As a psychologist who works with children, I am often asked by parents what
to do when a child is being rude, demonstrating aggressive behavior or
showing a lot of anger. This is especially common among parents who are
parenting children who are neurodivergent or with a history of trauma,
attachment wounds, or unpredictability in the family system. This is often
triggered when a parent needs to say no, set a limit, or make a demand of
their children. It’s not uncommon for parents to come to me feeling worn
down by being the target of their child’s anger. It’s not uncommon to hear a
weary parent say, “I feel like my child is gaslighting me,” or “I feel like my child
is abusing me.”
In an online parenting group, a mom wrote a post that many members
resonated with, describing feeling so defeated by the actions of her son,
especially when he became aggressive and lashed out when she had to say
no to his many demands, like going to McDonalds or playing video games
nonstop. She said she felt like she was walking on eggshells around him,
waiting for him to abuse her. One of the moderators in the parenting group
wrote a thoughtful response, and I see so much wisdom in it that I quote it
here (with permission). Your situation may be much less extreme, but I offer
this here because I believe the vignette applies to many families, even if your
child has not experienced early life trauma, just on a less intense scale.
“What I can hear from what you’ve shared is that you are parenting a child in
an enormous amount of pain. Because he has a RAD diagnosis, we know that
he experienced a pattern of extreme insufficient care. We also know that this
leads to a child who doesn’t know they are precious and thus is immensely
guarded. This is very hard work, mama, and I know you are tired.
Because we can know these things, it can help us understand his responses.
When a child doesn’t have innate trust that their parent only wants what is
best for them and that they deserve only goodness from their parents, every
“no” is going to feel like dying. As a result, while there are a few solutions in
the moment that might help on a good day, the underlying work of
deepening attachment is where most of the work has to happen. This is
exacerbated with children who have developmental challenges because they
truly may not accurately interpret what parents are doing and may genuinely
believe parents are lying to them.
You may have done all of this, but often the specific words and intent we
bring can have an enormous impact. For example, when we remember that
from his perspective he is in enormous pain when he hears ‘no’ or has to
transition, we can summon great empathy. We aren’t just telling our child ‘no’
and disappointing them. They hear that we think they are worthless and
mean nothing. When we know that, our voice, heart and mind changes and
our children can feel that.
With specific situations, you may find that he needs more transition support,
so you might want to sit and watch him play video games, ask him questions
about the games, play with him if he’s willing (lots of opportunities there for
silliness if he’s open to that) and then help him prepare to transition. ‘Oh darn!
It looks like we have 15 minutes left before we need to do X. This is so much
fun that I hate to stop!...and we have to. Ugh! Can you show me something
super cool before the time’s up?’
When you then hear the anger and complaining, with great empathy: ‘I know!
You are so good at that game. We have to make sure you have time to play
later (tomorrow, this week)!’
When you need to say ‘no’ to McDonald’s, you might be able to say
something like, ‘Oh, you want McDonald’s and today we are eating at home.
We must make a plan for McDonald’s right now and put it on the calendar. It
is important to me that we make that happen!’
It also takes the enormous work of hearing every angry word as sobs of pain.
This translation work can be incredibly hard and is also vital. A visual that
helps me is to imagine a child who has just broken their leg and is in
incredible pain. They thrash, they hit, they yell. This is the visual that I imagine
when I see a child who is thrashing with the pain of attachment loss. It’s also
almost always the level of control a child has. They are thrashing in pain and
survival, and our gentle, nurturing response to them is part of what will
eventually lead them to safety.
If you haven’t already looked into physiological reasons for chronic irritability, I
would also do that. They can include anxiety, food and chemical sensitivities,
sensory issues, learning disabilities, neural wiring, and more.
I know that this is incredibly hard and you are exhausted. That is true and real.
And there is hope for your precious boy.”
Another moderator in the group responded (again, quoted with permission):
“This is such beautiful wisdom! I needed to hear this today. ‘Hearing every
angry word as sobs of pain.’ Yes! This is so true. It helps me to remember that
after a meltdown, after all the swearing, insults, threats and destruction, my
son will get to a depleted place where his defenses are down and he’ll just cry
about all the things that are REALLY going on: ‘No one likes me,’ ‘I don’t
belong in this family,’ ‘I’m worthless,’ “You hate me.” ‘I’m so stupid.’ I think
about how hard it must be for him to carry around such pain and my heart
breaks for him. I have to tap into that compassion when he’s in the lashing
out phase.
