Want your child to care? Start cultivating your empathy

Want your child to care? Start cultivating your empathy (by Miki Dedijer)

A mentor of mine once told me we don’t learn how to be more loving or empathetic. We’re naturally loving from birth.

The difference is small but significant.

We don’t have to strive to feel more or improve ourselves. This perspective is a cultural illness. It affects us when we internalize the industrial ideals of never-ending growth and linear progress.

Instead, we can become more skilled at revealing what’s been there all along.

Growing up, I shut down parts of my heart. There was the pain of broken relationships; the needs that went unmet as a child; stored grief for people and places that I lost connection with; the fear of being hurt or taken advantage of.

Most of us have areas of our hearts we haven’t visited for a long time. We change schools. We move homes. Our parents divorce. A loved one dies. Machines raze our favorite hideout in the woods. Few of us belong to a village that bears witness to the pains of these losses. Few of us have a community that helps us regain the trust we need to feel safe and welcome again.

And so in the absense of a empathic adults or a community to hold us, we abandon these challenged parts of ourselves. We don’t want to go there again. We don’t want to relive the pain or hurt. And so we close these inner catacombs and walk away.

Our work as adult men is to open those chambers again, to remove whatever blocks us from loving the way we were born to do.

[bctt tweet=”Our work as adult men is to remove whatever blocks us from loving the way we were born to do. ” via=”no”]

Learn to cultivate empathy.

That’s far easier said than done, I know. Much of my adult life has been about rediscovering these catacombs and opening them one by one. That’s not always easy. But the older I get, the more I consider it an adventure to rediscover my natural capacity for empathy.

And cultivating empathy is a vital role as a father.

We have so many other roles, of course. But being empathic with our children–and helping them grow their own capacity for empathy–has a huge impact on their development .

When we’re empathic our children can relax. There’s no reason for them to stress or be on high alert. They don’t have to defend themselves, run, hide, or fight. They feel they belong, that they have a home no matter what arises in them. In this environment, they develop the way nature intends them to.

That’s why cultivating our children’s empathy is a fundamental responsability as dads. We’re empathy farmers, to use a phrase by psychologist Robin Grille.

Our task is to create the best conditions we can to grow our children’s ability to relate to people, nature and all sentient beings.

Every now and then we might lose our cool, yell, throw a menacing look or otherwise frighten our child with our power and authority. We soon sense the muteness of disconnection. And most of us regret it afterwards, and wish we’d done it in a different way.

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When our wounds get in the way.

The hard truth is that sometimes we don’t want our children’s feelings to touch us. We’re too exhausted, on edge, incapacitated or triggered for some reason.

In those moments, empathy hurts us too much. We’d much rather turn away than stay with.

Our child’s behavior sometimes touches on our original hurts, the ones we’ve locked away. Every time our child takes us there, she reminds us of our unresolved pain.

It’s not that we’re insensitive, crude, monstrous or incapable of responding with soft attention and compassionate curiosity. We are all biologically capable of responding with love towards our child or our partner. But sometimes our automatic defensive reactions blocks our hearts.

It’s not that we are mean. We’re wounded.

So instead of facing our child, we evade her. We keep her a good distance from our pressure points. We block out our capacity for empathy and isolate ourselves from our child. And instead of healing ourselves, we pass on our hurts.

Notice how you block your empathy.

When we block our empathic responses, we in effect censor our children’s emotions. To avoid engaging with our child’s feelings, we manipulate, dominate, control, belittle, opress or otherwise block the behavior. And we create a distance in the family.

”Empathy blockers save us the trouble of listening, but they cost us our connection with each other,” says Robin Grille. They frustrate our child, and with time create detachment, distance and mistrust.

These are some examples of empathy blockers from his wonderful book Heart-to-Heart Parenting.

