We are in the midst of a wildly uncomfortable 90-100 degree heatwave that forecasters reported, “feels like 115-120.” Absolutely unbearable. Just walking outside, not even working mind you, I was dripping in sweat. I believe, “sticky” is the adjective used to describe it. For good reason, we try to avoid the “sticky” discomfort of extreme heat by escaping indoors and into air conditioned spaces. No one wants to experience that level of discomfort.
Although no one in their right mind would argue with the avoidance of the insatiable late August Nebraska heatwaves, it got me to thinking, what level of avoidance in other areas of our lives, should we be more inclined NOT to avoid.
I’ve thought extensively about avoidance, particularly anxiety or discomfort avoidance, not only as a therapist, but as a parent. I’m nearly always in a state of reflection about whether or not I’m adequately preparing my children for the big bad uncomfortable world that they will one day have to navigate independently. Am I too harsh? Am I too easy? Am I doing everything that I can do to ensure that they have the skill set to thrive in an often inconsistent and unpredictable world? To date, it seems that my efforts have been focused on creating consistency and predictability, which all seems futile now.
Maybe it’s about balance.
I totally understand that if something makes you anxious or uncomfortable, why wouldn’t you avoid it, right? Mostly right? But not always right? Hmm…
Consistently using avoidance as a method of anxiety reduction can obviously become problematic. Avoidance allows a temporary reprieve from anxiety, but in nearly all cases, the problem still exists and therefore, the discomfort still exists.
So, the question is, how do we find that balance? To what degree do we allow ourselves to avoid and at what point, do we push through the “sticky” discomfort of actually addressing our problem?
This idea has been at the forefront of my parental brain for the last several years. How do we identify that sweet spot of parental balance of when and how to encourage our children to push through the normal but uncomfortable childhood experiences? Or, do we as parents, generationally, continue to assume the anxieties of our children or allow them to avoid, seemingly influencing their ability (or inability) to manage the age appropriate anxieties and discomfort that they should experience?
And…if I’m doing a completely honest parental self-assessment, I have to approach this topic with a “do as I say, not as I do,” mentality because I am 100% guilty of fostering an environment of avoidance with my own children. Case in point, anyone who knows me, knows that I generally make 2-3 different meals for supper each night because of what my children will and won’t eat. They are uncomfortable with foods they don’t like. Sometimes, they use multiple plates, so their food doesn’t touch and last but certainly not least, I cut the crust off of bread. There, I said it and trust me, I know, I’ve created my own picky eating monsters.
So, with this said, how do we not overwhelm, but not underwhelm, because I fully recognize that not allowing our children to experience anxiety isn’t doing them any favors in the long run. As with anything, too few experiences with anxiety leads to an inability to manage it later on in life.
I bring this to our attention, unfortunately, with no intention of providing any answers, but more so, to initiate a conversation. To shed light on a generational pattern that I’ve been made aware of through my own parental experience and through therapeutic conversations with other parents. Why has it become a pattern for us as parents to rescue our children from experiencing the anxiety that we went through as children and that made us the seemingly capable adults that we are today? Or, are we more self-serving than we’d like to admit and does the discomfort of seeing our own children experience anxiety cause us to rescue them?
As my “Boomer” mother bluntly puts it, “you just care more about the experience of your children than I ever did about yours,” and as insensitive as that might sound, to some degree, I think she has a point. How do we care a bit less? Maybe not to the degree of the parental carelessness that I might call my own parents out for, but maybe the pendulum can land a bit more in the middle and not in either extreme of “children should be seen and not heard” but also not the extreme of current generational trends of anxiety and discomfort avoidance and rescuing.
I know that this is a very “sticky” conversation and one that we need to carefully consider, as each of our children has very unique needs. Consider for yourself and your family, how the balancing act of approaching or avoiding anxiety can highly influence your child’s ability to manage “the insatiable heat” that they encounter in the future.