I also loved what you said about ‘no.’ It hit me when we were in a negotiation
about video games, and after I set a limit my son was pushing back on about
an hour of time being arbitrary (which, I have to acknowledge, it was). And he
said, ‘But you could say yes! You could! And you’re saying no! You just don’t
care about me! You don’t love me!’ And then he literally cringed, as though I’d
hit him. And I realized that for him, me saying no was like me striking him.
Which makes sense, because emotional pain and physical pain are processed
in the same part of the brain.
For my son, I am all powerful. I can say yes or no to anything. And when I
choose to say no—to more video game time, to McDonald’s, anything—he
sees no other reason than that I don’t love him. For me (with no trauma in my
background), I can take disappointment as it comes and roll with it. For my
adopted son, all the previous hugs and love and times when I’ve said yes in
the past are obliterated, and the universe shrinks down to that one ‘no,’ and it
is the only thing that exists and it is repudiating everything about him.
It makes total sense, because in so many ways my son is like a ‘leaky bucket.’
He’s looking for validation and comfort and love and esteem all outside of
himself. He’s constantly looking for affirmation that he’s ok, because unlike a
securely attached child, my son’s validation and sense of self-worth doesn’t
reside in himself, it resides outside of himself (food, purchasing, winning,
attention from others, etc.). But no matter how much his bucket gets filled by
these things, he has a hole in the bottom where his sense of self should be, so
it all leaks out. Hearing no is like overturning the bucket. Actually, it’s like me
coming up and kicking over the bucket intentionally, because in his mind, I
could say yes but I’m saying no and there’s no good reason other than that I
hate him and he’s worthless.
Good news is, it can get better over time! My son at almost 14 is much better
able to self-regulate and withstand ‘no’ than he was at 8. I’m much less often
seen as the enemy, and he has a lot more ‘object permanence’ in that he can
still hold on to my love even under the stress of demands or denials of his
desires. But he still needs me to be actively working with him—there’s still a
hole in his bucket, it’s just mended to be a lot smaller now.”
--
If you’re reading this and have ever felt like you are a victim of your own child,
you are not alone. It’s easy to feel like your child is gaslighting you or
deliberately manipulating you. As a psychologist coming from a
developmental perspective, I think it’s important to think about how to
approach this situation and how to view this child, or any child who is
struggling for one reason or another. The lens we look through determines
what we see. When we’re on the lookout for “disrespect,” “disobedience,” or
“defiance,” we’re caught in a paradigm in which what we care about is a
child’s obedience to our authority, and the tools to achieve it are often the
traditional ones of reward and punishment.
If you change your lens, you might see something different. Remind yourself
that when dysregulated, your child is like a snarling dog. When you first see it
in the woods, you think it’s aggressive. But then you approach closer and look
down and see under the layer of leaves that her paw is caught in a steel trap
with sharp teeth digging into her flesh. She’s snapping and growling because
she’s in excruciating pain. You step back and realize that it’s not aggression at
all, it’s pain, and she doesn’t mean to be mean.
You then realize that your job is to get her paw out of the trap and heal the
wound (not just get her to stop growling). And, boy, is that going to be messy
and painful for all involved. Afterwards, every time you get near that paw as it
heals, she may growl deep in her throat. No matter how much you pet her
and feed her and no matter how much she snuggles into you and loves your
love, when you touch that painful paw, she’s going to revert and might even
snap to protect herself. And hearing “no” is a touch to that painful place.
And you come to realize that that’s understandable. That’s exactly what you or
anyone else would do if you had a similar wound. It’s not about you. It’s not
personal. Of course, you hope that she will be kind to others in your home, but
that may not be possible right now, given the pain she’s in. Of course, she
lashes out, but that’s not purposeful. It’s still important to say no sometimes,
because parents need to keep their children safe and we can’t always say yes.
But what we can do is remind ourselves to see our children’s disappointment
through a compassionate lens.
Changing your lens is all about seeing your child’s pain under the anger.
Reminding yourself of that will allow you to muster your compassion, and
that is what will enable you to continue to build your relationship.
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