What to Say When Kids Ask Hard Questions, or When They Know Things Aren’t ‘Right’

When Children Ask Hard Questions

Some days are great days. We want to squeeze every delicious moment out of them and keep them forever somewhere safe and accessible where our loved days and precious things are kept. Some days are terrible. They’re the days we want to fold in half, and then in half again and again and again until those days are too small to hurt us any more. But days are like that aren’t they. For better or worse they will come and they will go. Sometimes the effects of them will stay – the glow, the growth, the joy, the bruises – long after those days have gone.

Our children will also feel the effects of these days. Whether they are our days or theirs, they will feel it when something isn’t right. Children are emotional barometers, and even if they are being protected from the detail of adult worries they will often still feel the tailwhip. When changes or difficult times happen in a family it can be difficult to know what to say to kids, or how much to say, or whether to say anything at all. If there is any chance that children might be picking up on distress in a family, it’s important that we address this with them. If they sense there is ‘something’ going on, and if we keep that ‘something’ unspoken, the risk is that they will feel the heaviness of the situation but without the safe outlet that comes with talking it through with a loving adult. 

Whether that ‘something’ looks like a parent changing or losing a job, health concerns, or families having to cut back on the things they are used to, it’s important to acknowledge the changes that children might be feeling the effects of. The best way to do this is with age-appropriate truth, delivered with strength, warmth, and confidence. ‘Age appropriate’ will depend on what they already know (mum and dad have been fighting a lot, or mum or dad aren’t working at the moment), what is unavoidable (moving to a new home because of a change in finances), and how many questions they ask before they feel safely held by ‘enough information’.

How do I know if they are feeling that something isn’t right? How do I know if they need to talk?

Some children might not ask any questions at all. This doesn’t mean they won’t be feeling the strain. Instead, they might use behaviour, attitude, or words in a roundabout way as unintended signals of distress. Whatever they do, it is an invitation for us to come closer. It won’t always feel like this, but even the biggest behaviour and the coldest of attitudes are a call for support.

The behaviour might look like big, un-adorable behaviour such as tantrums, defiance, or anger. It might also look like clinginess, difficulty sleeping, or doing things which let them escape from the world for a while such as more time with pets, more time on their own or in their rooms. It can also look like more of a need to have everything their own way. If their world starts to feel out of control, it’s understandable that they might try to control what they can. This might look like controlling you, siblings, what the day looks like, what bedtime looks like, what to watch on tv, what to eat for dinner, what shoes you wear – anything that will give them a felt sense of their own power and influence. We all need to know that we can have an influence on the world around us when we need to, and this need might become bigger when their world feels more unpredictable. 

Clues might also come through their words, but not words that directly ask what’s happening. They might ask, ‘Are you okay?’ or, ‘Can you play with me/be with me/stay with me while I fall asleep?’

They might also give you clues in through physical symptoms. When kids are worried or anxious, there will be the physiology of anxiety but it won’t always feel like fear. This might look like sick tummies, sore tummies, trouble sleeping, or headaches.

The antidote to anxiety isn’t ‘nothing to worry about’, it’s trust.

The truth of it all is that the world feels too big sometimes. However brave they are, and however much we reassure them, the world will just feel too big. The things our children worry about will be real for them, and those fears and anxieties need to be respected and acknowledged. This doesn’t mean we agree with their worries. It means we acknowledge that they have them. It also doesn’t mean their fears or anxiety will disappear completely. What it means is that with your strong loving presence, and your belief in their capacity to cope, they will start to feel a little bigger in the presence of those worries. Think of this, not in terms of cutting out their worries, but about adding in – adding in your certainty, the felt sense that they will get through this, and the capacity to rest in your strength.

It can feel as though the only way to strengthen them against their anxiety is to make sure they have nothing to worry about, but when their worries are real this might not happen quickly. Instead, we need to focus on helping them know that even though those worries are there, they will be okay. ‘Not worrying’ isn’t the anticipate to anxiety, trust is. This will start with trust in you and your belief that they will be okay. Eventually, as they grow this will expand into trust in themselves and their own capacity to find their way through challenges to a place of hope and strength. 

Now for the how.

Whether or not they ask directly, when their world feels wobbly children and teens will be looking to their important adults for a felt sense of safety. They need to know the adults in their lives are holding on to them. When they feel this, they will be more able to let go of stress, worry, or anxiety. 

To help them feel a little bigger in the presence of stressful or challenging times, give them as much detail as they need to feel safe, but not so much that it will overwhelm them. If they feel you avoiding or ignoring their questions, that in itself can be enough to make them feel unsafe or insecure about what it all means for them.

There are two things kids and teens will be looking for from us. The first is, ‘Do you see me?’ They need to know that you understand the problem as they see it. This doesn’t mean you agree, just that you understand why they feel the way they do. Validation is the way here. It lets them know, ‘Yes, I see you, I understand you, and I’m with you’. In real terms this might look something like:

  • ‘Yes, I see how worried you are about this,’ or

  • ‘Yes, it’s scary isn’t it,’ or

  • ‘Yes, this has been such a big year for our family. We’ve had some big changes and that can feel confusing or worrying. I really get that,’ or

  • ‘Yes, it feels so unfair that bad things happen sometimes. I wish so much that things could be different. It makes sense that you would feel sad or mad about that. I feel like that too sometimes,’ or

  • ‘Yes, I hear you. Sometimes it can seem as though other people have so much more. It’s understandable that you might feel jealous or sad about that. Everyone feels that way sometimes, even the people who seem to have everything.’

