Listening with Empathy and Love

40 years ago I was a mental mess. I had finished high school and graduated, but had trashed my stellar GPA the last semester. I remember barely keeping it together as I pushed my best friend into the stadium for our graduation ceremony. He had broken his neck our senior year; I had broken my spirit. It was still a special moment, but a painfully bittersweet one.

Thankfully I was only just beginning to talk about how I felt, even if I didn't fully understand what was going on with my mental health. I was over a decade away from the grateful and mindful path I'm still on today, but at least it was a start. Childhood trauma combine continuous self-imposed pressure to succeed in school led to crippling social anxiety and panic attacks for me my last year and a half of high school. Once I could finally talk about it with friends, my family, a caring high school counselor -- it helped, but the damage at the time had been done. Suicidal thoughts crept their way in at times, but I knew in my heart life would be different someday. 

And it is. Us Gen X kids may have been tougher and survivors growing up (at least it makes a great social media meme), but some of us had our share of mental and emotional train wrecks along the way. Now, with Gen Z teens, my wife Amy and I have been riding the parental roller coaster, again, of teen anxiety. Anyone with teens today knows what I'm taking about. 

Depression, anxiety and behavioural disorders are among the leading causes of illness and disability among adolescents. Ugh.

Teen anxiety may be a common crappy rite of passage, but one difference for our kids than for me at that age was earlier self-awareness, more accessible empathy (from within and from others), and the ability to articulate how they feel. Listening to your kids without judgement, and/or without trying to always solve their problems or telling them to toughen up and deal with whatever it is they're dealing with, is super critical. Encouraging hobbies, sports, theater, music, and physical activities can help, too. 

Sure, I grew up riding in the back of pickup trucks with nothing strapping me in (literally and figuratively). I also literally fell out of the back of one of those trucks when I was 16. Good times. 

Our kids will go through what they go through, have their own bittersweet journeys just like we did. But there should never be any stigma in listening with empathy and love and giving them the resources and support they need to learn how to adapt and thrive in life. And parents need a lot of that empathy and love, too. 

That Safe Space

They were not looking forward to it, their first day back to school. That's not unusual for any teen pre- or post-covid, although there's been more collective angst since. Social anxiety, peer pressure, success stress, homework, and more are all pile-ons for teens, and our youngest Bryce is now an 8th grader and our oldest Beatrice a sophomore in high school. 

It was an internal emotional hurricane for both our kids those first two days of school, but then came the eye of the storm in the first full week of school, and both settled in nicely. Ultimately they both do enjoy learning, and seeing their friends, and getting back into the atmospheric rivers of adolescent rhythms, always with storm-fronts in view. They got themselves organized, though, and are ready to go. Plus, we're super happy they're back in school!

Bryce attended a marine science camp and took guitar lessons over the summer and is ready to get back into choir and theater again. Beatrice had her first paid job as a camp counselor over the summer and volunteered as what's called Link Leader, sophomore, junior, and senior students willing to help incoming freshmen get acclimated to the big high school sea change prior to day one. She's also going to try out theater this fall for the high school production. 

Oh my goodness, they're both about to have birthdays, too! Bryce will turn 14 and Beatrice 16. Mercy me, the time does fly as we were told from the very beginning of this parenting journey. I told my wife Amy on our hike today that, while it does go fast, we are so grateful to have been mindfully present for most of the moments our children have spent on this earth since birth. Entrenched in our hearts and minds have been the moments of every physical action and reaction, and every multi-faceted emotional interaction. Some have more loving clarity than others, and there are those we would prefer not to recall, but we are grateful for them all.

Sigh. Lots more moments to come to be present for, and now they're back to school again, amen. And the homework, especially in high school, is already piling on, just like all the social anxiety, peer pressure, success stress, and more in teenage-land today. As parents, we do our best to help them balance all these stressors, but we can't do it for them, or go through it for them, no matter how much our empathy magnets polarize to pull them in to calm them, keep them safe, and to tell them everything's going to be okay. 

All we can do is give them the growing up strategies and tactics that we learned to adopt and implement over time. Some of that came from our own parents, but in the end we had to go through it all to make mistakes, learn, grow, and ultimately thrive. Just like our teens will have to do today, and the next day, and the next. As my mom always told me, you have to go through it, not around it. As parents, we can be that safe space for them when then do.

Listen More Mindfully

I felt bad. I did. It's something I've worked on for years but still fall prey to. I waited for a pause in her dialogue to apologize. At least, I thought it was a pause.

"Beatrice, I'm really sorry," I said. Sincerely, too.

All three of them laughed -- both daughters, Beatrice and Bryce, and my wife, Amy.

