There’s Gentle Parenting and then there’s Gentle Parenting with Complex PTSD. Let’s unpack…
During my four years as a parent, I’ve had to unlearn a lot of what I thought a parent was and teach myself what gentle parenting is…in spite of dealing with Complex PTSD.
Under the totalitarian regime of my toxic parents, I absolutely felt destined, if I did have any children of my own, to carry on the generational abuse. I felt that having kids would lead to my own Chernobyl-level event: that I’d meltdown, lose my mind, and continue the cycle of spewing radioactive toxicity.
With complex PTSD and parenting, there’s an initial feeling of powerlessness. You feel broken, helpless to change. You recognize all the ways in which what was modeled for you has poisoned you, and you know that to carry on the torch is wrong…but you feel like it’s in your blood. Like you’ve been programmed. And this is how “hurt people hurt people”.
What Not to Do
My parents were angry, volatile, emotionally-immature, and highly-reactive children. They made no room for my or my sister’s feelings growing up, had no compassion or understanding for developmentally appropriate child behavior, any question was seen as an argument and met with active hostility.
There was constant strife in our house, and rare moments of peace were either a calm before a storm or because no one was talking to each other.
There was gaslighting, screaming, spitting, spanking, and slapping. It was very much an environment where the rules “Do as I say, not as I do” and “Children are to be neither seen, nor heard” always applied. Although I don’t remember a lot of my childhood, I do remember being chronically stressed and overwhelmed and powerless.
I remember struggling with chronic stress-related incontinence into my early teenage years. There’s memories of being dragged across the floor by my hair, I remember being blamed for every “ruined” holiday or birthday, and I remember feeling imprisoned. I certainly don’t remember ever feeling genuine love.
To this day, I frequently have stress dreams about being back there, in that house. Unsuspecting loved ones accidentally hit hidden triggers that set off an emotional flashback, just those feelings of being actively shut-down or ignored. I’ve been No Contact for nearly three years, and the trauma still lingers, if for no other reason than now also having to grieve the loss of what never was and will never be.
TL;DR? My parents sucked at parenting and were anything but gentle parents.
Good Enough
The true struggle at this point, particularly over the past year, has been trying to redefine what a “good enough” parent even is. With complex PTSD and parenting, you doubt that you can ever even meet a bare minimum baseline of being a “good enough” parent. When you’re raised a certain way by parents who lack the humility or self-awareness to choose a different way of parenting, you know only one reality of what raising children looks like.
Well, okay then, do I want to rule over my kids with absolute authority by having them fear me? Screw a safe, trusting relationship. Blind obedience is the only acceptable child behavior! You will blindly obey me and comply with my every order. Or suffer my wrath.
Ugh, scratch that. Sounds terrible. Not to mention, it also kind of sounds like how I was pregnant. I’m SO sorry, Coen! I love you!
One Day at a Time
So I’m learning, and I’m taking it a day at a time with this gentle parenting thing. I’m pushing past my parents’ voices in my head telling me that I’ll never have my children’s respect, that they’ll be spoiled, that they’ll walk all over me. Pushing past the “curse” they always levied against me that my children will be just like me, that I’ll reap what I sow. Speaks volumes of how they really felt about me…
I’m rejecting the “I better only have to tell them to do something one time and one time only, or else they’re being deliberately disobedient and disrespectful, and I need to punish them” mentality. These are my children that I’m nurturing and helping to learn and grow; they aren’t my employees, or worse, my slaves.
I’ll probably have to tell them many things until I’m blue in the face before they really understand and accept them as expectations or boundaries. They. are. learning. Do I still struggle with that triggered twinge of wounded pride from time to time when they “test limits”? Absolutely. Just the natural triggers of gentle parenting with complex PTSD. But do I allow a feeling to consume me and lead to reactivity? Well, sometimes, but only rarely anymore. And I apologize when that beast rears its ugly head.
I think that’s key. Honesty, humility, self-awareness, being. able. to. say. you. are. sorry. And choosing GROWTH.
