“If your compassion does not include yourself, it is incomplete.” – Buddha
Last week when my daughter and I were dropping my son at his daycare, Simon the teacher in the 2’s class was at the check-in table. I was talking to Simon as we did the sign-in and temperature check and then when I went to say good-bye to my son, I distractedly said, “I love you, Simon.” (No, it wasn’t a Freudian slip, I swear). My daughter started to giggle as did I, we waved at my son as he walked away and just slipped out the door laughing.
It was embarrassing to make a mistake in front of my kids. To be clear, I’ve made plenty of mistakes in front of and with my kids but usually privately or before my oldest was socially aware enough to pick up on it. I know from the work of sociologist and researcher Brene Brown how important modeling shame resilience is for kids so that they can see how you can name it, talk about it and survive it instead of keeping it inside where it can percolate for a long time. Just thinking about it and I recall shame that I’ve never given air like the time I was in the toy store with my daughter when she was still in diapers and I overheard one parent say to another, “Someone in here has a poopy diaper.” And it was my kid. <groan> I still can remember that vividly more than three years later probably because I’ve never talked about it before this post.
Shame resilience was not something that was modeled for me when I was a kid. I had two great parents, my dad who was so likeable and well-intended that it was easy to believe he never suffered and my mom who is such a perfectionist that it’s easy to believe she never did anything wrong. But I remember when I sat my dad to tell his stories when he was in his late 70’s and he told of a story when he had to let go someone on his staff. He’d hired a married couple to play a role in the church my dad was senior pastor of and the husband was noticeably absent. My dad had to let him go and the wife was livid and felt her husband had been terribly mistreated. In the few years that followed she then suffered a miscarriage and her marriage broke up and though those things had no direct relationship to my father, he felt terrible until the end of his days despite the many different ways he tried to apologize over the years.
These were the things we never talked about as a family when we were young. Perhaps that’s too big of an issue to hear about as a kid but it’s the only example I have. So I’m trying to remember that with my kids and stay open to just say a sentence or two. As we left the daycare, I said to my daughter, “That was embarrassing.” She asked why and I said, “Well, I don’t know Simon well enough to love him AND I didn’t properly say good-bye to your brother so I messed up both things.” And then she asked, “What’s embarrassing mean?” It was a great entrée to a little conversation about life. What I said wasn’t wise or big but it was transparent and true which I hope will ventilate my shame and show her how she might endure hers when she feels it.