  • Downplaying – Oh, don’t cry. I’m sure it’s not that bad! It’s not the end of the world.
  • Denial – There is nothing wrong; nothing for you to be upset about. Everything is OK.
  • Reasoning – Don’t cry. Can’t you see that the other child didn’t mean to hurt you
  • The positive spin – Look on the bright side. Can’t you see, this probably happened for a good reason?
  • Cheering up – Don’t worry. Here, let me tell you something funny I heard the other day. Here, have an ice cream. That’ll cheer you up.
  • Advising/giving options – Why don’t you try doing this, or that? I think you should just ignore that so-and-so.
  • The expectation – You should have known better. Get over it. Don’t let it get to you.
  • Put down – Don’t be silly. Don’t be ridiculous.
  • Diagnosing/labelling – You are being over-sensitive.
  • Distracting/diverting – Hey, have a look at the pretty puppet.
  • Stealing the thunder – Now you know how I felt when the same thing happened to me.

Listen with your heart.

If you recognize any of these behaviors, chances are you’re human.

And that means you can learn to remove the blocks by owning your reaction and healing your hurts.

This might mean getting some rest, reaching out to a friend a therapist or a coach for support, or finding some space to decompress.

The practice is continuously to develop your ability to listen with genuine interest in your child’s emotional world.

When you do, your child learns that all her feelings are valid. Anger, fear, sadness, shame or joy are all welcome.

“Listening,” says Grille, “is at the heart of connection, and if we can’t listen well, we cease to be an influence in our children’s lives.”

(See here for Miki’s free ebook for depleted dads: ‘7 Steps to a Lot More Energy As a Dad.’)

[irp posts=”1846″ name=”The Single Most Important Skill to Teach Your Child (by Miki Dedijer)”]


About the Author: Miki Dedijer

Miki DedijerMiki Dedijer supports conscious fathers in managing their emotional health and rooting their children in community. Miki hosts The Lodge for Natural Dads, an online gathering of committed dads of young children. You can now reserve your place as a lodge member. Sign up for news about Miki’s workshops, and receive his blogs and updates through his website, naturaldads.com, or join a growing community of dads on Facebook. Miki also offers ‘7 Steps to a Lot More Energy As a Dad.’ a free ebook for depleted dads.

5 Comments

Wendolyn

applies to our election cycle too… many people who feel secure following the election are using these empathy blockers which prevent conversation, healing, or greater understanding from both “sides.” I think many of the protests are cries for others to really listen, really see the emotional realities that the protesters are facing.

Reply
Miki

Hey Wendolyn–I love that you connect empathic parenting and emotion blockers with the recent election in the United States.

Our children are watching, sensing, feeling how us adults are in the world, and how we respond to the world. The energy of the election has rippled through many families (even beyond the United States).

How we respond to the other, how we view and approach our differences, teaches our children a lot about empathy, and our willingness to listen, even if it is painful.

I imagine there are a lot of correlations between how we practice empathy at home, and how it shows up in politics and shapes society.

Robin Grille is really clear that reforms in child-rearing directly affects democratic processes, peace and social stability. He calls this parenting for a peaceful world.

Thank you again for making the connection!

Miki

Reply
Miki

Hey Howard–Glad you liked it. Yes, I agree with you, it is easy to get distracted. That is I believe why First Nations Peoples don’t see themselves as raising children, but reminding children of their original nature again and again, their generosity, their gifts and their love. When we live in a culture that allows us to forget that, we are denatured. Warmest, Miki

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Anxiety is driven by a lack of certainty about safety. It doesn’t mean they aren’t safe, and it certainly doesn’t mean they aren’t capable. It means they don’t feel safe enough - yet. 

The question isn’t, ‘How do we fix them?’ They aren’t broken. 

It’s, ‘How do we fix what’s happening around them to help them feel so they can feel safe enough to be brave enough?’

How can we make the environment feel safer? Sensory accommodations? Relational safety?

Or if the environment is as safe as we can make it, how can we show them that we believe so much in their safety and their capability, that they can rest in that certainty? 

They can feel anxious, and do brave. 

We want them to listen to their anxiety, check things out, but don’t always let their anxiety take the lead.

Sometimes it’s spot on. And sometimes it isn’t. Whole living is about being able to tell the difference. 

As long as they are safe, let them know you believe them, and that you believe IN them. ‘I know this feels big and I know you can handle this. We’ll do this together.’♥️
Research has shown us, without a doubt, that a sense of belonging is one of the most important contributors to wellbeing and success at school. 