"Dad, you did it again!" Beatrice exclaimed. "You interrupted me again while I was talking! You always do that!"

"Dad, she wasn't done talking," Bryce said. "And why do you always ask so many questions?"

And then I felt even worse. True, I ask both kids a lot of questions about their day and how they're feeling, but they also weren't wrong about me interrupting. Bea certainly wasn't wrong. Right before I apologized to her she expressed how much she didn't appreciate it when I interrupted her. I was proud of her for letting me know who she felt, and at the same time, momentarily devastated that I actually did that to her. 

My own perception is that I believe I wait until a natural pause occurs before adding my 2 cents worth in a conversation, or ask my kids questions. I'm a humble expressive, but I do like to share my thoughts on whatever the topic at hand is, or again, ask my kids clarifying questions. It's not the first time I've been told this over the years and I have to admit I've been an equal-opportunity interrupter for whomever I'm in a room with. 

I wouldn't call them microaggressions, though, because I don't believe I'm intentionally slighting anyone, especially my own family. I've been in the room with enough literal microaggressors over the years to know the difference and have been a staunch advocate for those who experience it.

But when I do interrupt, am I really listening? Or am I unconsciously disregarding what someone is saying to me (or others in a room) just so I can express my thoughts as if mine have more value? God, I hope not, but I'm also afraid so, sometimes anyway. Maybe it's due to a lifetime of overcompensating for growing up feeling inadequate and that my own thoughts weren't worthy to express. Maybe. Still, it's not something I'm proud of, especially when I hear it from my own daughter. Again, I'm proud of Beatrice for her awareness and clarity. Bryce has the same sensibilities. 

Which I wish I had more of when I was their age (even though they are still very "expressive" teens with all that teens bring, but still). I have worked on listening more and interjecting less over the years. When I'm truly mindful of it, I clear my mind and simply listen to the person or persons talking to me or to others. I listen with purpose and only respond if and when appropriate and it only adds value. 

I'll continue to work on not interrupting, but I won't stop asking our kids questions about their lives. I am still Dad, for goodness sake, so I'll just have to listen more mindfully along the way. 

Their Daily Melodies

I remember holding our daughters after they were born. And every time I held them after that, I was in awe of their breathing, and then eventually their babbling. Listening to them was like a daily mindful meditation. Their peaceful sleep with eyes shut tight and their alert awareness with eyes wide open. These tiny creatures were completely dependent on us to keep them safe and alive. I held them and loved them more than I ever could've imagined. 

Because for many years prior to that, I never imagined holding my own babies. Neither did my wife Amy. We just didn't want to have children. After we each grew up in our own unstable environments, bringing a child into the world just wasn't something we wanted to do. We just wanted to enjoy our lives together and see the world. 

I had crappy father role models, too. An abusive birth father who berated and beat my mother. An abusive first stepfather who terrorized my mother and sister and sexually assaulted me. But even when we found the father we never had in our second stepfather, the one who's name we took, the one who loved and cared for us as his own, it wasn't enough to convince me that I could do the same someday. Or, would want to do the same someday.

One of the many things my dad (second stepfather) instilled in me was listening. Just listening. Without judgment. And sometimes without even talking, because listening was more than verbal. This was especially important during our teenage years, which were the years shortly after our mom and him had gotten together and married. As teens, we didn't think anyone was listening, especially our parents, but Dad listened well. He still was dad, though, and every single time I'd lock my keys in my car as a teenager, which I did a lot, he'd shake his head and say, "Oh, son." And then curse a little and explain to me how and why I should better manage my keys.

When my mom couldn't help herself being reactive and judgmental about a situation, my dad usually could do the opposite. He would listen and was very thoughtful and measured in his response to whatever the situation was. What I didn't realize until over two decades later was how much his listening impacted me. 

Amy and I eventually changed our minds about having children and we're so grateful we did. Back then, we'd been listening to each other without really talking literally about having kids. Like my dad taught me, both verbal and non-verbal listening are key to quality committed relationships -- from spouses to children to friends to any relationship. Holding our newborns and then watching them grow and thrive as children and now to being practically teens has flown by, but we've also celebrated and lived within every moment, which slows time dramatically. 

We actually control life's tempo more than we think we do. It's like me finally learning how to play the drums. It's not just speed or complexity of the literal sequenced beats on the snare, toms, high-hat, and symbols that are important, it's also the empty spaces in between the beats, the rests that connect all the notes. Combined, these music measures are what tell the entire story. If you're listening that is. Our now practically teens may not think we're always listening to them, but we are, and listening to their daily melodies resonates with our deepest love. 

Thank you, Dad. And to grateful "listening" fathers everywhere, Happy Father's Day.