Conflict

Parent and child working through disagreement.

She held the ball away from him. She asked that he only say two words to get it. It didn't work. He screamed, he wrestled, and he refused in every method he could think of.

Stubbornness or defiance? Was this the oppositional part that they had warned about so early on? Why couldn't they find a neutral position? He always fought to destruction on the smallest point of saying the words during the encounter or after. He never, ever negotiated, but held on her lines as too much and impossible because it wasn't agreed to. Even though that was exactly what they'd agreed to.

The anger was there, but it wasn't rage. Was it? Did it matter if he was that angry? Why did she resist so hard, if it was just to test his limits? Why did she give in at all, other than to re-iterate the earlier claim? He was a liar and he couldn't be trusted to keep his word. She had to keep testing him, keep provoking him, to see if he could ever be trusted.

Years changed children, but they also changed the parents.

She warily circled that debate in her mind, wondering whether it was a loss or a gain for him developmentally. There were some topics that couldn't be discussed rationally in the moment, but perhaps in an hour, perhaps tomorrow, next week at the very latest. She'd have to write that down or she'd completely forget to bring the object lesson back to him.

It wasn't his fault. He was born this way. She was, too, except sometimes when she remembered the negotiation tactics. But someone else would blame him in the future, somehow, because that was how these things worked. He needed to listen in the moment.

Down the rabbit hole, she wondered if she even heard people when she was in that moment. She didn't know so many things that she thought she should have learned by now, but that's the problem with life - it had so much to teach.

She spiraled down and down into herself. She had been told too often that there were consequences to her actions. She had to lead with her heart and follow. Where did her heart lead? Too many of life's lessons pounded through her skull, blocking out anything her heart might have said.

Guiding herself through a short meditation, she brought her attention to her breath. What did her heart want? What did she want? She couldn't decide. She knew she was supposed to set a good example for those who might come afterward. Those like him, who struggled with the regular examples set by others.

She watched him from a distance, as he was back in his own world with his own boundaries. Had he won? Had she? Was there any way a conflict could be a win or a loss when they're both stuck alone afterward?

She let go of the meditation, and she brought herself back to the present. She could stay where she was, for now. She could be doing the right thing and both of them could lose because of that. There was no way to know what the answer was until he was grown, and that would still be years away.

When she opened her eyes, he was near her again. He hugged her tight, then ran off in a different direction. She hoped she deserved that. She had earned it, she was sure, if not through this exercise than through something else. Dependents really did need their caregivers, and she gave herself fully in every way she could.

She watched him play on the other side of the room, building and changing a town with tiny pieces that fit together. His creative side had won for the moment, and she loved watching what he created. Those moments always gave her an idea of what went through his mind that he couldn't or didn't know how to share.

His play didn't involve her directly, though she imagined it could if she moved closer. She didn't, giving him the space to figure out his own play for a while. He needed time to himself, too, even in the same room. She had other things she needed to do, but her moment of reassurance in his presence was enough.

She had to believe she was doing the right thing. The hug might even meant he'd forgiven her already. He had a good heart.