When Kinsley was two years old, she already knew how to affirm her successes.
I remember when she was first introduced to toddler games on the iPad. By the excitement in her voice when she yelled, “I did it!” anyone listening would have scanned the skies to see if she had learned to fly.
The game was basic. Four animals sat at the top of the screen with the outline of their silhouettes beneath them — like four one-piece puzzles. After dragging the correct animals to the matching outlines, balloons and fireworks appeared on the screen accompanied by celebratory music. Kinsley joined the party by jumping up on the chair, raising her hands in the air and yelling, “I did it!”
Another day when I visited, Kinsley met me at the door and repeatedly yelled, “Gaga! Gaga!” until I paused to look. As she pulled her shirt up, she pointed to her underwear — proud to model big girl panties which she wore over her pull-ups. I clapped, cheered, picked her up and whirled her around the room.
Her accidents still occurred often enough that this double layering created a precaution and protected the carpet, but she recognized what is possible. She proceeded to tell me the names of the cartoon characters decorating her underwear, Everest and Skye, two dogs from Paw Patrol. They supported her in reaching her goal.
Then there was the time while talking to my daughter on the phone, Kinsley pleaded to talk to Gaga. Into the phone, she loudly announced with pride, “I peed.” I understood her excitement, she had used the potty like a big girl.
Children are happy. The do not hang onto problems and concerns any longer than it takes to change the TV channel to cartoons or bake cookies. When challenged, they move onto a different activity and celebrate a different success. Adults on the other hand want immediate results. We want to succeed every time, and we become stuck when we don’t. That is not realistic.
Sometimes, I wallow in despair feeling sorry for myself. When things don’t go as planned. My emotional mind controls my rational mind, and I start listing my failures. Then I add to this list the tasks not completed because I am pouting. I end up on my bed crying. My depression can increase when I admit I am lying in bed feeling sorry for myself so I convince myself that I should not try because I would probably mess up anyway.
Kinsley’s behavior reminds me to celebrate my successes. I remember a time she threw a fit in frustration because she couldn’t reach an apple, a small struggle she viewed as a HUGE problem. Once she discovered success on the iPad, her excitement made her forget what she couldn’t do, and she celebrated what she accomplished.
When I find myself curled on the bed frustrated, I am embarrassed. I am an adult and throwing a fit is childish behavior, so I stand up and go about my day with a positive attitude. At that moment, my new-found wisdom produced a great calmness.
Yeah, right! Not so much.
The vicious cycle continued, in fact, it amplifies because now I judge and convicted myself guilty and unworthy because of my self-centered behavior. I clutch my grief and berated myself.
However, when the tears dry up, I return to a rational woman and begin to process the events and emotions. Will I feel sorry for myself in the future? Of course, but maybe next time for a shorter period — or maybe not.
No matter how insightful I pretend to be, I am human. I am writing to testify that self-bullying is real, but I have the strength to apply common sense, eventually. Everyone does. As so often happens, a child reminded me to list my accomplishments:
a load of wash — done
taxes — done
bed made — done
played with the dog — done
Celebrate accomplishments.
I love this story. Your writing makes me so happy.