On Crying & Conditioning
The conditioning starts young indeed! Maybe even in the womb? Through our genes?
I came across this image on Facebook, which I thought was a great example of one of the many books and songs where children are rewarded for not crying. Instead the repression—the not crying—is rewarded, praised, cookies are given, etc.
Now that I've witnessed that tears and tantrums are imperative for our bodies to release stress and tension in order to remain relaxed and well, I am now quite conscious of anything that says otherwise!
The message of repressing one’s feelings, so prevalent in our culture, is detrimental to the health and well-being not only of the individual, but our society as a whole.
I almost start to feel a panic inside myself when I notice this message in songs, books, movies, our education system, like it’s something too entrenched in our culture, and there is no way that I’ll be able to believe or model this differently for Ori, or create a different narrative.
Then, I take a step back. And breathe. And remind myself that I’m just doing the best I can. I have my share of de-conditioning to do.
I remind myself that it’s OK to believe in a new narrative, and then doubt it, and then believe again.
When I’m out with Ori, I've had strangers tell me that boys shouldn't cry, be “shy” or that “only girls can be shy”. I am sometimes taken aback, and even huffy, when these comments arrive simply when Ori hides his face behind my legs, or is in no mood to be social. I realise this comes from intergenerational conditioning, which affects us all, but sometimes these comments still fill me with frustration at how prevalent this is in our culture. I think the frustration arises mainly because I see the repression of feelings (as well-intentioned as it may be) foster dis-ease in our bodies, minds and our relationship with life.
I want Ori to always be connected to his feelings with confidence, whatever they may be. If he feels like hiding, he doesn’t want to say hi, he doesn’t trust this new person—that’s OK. I want him to always trust his feelings, celebrate his sensitivity, and not feel like he has to be any certain way.
I now handle these situations with friendliness by saying, “He just doesn’t feel like saying hello right now.” Or I say to Ori directly, “It’s OK for you to not say hi. It’s OK to feel this way.”
When our children cry or are upset, there is a tendency to think we have somehow failed them—we have failed as parents. Sometimes I feel these feelings of failure, too, and it’s been a work in progress for me: I remind myself to focus on the awareness of when these feelings arise in the face of Ori’s big feelings, and also practicing connecting to, acknowledging and expressing my big feelings, too.
Feeling is not only healing, it is part of life. Sometimes feeling is awesome. Sometimes feeling is hard. There are many aspects of current culture that seek to escape this. But, as Glennon Doyle so eloquently states, we CAN feel. WE CAN DO HARD THINGS. It makes us better in so many ways—kinder, more resilient and healthier in body and mind.
Much love,
Lia