Unconditional Positive Regard

When I was around 12 years old, I flipped my bike trying to navigate a rocky narrow trail through the woods on my way to buy some grape gum from a nearby store. I crash landed in a thorn bush right on top of a wasp's nest. I guess you could say it wasn't a good day.

This all could've been avoided had I listened to my mother, who told me that very day - actually only minutes before the incident - not to take my bike on the trail and not to go to the store. Of course I knew best, being almost a teenager and all...and the result of my noncompliance was over 20 stings combined with multiple cuts and bruises.

What happened when I got home? How much trouble did I get into? You would think that I definitely deserved to be punished, especially because I blatantly disregarded both directives, but I didn't. Instead, my mother cleaned all my abrasions and stings and treated them with antibiotic ointment, removed several thorns and then made me pancakes. While eating the pancakes I asked her;

"Aren't you going to yell at me or something?"

To which she answered. "No."

"Why not?" I asked. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. I kept waiting, but nothing happened. She looked at me carefully and said. "The reason for a punishment is to get you to learn something. I think you learned today that there was a reason for my rules. I doubt you will ever do that again and the last thing you need right now, feeling as bad as you do, is for me to say "I told you so"."

She was right. I'd already punished myself worse than she would have. I learned that she had reasons behind her rules and that they weren't just designed to control me or to prevent me from having fun. I also felt that she had enough confidence in me so that in the end, I'd have the ability to learn from my mistakes. I felt sore, embarrassed, and guilty...but I also felt empowered. She trusted me, even though I didn't feel very trustworthy at the moment. I never forgot the incident, but what's clearest in my memory is not the pain of the cuts and stings, but the lessons I learned from it.

That's the kind of mother I've tried to be. It's the kind of teacher I strive to be. One who inspires confidence, tries to teach accountability, and focuses on what the famous Humanist Psychologist Carl Rogers called unconditional positive regard - acceptance of a person without negative judgment of their self worth. It's hard at times, and I find that sometimes I want to tell my children "I told you so!" when I've asked them to do something numerous times and they didn't listen to me. I want to remind my students of due dates on a daily basis, up until the actual date the paper is due...but I stop myself. At some point learning only takes place when it's internalized. In order to get there - sometimes you have to make a few mistakes. Knowing someone cares about you anyway is important at those times. It's important at all times.

Hold on tight to those people in your life who show you unconditional regard - they are precious. When they're gone - they're irreplaceable. Tomorrow it will be seven years since I sat next to her, held her hand and watched her go away to a place where hopefully everyone is treated with unconditional positive regard. I know she deserves it.

The Lies of Childhood

There comes a time in every child's life when they learn that much of what we've been telling them is a lie. There are indeed monsters everywhere, and they're not all fuzzy and blue and like cookies. They're not misunderstood green ogres, waiting to be drawn out by a talking donkey who will help the world see that they were wrong...that ogres are nice after all.

We want them to run, ride bikes, play outside with their friends - yet even though the sun is shining and everyone is laughing, it's there. It's always there.

Where are these monsters? Everywhere. What do they look like? Us.

What is the correct balance between teaching them to recognize danger and creating a life for them based on suspicion? I've been told that I'm overprotective, almost irrational. I watch the news too much. I don't allow my daughter to walk home from the bus, or even down the block to visit a friend. I've made her nervous and fearful. I've taken some of the joy out of her childhood and replaced it with terror.

The sun is shining. There's sidewalks, tree lined streets, people walking their dogs. My neighborhood is quite idyllic. So when do I allow her to walk alone a few blocks in a lovely village, When she's older? All of her friends are already allowed. When she's a teenager? That time came, and passed.

So I let up. I let her walk two blocks to a friend's house.

And it didn't matter. The monsters drive. They follow you and ask you to help them find their lost puppy. She handled the situation well - just like we've always told her to. But now she's even more afraid...and so am I. When will it be okay? Will it ever be? What's going to happen when she's in college and I'm not a few minutes away? Will it be okay when she's grown?

There's a line from the book Beloved by Toni Morrison that seems to partially answer my question. "Grown don't mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown? What's that suppose to mean? In my heart it don't mean a thing."

When will it be okay? My heart says never, but my head says someday - because it will have to be. When will I be at peace with her going off places on her own?

For that answer I'm listening to my heart.

Mother's Day

With Mother's Day approaching my emotions run the gamut - from the feeling of awe that I have for the opportunity I was given to be a Mom myself - to a sense of sadness that my own Mom can't be here to celebrate the day with me - to the gratitude I feel for having such a wonderful mother-in-law who treats me like she would her own daughter. I receive newsletters from Chicken Soup for the Soul since I've written stories for several of their books throughout the years, and this morning I received one for Chicken Soup for the Soul; Like Mother Like Daughter - Our 101 Best Stories. I'm honored that they included the story I wrote about my own mother that first appeared in Chicken Soup for the Mother's Soul 2 several years ago, but also felt that familiar pang of pain that I've grown accustomed to since she passed away in 2003. Then it hit me...people all over the world will read about my mother - perhaps on Mother's Day or in the weeks following, and will hopefully be touched by her amazing courage and ability to preserve a sense of normality for a 9 year old girl, even at a time when her own life was in question.

What readers won't know, however, is that she herself lost her mother at around the same age I was in the story - and that her need to protect me from the realities of her illness stemmed from her first-hand knowledge of living through a similar situation herself. I was the lucky one - because she survived and lived to see her grandchildren, which was something we were told would never be possible. I completed Tales from a Dog Catcher and started the process of querying agents and publishers due in part to one of the last things she ever said to me. A request to finish my own book so she could "hold it in her hands". We ran out of time.

So, if you pick up a copy of this book for your Mom or your wife or for someone who loved you like they were your own mother - look for the story "Growing Up". I can't recall what page it's on - but I think you'll enjoy it.

Happy Mother's Day to everyone a bit early - for those Moms who are here with us, and for those who live on in our hearts.