The Broken Cup
One of my kids really struggles with stuffing his emotions. He’s not a natural communicator so when difficult things come up he tends to act like everything is fine. The problem is things aren’t always fine. Then, sometimes, months down the road, a much smaller incident will happen and he explodes. He flies into an irrational rage over things like dropping a styrofoam cup and spilling his drink. Or chips going slightly stale (and I do mean slightly — they had only been open for an hour).
We had one of these moments occur as we were packing up to leave the beach the other day. A dropped cup triggered his anger and screaming ensued. As a parent, it would be easy to look at the situation at face-value and think he was throwing a fit over a cup. I could’ve said something like, “It’s just a broken cup. Stop throwing a fit. That’s nothing to cry over.”
But for a child who stuffs emotions it’s never truly about the broken cup.
If I had simply told him his reaction was inappropriate I would be doing him a huge disservice. The message I would be sending him is that he doesn’t know how to cry over the appropriate things. (Which is true, but we can’t just announce to our child that they’re in a pit and then walk away without helping to get them out.) This lack of follow-through would leave anyone feeling dysfunctional — like their gauge for reactions is broken. His response didn’t match what happened, but ending the conversation there would only confirm how defective he felt.
It’s true: A broken cup is nothing to cry over. Yet… there he was crying. So what has happened that DOES warrant tears? Because I guarantee you those tears are for a valid reason. However, they may just be for a reason that happened earlier in the week, month, or even year.
As we drove away from the beach I realized I needed to give him some tools to help get him out of the pit he was in. I was grasping at a way to gain access to this kid who I sometimes struggle to understand. I suddenly remembered the card game Memory. You know — the one where you match up the two cards that are alike? You shuffle the deck, and lay everything face down. If you pick up a card that doesn’t match you have to put it back, face down, and try to remember where it is in case you pick up the mate later in the game. Obviously, matching cards gets a little easier as the choices slim down at the end of the game. But the first couple of rounds are pretty daunting! I felt like this game perfectly sums up how my child feels most days: like the first round of the card game; nothing seems to match. Nothing seems to match.
We played this game when he was younger so I asked him if he remembered the game and then I briefly reminded him how to play. I asked him, “If I were to drop my drink right now which 'card' would match? Would I be bummed out that my cup broke or would I scream and cry over it?” He agreed that I would probably just be a little disappointed. Then we talked about matching our hurt/fear/disappointment/frustration/anger to the severity of an event.
This next question is where things really came into focus. I asked him, “Can you think of something big that’s happened that matches the big feelings you’re having right now?” He thought long and hard. Then he said, “Yes.” He went on to explain to me what had been bothering him. Something that happened before Spring Break. Something big. Something that deeply hurt him. Something he never revealed how much it had affected him until this moment.
I explained to him how his emotions that manifested at the beach were not matching what happened. Those big feelings DID match something… just not a broken cup. I told him what happened before Spring Break deserved his tears. I told him it was ok to cry over the big stuff.
Do I think it’s ok for him to throw a massive fit over broken styrofoam? No. But if he didn’t feel like he could properly emote over the big things, how can I expect him to know how to respond correctly to the small things which happen more frequently? I don’t know why he doesn’t feel permission to emote when big things happen, but I know it’s my job as his parent to guide him to a healthy, safe place where he can sort it all out… and shaming him for having emotions won’t get the job done.
If a child’s reaction does not match the event then don’t put the game away — help them find the mate to that emotion. As a parent, I’m learning to help my child determine if his response matches the incident at hand. Children are not the only ones who struggle with this concept either. As adults, how many times do we snap at an innocent bystander because of the stress swirling in our head?
It should be noted I have no background in psychology. I’m simply a mother desperate to help her son. This is an idea I plan to develop more and I’d love to hear your thoughts on this as well! Do you have a child who struggles with emoting? Do you struggle to identify your own emotions? How do you help your child or yourself through similar situations as the one described in this story?