What Not to Say & When Not to Say It

When there’s a crisis, there are a set of rules that could fill a small library – a small, complex library with plenty of hidden shelves for the rules whose existence you have no idea about, until they are broken.

There’s a brilliant theory that deals with the unwritten rules around responding to people in a crisis. It’s one of those life tools that makes you grateful you were in the right place when it came your way – which I was, and which you now are now, if you want to be …

The theory is the brainchild of Susan Silk and it came about as a result of the way people responded during her own crisis. After surgery for breast cancer a colleague wanted to visit her. When Susan mentioned she wasn’t up to visitors, her colleague’s response was ‘This isn’t just about you.’

Perhaps right now, as I am, you are taking a sharp breath in. True, this response is ‘out there’ but there are plenty of subtle and not so subtle versions of the very same thing – people drawing on those more affected by a crisis than they are for support or a sound-off. One that happens far too much is the parent who leans on the child after a divorce or separation.

As Susan Silk explains, her theory – the Ring Theory – ‘… works for all kinds of crises: medical, legal, financial, romantic, even existential.’  Here’s how it works.

  1. First, draw a circle. This is the centre ring and in this circle is the person at the centre of the crisis (let’s call them the ‘centre-person‘). They can say anything they want – cry, complain, fall apart, lean on or break down – to whoever they want.
  2. Next, draw a circle around the centre ring, and another circle around that one and so on until you have a number of concentric circles, like a target. 
  3. Everyone in the centre-person’s life is then placed in one of the circles around the centre circle, depending on how close they are to the crisis. Those who are are closer to the centre-person will be in one of the circles closer to the centre ring. Less intimate relationships will be in the outside bigger circles. So in the next circle to the centre-person are the next most affected people and so on. 

There are no boundaries on what anyone can say. Just who they can say it to.

To use the separation example, the children have no control over the decision or the outcome and they will have trouble understanding their broken hearts and the changes happening at light speed around them. They are affected the most, so they are placed in the centre circle. In the circle around them are the parents. Next, maybe grandparents, or children who live with another parent. Next, maybe friends or siblings of the parents. You get the idea. 

In this instance – and remember it’s just an example – the parents must never look to the children for support, but they can look to the grandparents, siblings or friends – anyone in a circle that’s bigger than their own. The grandparents in this example must never look to the centre children or the parents for support but they can go to other siblings or friends. 

Everyone in the circles can say what they want to, whenever they want to, but only to people in the larger circles – never to people in the circles closer to the centre-person than theirs.

When speaking to anyone in a smaller circle, the goal is to comfort, love and support – whatever is needed. It’s important not to look to them for support though. They’re busy supporting themselves and those in the smaller circles to them. Don’t say anything even in the same land mass as ‘I’m really struggling with this,’ or ‘I’m just crying myself to sleep over this,’ or ‘This is really upsetting to me.’ Just. No. 

Also best not to give advice unless it’s asked for. Though the advice may be well-intended, people in a crisis don’t need to hear what they ‘should’ do. They’ll be having enough trouble doing very much at all until the crisis starts to clear. Until that point, let them know it’s fine if all they do for the time being is breathe.

If, when supporting someone through a crisis, you want to cry, scream, talk about the unfairness of it all or the awful things it’s dragged up for you, that’s absolutely fine and completely normal and healthy. Just do it to someone in a larger circle than yours.

The idea is a simple one – ‘Comfort in, Dump out’.

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When things feel hard or the world feels big, children will be looking to their important adults for signs of safety. They will be asking, ‘Do you think I'm safe?' 'Do you think I can do this?' With everything in us, we have to send the message, ‘Yes! Yes love, this is hard and you are safe. You can do hard things.'

Even if we believe they are up to the challenge, it can be difficult to communicate this with absolute confidence. We love them, and when they're distressed, we're going to feel it. Inadvertently, we can align with their fear and send signals of danger, especially through nonverbals. 

What they need is for us to align with their 'brave' - that part of them that wants to do hard things and has the courage to do them. It might be small but it will be there. Like a muscle, courage strengthens with use - little by little, but the potential is always there.

First, let them feel you inside their world, not outside of it. This lets their anxious brain know that support is here - that you see what they see and you get it. This happens through validation. It doesn't mean you agree. It means that you see what they see, and feel what they feel. Meet the intensity of their emotion, so they can feel you with them. It can come off as insincere if your nonverbals are overly calm in the face of their distress. (Think a zen-like low, monotone voice and neutral face - both can be read as threat by an anxious brain). Try:

'This is big for you isn't it!' 
'It's awful having to do things you haven't done before. What you are feeling makes so much sense. I'd feel the same!

Once they really feel you there with them, then they can trust what comes next, which is your felt belief that they will be safe, and that they can do hard things. 

Even if things don't go to plan, you know they will cope. This can be hard, especially because it is so easy to 'catch' their anxiety. When it feels like anxiety is drawing you both in, take a moment, breathe, and ask, 'Do I believe in them, or their anxiety?' Let your answer guide you, because you know your young one was built for big, beautiful things. It's in them. Anxiety is part of their move towards brave, not the end of it.
Sometimes we all just need space to talk to someone who will listen without giving advice, or problem solving, or lecturing. Someone who will let us talk, and who can handle our experiences and words and feelings without having to smooth out the wrinkles or tidy the frayed edges. 