Gentle Parenting with Complex PTSD in Practice…
Gentle parenting is not permissive parenting unless you’re doing it wrong. You establish and maintain consistent boundaries in a safe, healthy, and compassionate way, while treating your children like people. You make room for their feelings and take into account where they are DEVELOPMENTALLY.
Understanding what is developmentally appropriate behavior from a child is such a game-changer! So far, WOW, I genuinely get surprised sometimes when it really WORKS, but it does!
Tonight, Orson was not having it with dinner. It was a tuna melt, which he usually loves. Not this time. It’s frustrating and demoralizing when he refuses a cooked meal. And when he refuses it once, the probability is high that he’ll refuse it on sight with future attempts. We can bribe, sure, “just 3 bites Orson, c’mon”, but that’s not gentle parenting. Forcing it down his throat definitely isn’t it. So what do we do?
We let him down from the table, we put his meal away to try again later, and once Nova finished her meal, we took them to the neighborhood pool Splash Pad. They had an absolute blast, and as we were driving home, Orson asked for a Pumpkin Bite. We were tempted to go the bribery route once again, “Only if you finish your dinner”. Instead, we let him and Nova each have one as they got into the tub.
Tuna Melt, Take Two
Once they finished taking a bath, we brought Orson out and offered the dinner he had previously refused. He actually seemed to take offense at the implication that he had to try this “food” again. So I met him on his developmental level. We aren’t going to force you to eat it, we’ll let you have some yogurt before bed, but in the meantime, let’s just have fun exploring the meal.
He followed my lead, hesitantly at first, but before too long, he was pulling apart pieces of his sandwich, counting them, pulling them out of his bowl, then putting them back…and this whole interaction achieved two things. He became more comfortable with the food instead of associating it with a really upsetting experience…and he ATE some of it! Of his own accord. After a pumpkin bite AND yogurt, he was still curious enough, felt safe and supported enough, that HE made the choice to eat what he previously refused. VICTORY!
I Wanna Hold Your Hand
Another example? I hold firm the expectation and boundary that he has to hold my hand when he isn’t on a sidewalk. This applies to neighborhood walks when crossing the street, walking through a parking lot, etc. Last week, we took Coen to Hopdoddy’s to celebrate his last day of the school year. When it came time to leave, Orson refused to hold my hand.
Oh, well, okay, if that’s what you want, I guess. Eff that noise. I have this as a set boundary for his safety. HOWEVER, I did not get angry or impatient with him. I got down on his level and I gave him the choice. I understand you don’t want to hold my hand. That’s alright. I can carry you instead, but that’s the only option I can give you because I need to keep you safe.
He cried when I inevitably had to carry him to the car. But I did it gently. I firmly enforced a boundary. He chose not to hold my hand and didn’t want me to carry him, but those were the choices. Still, I didn’t get angry at him for crying or being upset. I know that he wants to be independent, and I know it’s disappointing in situations when he doesn’t get to be. On top of that, he was tired and had sugar in his system.
Cycle-Breaker
Since then, we’ve been presented with similar situations, like leaving the library and expecting him to hold my hand once outside. I present him with the same choice when I’m met with resistance. Now, when I pick him up, instead of crying, he remembers there’s another option: “All done, hand, hand.” So I set him back down, and he holds my hand, knowing that he got to make a choice and his Mama respected it.
In this way, with my children, as an aspiring “gentle-parent”, I’m laying a foundation for trust, feeling safe and respected, supporting my kids in their growth until they are developmentally capable of understanding boundaries. I don’t want their fear, I want their cooperation. I want them to go to sleep every night knowing that they are loved. And I want to give them the gift of emotional security and peace. So the cyclical generational abuse ends with me.
I’m OVERCOMING Complex PTSD in Gentle Parenting
There are still days where the complex PTSD feeling of powerlessness creeps into my parenting, but I know it’s not based in reality. I’ve grown so much. I can safely say that I’ve already surpassed my parents’ skill as parents. But, to be fair, the bar was really low to begin with. I may carry in me the scars and trauma of their failures, but I’m making damn sure that my children never have to.