Yet for too many children, that sense of belonging is dependent on success and wellbeing. The belonging has to come first, then the rest will follow.

Rather than, ‘What’s wrong with them?’, how might things be different for so many kids if we shift to, ‘What needs to happen to let them know we want them here?’❤️
There is a quiet strength in making space for the duality of being human. It's how we honour the vastness of who we are, and expand who we can be. 

So much of our stuckness, and our children's stuckness, comes from needing to silence the parts of us that don't fit with who we 'should' be. Or from believing that the thought or feeling showing up the loudest is the only truth. 

We believe their anxiety, because their brave is softer - there, but softer.
We believe our 'not enoughness', because our 'everything to everyone all the time' has been stretched to threadbare for a while.
We feel scared so we lose faith in our strength.

One of our loving roles as parents is to show our children how to make space for their own contradictions, not to fight them, or believe the thought or feeling that is showing up the biggest. Honour that thought or feeling, and make space for the 'and'.

Because we can be strong and fragile all at once.
Certain and undone.
Anxious and brave.
Tender and fierce.
Joyful and lonely.
We can love who we are and miss who we were.

When we make space for 'Yes, and ...' we gently hold our contradictions in one hand, and let go of the need to fight them. This is how we make loving space for wholeness, in us and in our children. 

We validate what is real while making space for what is possible.
All feelings are important. What’s also important is the story - the ‘why’ - we put to those feelings. 

When our children are distressed, anxious, in fight or flight, we’ll feel it. We’re meant to. It’s one of the ways we keep them safe. Our brains tell us they’re in danger and our bodies organise to fight for them or flee with them.

When there is an actual threat, this is a perfect response. But when the anxiety is in response to something important, brave, new, hard, that instinct to fight for them or flee with them might not be so helpful.

When you can, take a moment to be clear about the ‘why’. Are they in danger or

Ask, ‘Do I feel like this because they’re in danger, or because they’re doing something hard, brave, new, important?’ 

‘Is this a time for me to keep them safe (fight for them or flee with them) or is this a time for me to help them be brave?’

‘What am I protecting them from -  danger or an opportunity to show them they can do hard things?’

Then make space for ‘and’, ‘I want to protect them AND they are safe.’

‘I want to protect them from anxiety AND anxiety is unavoidable - I can take care of them through it.’

‘This is so hard AND they can do hard things. So can I.’

Sometimes you’ll need to protect them, and sometimes you need to show them how much you believe in them. Anxiety can make it hard to tell the difference, which is why they need us.♥️
The only way through anxiety is straight through the middle. This is because the part of the brain responsible for anxiety - the amygdala - is one of the most primitive parts of the brain, and it only learns through experience.

The goal is for kids to recognise that they can feel anxious and do brave. They don't have to wait for their anxiety to disappear, and they don't need to disappear themselves, or avoid the things that matter to them, in order to feel safe. 

There is always going to be anxiety. Think about the last time you did something brave, or hard, or new, or something that was important to you. How did you feel just before it? Maybe stressed? Nervous? Terrified? Overwhelmed? All of these are different words for the experience of anxiety. Most likely you didn't avoid those things. Most likely, you moved with the anxiety towards those brave, hard, things.

This is what courage feels like. It feels trembly, and uncertain, and small. Courage isn't about outcome. It's about process. It's about handling the discomfort of anxiety enough as we move towards the wanted thing. It's about moving our feet forward while everything inside is trembling. 

To support them through anxiety, Honour the feeling, and make space for the brave. 'I know how big this is for you, and I know you can do this. I'm here for you. We'll do this together.' 

We want our kiddos to know that anxiety doesn't mean there is something wrong with them, or that something bad is about to happen - even though it will feel that way. 

Most often, anxiety is a sign that they are about to do something brave or important. With the amygdala being the ancient little pony that it is, it won't hear us when we tell our kiddos that they can do hard things. We need to show them. 

The 'showing' doesn't have to happen all at once. We can do it little by little - like getting into cold water, one little step at a time, until the amygdala feels safe. 

It doesn't matter how long this takes, or how small the steps are. What matters is that they feel supported and cared for as they take the steps, and that the steps are forward.❤️

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