I offered a free workshop recently on setting limits without using shame or punishment, and as usual, the questions were my favorite part.
We have so many experiences as parents that challenge whatever textbook parenting advice we’ve received along the way.
Examples include:
“OK, I get that it’s a good idea to set a warm limit! But what do I do when I don't FEEL warm?”
“What do I do if agree with this approach in theory, but then when the sh*t hits the fan, I default back to threats and bribes?
“You’ve suggested that I bring connection when my kids are off track, but doesn’t that just send the message that my kid can act like a jerk and I’ll be nice to them?”
I love this last question in particular because so many of us have this fear.
We see adults around us (and ahem, politicians) who act like it’s fine to behave terribly to other people without consequence. Like the world owes it to them.
We’re so afraid of accidentally raising a kid who thinks and acts like that.
The Messages We Send
If you have this fear, I’m here to share the good news with you.
You can’t spoil your kid with warm attention and warm limits.
And entitled grown ups were not kids who had warm attention and limits when they went off track.
In fact, I would argue that the adults we see out there that seem entitled and jerky got precious little warmth as children.
My guess is that they got shame, punishment, and harshness when they went off track. That they got zero repair when their parents went off track. And that they had to fend for themselves when things went poorly.
These responses to children whose brains are developing and growing force children to adapt in painful ways. They teach them:
I’m alone in this.
You can see how, as they grow, that might turn into: “I might as well take what I can get, because no one and nothing is coming for me otherwise. In fact, things might be taken from me if I don’t hold on tight.”
I’m a bad person.
This one can become, “why bother staying open to the pain of others? I have no idea how that feels since no one did that for me. And anyway, it hurts too much.”
Or
“It feels so terrible to not feel my own goodness that I have to do everything in my power to prove to the world that I’m better than everyone.”
I’m not safe.
This one can sound like, “I take and take and take and take from the world in the hopes that I can feel some little bit of safety. It doesn’t work, but I keep trying. I go back and forth between thinking, ‘save me!’ and ‘fuck everyone else.’”
Oof, it feels painful just to write this.
In contrast, here’s how it can sound when we do come forward with warmth when our kids go off track. When we do offer our attention and connection when our kids call for us—even when their way of signaling looks like meanness, unkindness, and aggression.
Help is available when I need it.
The inner dialogue of this child in adulthood might sound like, “I’m having a hard time, but I am certain that warmth and support will help me come back to myself. Let me see where I might find some.”
I’m intrinsically good.
“This difficult situation isn’t happening because I’m bad. Life has ups and downs, but my goodness isn’t in question. The same goes for others. I can forgive and I can give—to myself and to others.”
I’m safe.
“Since I don’t have to prove to myself that I’m safe, I have so much more to offer. I’m more relaxed with those I love and more available to the world to give what is mine to give.”
Which set of messages would you rather feel? Which would you like to give to your children?
But I Turned Out Ok…
Many of us—myself included!—grew up in families where we received harshness or punishment when we went off track. Where we felt alone or bad inside when we were less-than perfect in our parents’ eyes.
Most of us who had parents who loved us greatly—just as we love our children. But they got the same messages (and likely even more strongly) as we get: that kids need to be taught to be kind. That we must come down hard on them when they stumble, otherwise they will grow up rotten.
And yet somehow, we found ways to retain our kindness to others, to be loving people and parents, and to be contributing members of society.
It can be quick work to connect the two: that we became kind and loving adults because we were “held to account.”
But I would ask you to consider what happens to you inside when things go poorly for you, perhaps at work, with a friend, or with a partner.
What do you say to yourself first?
I know my inner voice isn’t what I would like it to be, even with many years of work and wonderful support to improve it.
Sometimes my first thoughts are things like:
Good job screwing things up yet again, Caroline.
Look! Further proof that you are not good enough.
Probably safer just to retreat and get angry.
It takes work and many tools for me to claw my way back to the deeper truth.
What if it Could Be Different?
What if our kids didn’t have to fight against these unhelpful messages every time things got hard?
What if they didn’t need years of therapy, listening partnerships, and spiritual seeking to find a glimmer of their own connectedness to others, their own goodness, and their safety?
When I imagine what our world would look like, sound like, and feel like if more children—and one day adults—knew their own safety, connectedness, and goodness, I am overwhelmed with the beauty of that possibility.
We’d have healthier families. Healthier schools, and workplaces. Likely a healthier government.
If every human knew and held onto not just their own goodness but the goodness of their fellow humans, we’d have a different world.
Our kids were born good. They know how to love, and how to be kind. They want things to go well, and they want to do well.
What they need when they go off track is help remembering all of that. And reminding kids of that by coming to them with warmth—and yes, warm limits—doesn’t reward bad behavior at all.
It says “uh oh! You've somehow jumped the track where you remember our connection, your love, and your kindness. Let me help you come back there.”
That’s not a reward. That’s a deep offering of love.
