What's Working

Reflection, Reframing, and Faith

So, the title: What’s Working. I realized it was a really good title for two different strategies: one, a reframe; the other, a reflection tool. Both helpful and may be related. I debated adding punctuation, but realized it could vary depending on the application. The question: What’s Working? is the essence of the reflection strategy while the statement: What’s Working is how you might apply the reframe strategy of managing what you’re looking for. This should be fun! Let’s see where this goes…

In Is It Time to Let Go?, I tease another reframe strategy that I’ve found to be a game-changer. For some foundational information on how and why you would want to create a practice of reframing, you may want to read, Grant Me the Serenity. In that piece, I focus mainly on reframing external circumstances in a way that offers more of a sense of control. Feeling impotent and hopeless is incredibly unhealthy and I cannot imagine a scenario where that leads to functional outcomes–unless, of course, the pain of hanging out there provides enough inspiration to try something new. 

If you get good at reframing through a lens of gratitude and spotting the growth opportunity, you’ll find yourself having a completely different experience. Truly. I have faith that this practice will work for anyone who puts in the dedication to master it. Of course, you must really want to do the work. You first have to recognize it’s possible to take control of your experience, and you have to then accept responsibility. Some don’t want this responsibility–easier to let the fear and anger consume you, especially when these emotions are justified. Used to be my m.o., but then it stopped working for me. Ooh! More on this later.  

Photo by Matteo Kutufa on Unsplash

This is really all about perspective. Ancient Stoics figured this out and practiced it during arguably more trying times than we currently live in. If they could pull it off, so can we. I expect this to be challenging for many, and if you’re in the mood to be angry, this won’t be the essay for you. 

I’ve talked about how embracing the concept of “different world views” has helped me make some peace with my daughter’s choice to identify as transgender. It’s also helped me to have conversations with her from a place of genuine curiosity and to plant questions in her mind as to whether this new religion is still filling the needs she joined it to fill. Regardless of whether I see it as a dangerous world view, I can operate from a place of recognition that when I was her age, I too, adopted what my mother saw as a dangerous world view—one that was different from her own—and this allows me to navigate a bit more carefully so as not to push her even more deeply in as she attempts to move away from me and my fear. I can stand on the solid ground of my values while being curious about this new belief system my daughter has embraced. If this one is already triggering you, know it might just be the hardest of the reframes. Let’s try something a little easier:

The whole essay, Defining Trans, is an example of reframing, as well as applying the reflection tool. Well, would you look at that? We already found a way to relate the two strategies. There are so many different ways to look at my daughter’s choice. In Defining Trans, I assert that she adopted this identity to serve several purposes. (In the permaculture course I just finished, my instructor would have called this “stacking functions.”) I conclude that essay by expressing pride in my girl for identifying and adopting a clever way to navigate what has become an increasingly confusing and dangerous adolescence. I’d even go so far as to say, it’s “worked” for her (and us even) in a number of ways.  

“Worked?!” you might exclaim. “Worked, how?” Well, and I know this isn’t everyone’s scenario, so bear with me. You may need to find a different angle to change your experience, but follow along here to understand mine. I’d say it’s worked well for her to avoid many of the uncomfortable and typically dangerous aspects of adolescence: she wasn’t ready to experience the types of relationships that evolve in the teen years when a more womanly body starts to develop. The trans mask has helped her avoid the male gaze that has become even more “threatening” in our pornified culture, and as a mother, I can’t say I’m too upset about that. It wasn’t what I was expecting to be dealing with–the binder instead of boys–but during her teen years, I never once had to worry about STDs or pregnancy. And she got a few more years of childhood out of it. Which for us—since our girl fits the profile of the quirky, sensitive, creative type who is emotionally behind many of her peers—was kind of a blessing. 

Hmm, that last paragraph really ended up a description of the reflection tool. Let me take a moment and define what I mean by a “reflection tool.” This journey with my girl has given me ample opportunity to develop the skill of examining whether something is adaptive or maladaptive. I’m constantly assessing behaviors: hers, mine, my husband’s, my son’s. It can be a tricky endeavor because often actions are a little bit of both. Usually a behavior is working to accomplish something, or the person engaging in it wouldn’t be doing it. The trick is to figure out what they (you) are accomplishing–which usually comes down to what need are they (you) trying to fill with it. If you’re struggling to identify the need, you may want to keep a list like this in a handy place to reference. 

My daughter’s emotional immaturity/sensitivity made adolescence more intimidating than it might be for someone who’s more ready for romance and, therefore, more willing to brave the awkwardness of blooming bodies and feelings to test out having a relationship of that nature. Donning the mask of trans worked well for her as an avoidance tactic. Does this mean that being trans has been adaptive for her? I would say in many ways, yes, indeed it has.  Of course, in many ways it’s also been maladaptive–not just for her but for our whole family–but this is where we are, and this is one way I can find gratitude in our situation. Is this making sense? 

So, the question to always be asking is, “how’s this working for me (or you or your daughter or your son)?” What is being accomplished? Is it still useful in the way it was when the behavior originated? Notice you can use this with your own behaviors. What are you currently doing that is no longer serving you? Are you trying to force a certain outcome for your child? If so, how’s that working out? Are your parenting strategies still working to achieve your intended outcomes? Have you examined those outcomes lately? Were your strategies ever intentional—or were you operating out of conditioning? Or maybe intuition? How do you tell the difference? Assessing whether what you’re doing is working, determining how you would know and being honest with yourself, trying something different when what you’ve been doing is not going well; these are useful skills to develop (and model) if you want to have more control over your experience. This is how you apply the question: “What’s working?”

