Listening For Change

“Listen. People start to heal the moment they feel heard.”

—Cheryl Richardson

Listening. It is one of my favorite meditative practices. I can sit outside for hours listening with a smile to the vibrant, and sometimes vitriolic, communication of the birds of my neighborhood. I cherish quiet moments sitting with closed eyes and open ears, waiting for the wind to speak through the voices of the leaves. I delight in the distant hum of aircraft, and the crescendo and decrescendo of vehicles moving down my street. In the autumn evenings I bask in the serenade of the snowy tree cricket, and the occasional plaintiff howl of my cat, begging for another treat. Sound seems to calm my nervous system in a magical way. I can tune out the internal chatter for a brief spell, and simply melt into the symphony of the world…the world outside of my ever busy mind.

Listening is also part of my job. I can sit for hours in a quiet room with a person who comes to be heard. I only speak in order to offer a hand to help others step forward into a new thought or a new direction. Listening not only to words, but to body language, tilts of the head, gestures of the hands. This listening creates a rich and powerful melody that has the potential to transform the audience.

But there is one place where I have found it consistently hard to listen well. And that is with the humans that have been birthed from my very own body. I have found that instead of hearing them fully, I am so certain of where I want them to end up that I have the destination in mind every time we start out on a conversational journey. I want them to be hard working, but instead of listening to the work they have done, I point out the work left to complete. I want them to be motivated, but instead of hearing about the 3D printer they want to build themselves, I ask about the resume they were supposed to be working on. I want them to be empathic, so I admonish them to be kind. Sometimes without first modeling the kindness I expect.  

The first time I truly realized that this approach was less than effective was when my daughter was in 7^th grade. She repeatedly came home from school with a chip on her shoulder. She was angry about a “mean girl” who would leave her out, and then invite her in only to call her “annoying.” She desperately wanted to be a part of this girl’s friend group, while she also “never ever” wanted to see her again. But what she really wanted more than anything was for me to simply listen to her.

Instead, I tried to “reason” with her. I told her that she was the “bigger person” and that she could maintain an attitude of “kindness and respect” and practice the Biblical principal of “love your enemies” with a holy spirit of peace.

She stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door.

When that happens, it’s easy to simply say, “Oh, teenagers. They’ll grow out of it and eventually learn to appreciate my great and overwhelming wisdom.” But for some reason, in my time of prayer and solitude that day, I was listening again and something moved in my spirit. It was the phrase. “You don’t learn empathy by being told to be empathic, you learn empathy by experiencing empathy.”

I hadn’t listened to Rachel. I had tried to teach her. I would never do that to the birds in the back yard. I would never attempt it with my cat. On the occasions when I attempted to do it with my clients, I often encountered what we therapists like to call, “resistance.”

So the next day when she came home with her cranky face, I tried again.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“You don’t want to hear.”

“Maybe I can listen better today.”

She shared another story of grievance and aggravation, and who knows why, but I started thinking of my little friend Anne, the one with the “e” from Green Gables. And I said, “You know what, if we lived back in Anne’s day, we could take her braids and dip it in an ink pot.” That got a small smile, and she floated back, “Or maybe tie her shoelaces around the desk leg.”

We bantered back and forth, and I told her I was so sorry that she was facing this every day. That it was a lot to enter into the psychological realities of 13-year-old girl drama and that she was brave every day. She then paused and looked at me, and I saw the little empath underneath the irritated façade.

“Mom, I think her parents are getting a divorce. I wonder if that’s why she’s having such a hard time being nice. She’s been nice before.”

And there it was. Empathy birthed from empathy. What was there all along, but covered under the pain of repeated injury. By listening, attempting first to understand rather than to reason, I had opened up her ability to consider other view points, to imagine other possibilities.

In my work, this empathic connection serves as a way to help a client, or a child, move back into their resilient zone, which is a place where they have more access to the strategic, organizational, and empathic parts of their brain–the “prefrontal cortex.” Trying to reason with anyone who is in a fight or flight response is like trying to reason with a momma bear who has been separated from her cubs. Yet we do this all of the time with our children.

During COVID-19 all of us are likely to be in a slow simmer of this heightened nervous system activation. We may have what people are calling “brain fog” because our brains are constantly, even if out of our conscious awareness, trying to make sense of an unseen threat. We may “reasonably” know that we are “safe at home,” but the threat detector of our brain (the amygdala), is sending out constant fire alarm warnings, letting our body know that wearing gloves and face masks and canceling all group events is most definitely not normal, and we should be prepared for the monster that is looming around the next corner.

Because of this you are likely seeing some unreasonable behavior from your children. Maybe from your spouse. If you admit it, probably from yourself as well. And I’d just like to let you know that you are normal. You may know that you need to “do things differently,” but it might be easier to get to that place of “doing” if you first have someone to talk to who simply listens and understands. The same rings true for your kids.

So the next time your child melts down after a zoom call, refuses to do their math or demands to eat cereal for all three meals out of the day, I’d like to make one simple suggestion. Follow their wish with empathy. It may not be practical. It may never happen. But if you could hold their desire with tenderness, it would let them know that their needs make sense in this crazy world.

For example, if they are crying. Simply move in close if they let you, or ask them where they would like you to sit while they cry. Let them know you are there and that tears are normal. That tears actually help them feel better sometimes, and that they can notice the wetness roll down their cheeks and just pay attention to the sensation. I have found that having something nice to touch, like some putty, or a soft blanket, or even a cool rock can help the nervous system calm down. You don’t have to have any magical thing to say. Simply let them know that tears are normal and after a while they will stop. If they can focus on a sensation that is pleasant, like something they are touching or a sound they are noticing around them, invite them just to notice that pleasant sensation or sound. You may be surprised that after a few moments (or in especially intense moments somewhat longer) they can talk about what is bothering them. If they seem to be back in their resilient zone, their ability to problem solve around the unhappy situation might amaze you. Empathy first. Solution focus second.

If they are demanding more screen time, or to eat junk food non-stop, go with their wish. I do this with a series of “If you could…” statements. “If you could watch more YouTube today/or play more video games, what would you watch/play? What about this show/game do you like? Do you have a favorite character? If you could choose to watch/play  _____________ or _____________ which would you choose and why?” After dialing in to what is important to them, and showing that you are “for them and not against them” it gets a lot easier to speak to the rational part of their brain. “It’s a bummer that all your screen time is used up today because this show/game sounds fascinating. I can’t wait for you to have time tomorrow to watch the next one!” It’s a radical thought to be excited about what your kid loves to do, especially if you think it’s a waste of time, but if they can sense that you understand how much it means to them and that you are genuinely looking forward to them having their “fun screen time” the next day, the atmosphere changes.

I’m not promising that there might not be a meltdown anyway when you turn off the device, but I have found time after time that when you understand the why—when you have truly listened well—the part of your child’s brain that understands the rules and the schedules can come back “on line,” and there is typically less resistance.

And remember, you need the same thing. A friend who can listen, a partner who can listen, maybe it could even be a therapist who can listen. Empathy and encouragement can go a long in settling a hurting heart, while, almost magically, turning back online the parts of your brain that can have you once again, parenting like a pro!

If you listen for a change, you’ll likely find it.