Stories we tell ourselves

A few parents have asked, "How can I keep an open heart when my teen swears and yells at me and calls me names? How do I keep my heart open when she's so demanding, when he behaves so badly?!"

We say we can't keep our hearts open because then we'd be vulnerable. But is a closed heart really any safer than an open one? And which feels better?

So why do we close our hearts? Because we tell ourselves stories.

Once upon a time ... and they all lived happily ever after.

It's just the part in the middle that's such a problem!

Here's how it seems to go:

• An event happens, or someone does something.
• I attach a meaning to it.
• Based on that, I judge the meaning to be good or bad.
• I get an instant ping of either pleasure or pain.
• I decide the right way to feel about it.
• I create a story to justify how I feel - and to explain why feeling this way isn't my fault.

Here's a true story: Mary's husband Jeff used to get up early every Saturday morning and empty the dishwasher. And he let everybody in the house know he was emptying the dishwasher.

The meaning Mary attached to it was, "He's angry about having to empty the dishwasher."

Having judged this to be bad, she became angry and went on to create a story around it: "Well, if it makes him so angry to empty the damn dishwasher, why does he do it? Why doesn't he just leave it for me? He does this every Saturday - my only day to sleep in! This is ridiculous!"

Once the adrenelin had kicked in, she'd storm downstairs, demand to know why he was so angry, and confront him with his inconsiderate behaviour - all of which left him bewildered and confused.

This story played itself out every Saturday morning for years. Same beginning, same ending.

Then one Saturday morning, she resisted the urge to attach a meaning, judge it, or create a story around it. Instead, she walked downstairs and calmly asked him why he was banging the dishes around. "Oh. I didn't know I was. I guess I'm just a noisy kind of person." Turns out he wasn't angry at all. In fact, he liked emptying the dishwasher. He just wasn't aware that he made so much racket when he did it.

Jeff still empties the dishwasher every Saturday morning - and Mary sleeps through it. And they all lived happily ever after.

So how is it that our stories are responsible for the state of our hearts if the meaning and judgement came first? Aah, that's next week's post!

How to say "No!"

One mother I know is frequently abused by her kids: insults, swearing, verbal abuse, unreasonable demands, bullying - you name it, they've done it.

This can be a difficult cycle to break. Although none of us likes abuse, like anything else, we can become accustomed to it - and accustomed to ineffective ways of dealing with it.

So I was very interested to hear how she began to break the cycle. Here's a conversation she had with her abusive daughter:

I was out picking up groceries when my daughter called. "Mom, bring me back McDonald's!"

"Honey, I owe you an apology."

"For what?"

"For giving you the wrong impression."

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Well, clearly I've given you the impression that you can swear at me, threaten me and abuse me, and expect that I'll still buy you McDonald's, and I want to apologize for that."

She swore at me, then hung up.

I was impressed by how calm, confident and respectful she was throughout the exchange. It's likely not the end - but it's certainly a good start!

Another mom shared this story:

My daughter asked me to buy her cigarettes. I replied, "I will never buy anything that will contribute to the death of my child." And she never asked again!

Many years ago, when my oldest son was most challenging, I was having a particularly difficult day with him. That evening, he asked me to drive him somewhere, and I said no. When he asked why, I said, "Because if I were to do that, I'd feel bitter and resentful, and that wouldn't be good for my relationship with you." No idea where that came from, but it worked! He stood there speechless, then turned and walked away.

Share your best "No!" moments with us. What worked best for you?