time, and they need love and understanding from those around them. They see life through a different lens than those who have never lost a parent. The fact that their dad is dead is on their minds, every single day. There has been a lot of pressure on some of my children to be more mature than perhaps they feel they are, and that is hard. Growing up fast comes with the territory of losing a parent. I do believe their loss has made them more empathetic to the pain and needs of others, and I suppose that is one of the compensatory blessings that come from such a trial.

It is important for them (and me) to know that these things are normal after losing a loved one. Our entire family deals with triggers and pressure, pretty much constantly. So, no one in this house is alone in the emotional stress that such hard things can cause. But the more we talk about it, the more we can feel connected, understood, and loved. And, hopefully, we can all handle what life throws our way, with just a little less stress. Brushing things under the table, or avoidance of the hard conversations, just makes things more painful. And I am not interested in any more pain around here. At least not pain that could be remedied with a little love, talking, and a lot of listening.  

I am grateful for inspiration as a mother, and that I have been helped in leading and guiding my family. I wish I was not a widow, I wish my children were not fatherless. But I also know that God has a plan for us, as a family. As I listen to His promptings, I will know how to guide my family, even through the hard stuff... especially through the hard stuff.

I always knew that motherhood was going to be my greatest role and calling on earth; but I certainly never imagined that I would be getting the kind of spiritual education I am currently receiving as a widowed mother of four.

It is like working on a motherhood doctorate degree.

The doctor is in.