The second thing they will be asking is, ‘Will I be okay?’ They are looking for signs of safety, and the greatest and most comforting signs of safety will come from their important adults. Whatever has happened, and as awful as things might feel right now, the truth is that you will get through, and so will they. It will be tempting to align with the fear and the ‘bigness’ of it all but as much as you can, tap into that part of you that knows you will be okay eventually because you will be. You’re built for this. You’ve always got them through before, and you’ll get them through now. The words might sound something like, 

  • ‘As bad as things might feel, I know with everything in me that we are going to get through this. Whatever happens, we’re going to do this together, and we are going to be okay. We can do hard things – we’ve done plenty before.’

  • ‘Honestly, I don’t know why bad things happen sometimes, but I know that whatever happens, we’re going to be okay. I know that for certain,’ or

  • ‘It’s true that we are going to have less money/presents/treats/holidays this year, but we are going to have enough. It’s okay to feel sad, and whatever you are feeling, I want you to know that we will be okay. Let’s make sure we find other ways to enjoy what we have. I know we’re going to get through this,’ or

  • ‘It can be hard when you see that some people seem to have more than you. It’s okay to feel sad about that. It’s really normal – everyone feels like that sometimes. It’s so easy to focus on what you might be missing, or what you don’t have – I do that too sometimes – but it’s also important to remember what we do have. That might not feel like enough right now – I get that – but sometimes you will be the one with ‘more’, and sometimes others will be. It’s just the way things seem to work. The important thing to remember is that the fact that others have more right now doesn’t change that we have more than enough. There are people who would give anything to have what we have right now. It’s true, it might be different to what you’re used to or what you’d like, but it is enough.

The key part is, ‘And I know we’re going to be okay.’ Even if you are feeling sad, or exhausted, or anxious, the truth is that you will get your family through this and they will be okay. 

It feels like your job is to protect them from pain, but your job is something more important than that. 

As much as you might always feel so driven to protect your children from pain or disappointment, your job is bigger than that. The importance of you is to make sure that they can (eventually) find their own way through pain or disappointment to a place of strength and hope. If our children are going to live wholehearted lives, they are going to come face to face with pain and disappointment sometimes. This is a given. What isn’t a given is that they will be crushed by that. Of course, they will face challenges that might crush them for a while – we all do. When this happens, they might be driven to rest or withdraw from the world for a while while they strengthen and heal. What’s important is that they don’t stay there. The push to rise after the fall will come from knowing that they can eventually reach a place that feels better than where they are, however small or frail that ‘knowing’ might feel at the time.

And finally …

Ultimately pain and disappointment isn’t the end of wholehearted, happy engagement with life and the world, it’s part of it. We don’t get to say how our children will learn to trust their own strength, and their capacity to get through hardship. All we can do is be there with our hearts and arms open to hold them close when those hard days come. Who you are to them will always be more important than what you do. You won’t always be able to stop their storms, but your strong, loving presence and your certainty that they will be okay will soften the effects of those storms enough so that they will feel safe and held until the storm passes. 

2 Comments

Laura

Your posts help me understand myself and my children. I get something out of every post – usually way more than I can digest and I come back to the posts time and time again. Thank you for sharing your wisdom.

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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.
Some days are great days. We want to squeeze every delicious moment out of them and keep them forever somewhere safe and reachable where our loved days and precious things are kept. Then there are days that are truly awful - the days we want to fold in half, and then in half again and again and again until those days are too small to hurt us any more. But days are like that aren’t they. For better or worse they will come and they will go. Sometimes the effects of them will stay – the glow, the growth, the joy, the bruises – long after those days have gone. And despite what I know to be true - that these are the days that will make us braver, stronger, kinder and wiser, sometimes I don’t feel any of that for a while. I just see the stretch marks. But that’s the way life is, isn’t it. It can be hard and beautiful all in sequence and all at once.
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One of the tough things about being human is that to live wholeheartedly means to open ourselves to both - the parts that are plump with happiness, and the parts that hurt. We don’t have to choose which one can stay. They can exist together. Not always in equal measure, and not always enough of the beautiful to make the awful feel tolerable, or to give it permission to be, but they can exist together - love through loss, hope through heartache. The big memory-making times that fatten life to full enough, and the ones that come with breakage or loss. The loss matters and the joy matters. The existence of either doesn't make the other matter any less. 
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What I also know to be true is that eventually, the space taken up by loss or heartache changes space for enough of the beautiful to exist with it. This is when we can start to move with. Sadness still, perhaps, but with hope, with courage, with strength and softness, with openness to what comes next. Because living bravely and wholeheartedly doesn't mean getting over loss or denying the feelings that take our breath away sometimes. It means honouring both, and in time, moving with.♥️

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