Our kids need this too, but as their important adults, it can be hard to hush without needing to fix things, or gather up their experience and bundle it into a learning that will grow them. We do this because we love them, but it can also mean that they choose not to let us in for the wrong reasons. 

We can’t help them if we don’t know what’s happening in their world, and entry will be on their terms - even more as they get older. As they grow, they won’t trust us with the big things if we don’t give them the opportunity to learn that we can handle the little things (which might feel seismic to them). They won’t let us in to their world unless we make it safe for them to.

When my own kids were small, we had a rule that when I picked them up from school they could tell me anything, and when we drove into the driveway, the conversation would be finished if they wanted it to be. They only put this rule into play a few times, but it was enough for them to learn that it was safe to talk about anything, and for me to hear what was happening in that part of their world that happened without me. My gosh though, there were times that the end of the conversation would be jarring and breathtaking and so unfinished for me, but every time they would come back when they were ready and we would finish the chat. As it turned out, I had to trust them as much as I wanted them to trust me. But that’s how parenting is really isn’t it.

Of course there will always be lessons in their experiences we will want to hear straight up, but we also need them to learn that we are safe to come to.  We need them to know that there isn’t anything about them or their life we can’t handle, and when the world feels hard or uncertain, it’s safe here. By building safety, we build our connection and influence. It’s just how it seems to work.♥️
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#parenting #parenthood #mindfulparenting
Words can be hard sometimes. The right words can be orbital and unconquerable and hard to grab hold of. Feelings though - they’ll always make themselves known, with or without the ‘why’. 

Kids and teens are no different to the rest of us. Their feelings can feel bigger than words - unfathomable and messy and too much to be lassoed into language. If we tap into our own experience, we can sometimes (not all the time) get an idea of what they might need. 

It’s completely understandable that new things or hard things (such as going back to school) might drive thoughts of falls and fails and missteps. When this happens, it’s not so much the hard thing or the new thing that drives avoidance, but thoughts of failing or not being good enough. The more meaningful the ‘thing’ is, the more this is likely to happen. If you can look behind the words, and through to the intention - to avoid failure more than the new or difficult experience, it can be easier to give them what they need. 

Often, ‘I can’t’ means, ‘What if I can’t?’ or, ‘Do you think I can?’, or, ‘Will you still think I’m brave, strong, and capable of I fail?’ They need to know that the outcome won’t make any difference at all to how much you adore them, and how capable and exceptional you think they are. By focusing on process, (the courage to give it a go), we clear the runway so they can feel safer to crawl, then walk, then run, then fly. 

It takes time to reach full flight in anything, but in the meantime the stumbling can make even the strongest of hearts feel vulnerable. The more we focus on process over outcome (their courage to try over the result), and who they are over what they do (their courage, tenacity, curiosity over the outcome), the safer they will feel to try new things or hard things. We know they can do hard things, and the beauty and expansion comes first in the willingness to try. 
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#parenting #mindfulparenting #positiveparenting #mindfulparent
Never in the history of forever has there been such a  lavish opportunity for a year to be better than the last. Not to be grabby, but you know what I’d love this year? Less opportunities that come in the name of ‘resilience’. I’m ready for joy, or adventure, or connection, or gratitude, or courage - anything else but resilience really. Opportunities for resilience have a place, but 2020 has been relentless with its servings, and it’s time for an out breath. Here’s hoping 2021 will be a year that wraps its loving arms around us. I’m ready for that. x
The holidays are a wonderland of everything that can lead to hyped up, exhausted, cranky, excited, happy kids (and adults). Sometimes they’ll cycle through all of these within ten minutes. Sugar will constantly pry their little mouths wide open and jump inside, routines will laugh at you from a distance, there will be gatherings and parties, and everything will feel a little bit different to usual. And a bit like magic. 

Know that whatever happens, it’s all part of what the holidays are meant to look like. They aren’t meant to be pristine and orderly and exactly as planned. They were never meant to be that. Christmas is about people, your favourite ones, not tasks. If focusing on the people means some of the tasks fall down, let that be okay, because that’s what Christmas is. It’s about you and your people. It’s not about proving your parenting stamina, or that you’ve raised perfectly well-behaved humans, or that your family can polish up like the catalog ones any day of the week, or that you can create restaurant quality meals and decorate the table like you were born doing it. Christmas is messy and ridiculous and exhausting and there will be plenty of frayed edges. And plenty of magic. The magic will happen the way it always happens. Not with the decorations or the trimmings or the food or the polish, but by being with the ones you love, and the ones who love you right back.

When it all starts to feel too important, too necessary and too ‘un-let-go-able’, be guided by the bigger truth, which is that more than anything, you will all remember how you all felt – as in how happy they felt, how loved they felt were, how noticed they felt. They won’t care about the instagram-worthy meals on the table, the cleanliness of the floors, how many relatives they visited, or how impressed other grown-ups were with their clean faces and darling smiles. It’s easy to forget sometimes, that what matters most at Christmas isn’t the tasks, but the people – the ones who would give up pretty much anything just to have the day with you.

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