I have faith that as my daughter’s prefrontal cortex matures, as she gets braver and more able to ask herself this question, she’ll shed the trans mask along with the shield it’s also provided her to avoid vulnerability. And I think this now brings me back to the reframe strategy of managing what you’re looking for. We all have behaviors that drive ourselves and others crazy. Many of us seem naturally wired to view the world through a critical eye (guilty) so this can really take some work to develop a more positive (or even neutral) lens and practice focusing on that statement: “What’s Working.” You’ve probably heard the saying, “What you focus on expands.” I have found this to be very true, and I’ll go into a little more detail later in this piece. For now, here are some prompts to get you thinking along these lines and maybe inspire you to work on a practice of lens-shifting: 

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

When you look at your child, what do you see? A victim? Or someone who is on a different developmental pathway? 

Someone who is incapable of caring for herself? Or a human doing the best she can to navigate this weird world we currently inhabit? 

Do you focus on what he does well and his qualities that will help him shed the mask eventually? Or are you consumed with fear that he’ll be lost in the ideology forever, and convinced you have to save him from himself? 

Do you trust her? Do you trust your connection with her? Do you trust the foundations of her childhood? If you don’t, can you get there? How might the energy be different if you had faith? 

If you’re fearful, what do you think that fear communicates to him? 

When I think back to the sheer panic I felt when I understood how deep into the identity my child was, when I realized my influence was not going to be enough to get her to drop it, I can now see that my faith fell out. Mind you, my parenting confidence had already taken some devastating blows. I now felt impotent, gripped with fear, and I behaved erratically. It’s funny though, because I also remember that when she and I were together in those early days of communicating about her new belief system, and I managed to stay in curiosity, I wasn’t afraid. The fear would sink in as soon as we would part, and I would take to the internet to research. Then I’d return to her, intent on breaking her out of the spell of the ideology. It’s as I’m writing this right now that I’m remembering this dichotomy:

With her and listening: faith. 

With her and trying to persuade: fear. 

Would you believe me if I told you you can train your brain (and your heart) for faith? As I’m writing this, I’m experiencing gratitude that our human biology seems to crave religion. So strange, isn’t it? Why is that? (I actually have thought lots about this and it shows up sometimes in my comments on PITT articles) Is it partly because the practice of faith offers meaning? This really took a weird turn, didn’t it? As I’ve said before, while I set out to write about a particular thing, I never quite know where these essays are going to go. Adding “Faith” to the title right now…

I do know it’s this faith that keeps me on solid ground. I am not a believer in a “higher power” in the usual sense. If you are, and it’s working for you, I say keep right on believing! The faith I have is in myself as a resilient human being, faith in my child and her human capacity (that she’s not ready to acknowledge but I know is there,) and faith in our attachment and the foundations of her early childhood. I have faith that as she matures, she’ll take on more and more responsibility for the quality of her experience. I see it already. But then again, I’m looking for it. 

I think the energetic bubble that accompanies us to any situation matters. The bubble is the result of our emotional state and as The Mom, I find it has a huge effect on my household. Paying attention to and taking responsibility for this bubble has the power to create peace or completely suck it out of the room. My bubble is very dependent on my assessment–or should I say, my interpretation–of the behaviors going on around me. I may not be able to control the behaviors, but the meaning assigned to those behaviors is mine to determine. And it’s pretty amazing how this approach can influence those behaviors. Then again, I’m paying attention to my kids’ humanity. Not what I need to fix about them.

If nothing else, this practice has changed my parenting experience. Fear wasn’t serving me. It was destroying me and beginning to seriously erode the connection I’d so carefully nurtured with my daughter. I had to find my way back to solid ground. I did this by paying attention to what was widening the chasm between her and me and what worked to keep us connected. I learned to manage the energy, the bubble. With faith. Faith is what worked and continues to work for me. 

And, like all my strategies, it’s a practice. Look for what’s working. Look for evidence your kid’s going to be okay and has the capacity to learn and grow, that she’ll eventually drop the mask and be comfortable in her skin, that he’ll one day come home looking to reconcile with the family, whatever it is you need to stay sane. Have faith in your kid. It’s true that you find what you’re looking for (though how it presents may surprise you! I encourage you to stay open to possibilities.) It may not happen right away, but humans are resilient creatures with an amazing capacity for suffering—and healing. I’m encouraging you to keep the faith. 

I suspect I will find myself writing more on the concept of perspective in future pieces. And probably more about recognizing and letting go of what’s not working. I’m hoping this is making some sense and the growing body of work that is StoicMom’s Substack is starting to come together and provide strategies to help you recover your parenting confidence (and your sanity?) Maybe even help restore some satisfaction and meaning to your quality of life? I’d welcome comments! And, tbh, more paid subscriptions if you’re finding value here. I spend lots of time creating this content for those ready to do the work of changing their experience. I’m grateful for the feedback and comments that indicate that you’re getting something out of reading and listening to my work! Paid subscribers chipping in a few dollars a month ensure I can keep the content coming. A giant thank you to those who’ve already indicated their gratitude with a paid subscription!!

Keep the faith, my friends!