The Day I Learned to Forgive Myself

It was a Saturday afternoon, and we were heading out for dinner. My son was about 5 years old at the time and life was stressful. My husband and I both worked full time, and my son, though one of the most adorable children I’ve ever seen, struggled with impulse control, big, intense emotions, and following directions. He refused to get ready because, according to him, he wasn’t going to the restaurant.

I snapped. All the emotions I was holding back burst through that internal dam I had carefully built to ensure I could hide my true feelings. The anger and frustration shot out at my son as I yelled with my entire body. I don’t remember exactly what I said, and I know I had enough self-control left to not say anything hurtful or damaging, but I also know the force of emotion that flowed through me was scary to both of us. I stopped it quickly, went straight to my bedroom, stated, “I’m in a time out,” and slammed the door shut. Then I cried.

Back then I thought I had to hold it all together. I thought I needed to present an emotionless front as I held back all of my natural responses, which ranged from minor frustration to anger to despair. I felt like I was a bad mom, like I didn’t have the skills that came naturally to all the other moms, like something was missing in me. I had seen other parents, other moms, respond to their kids with calm voices, with redirection, setting expectations and boundaries, never getting loud, or frustrated, or threatening. Did it work? I’m not really sure. I know that we tend to compare ourselves to others, taking in only the pieces that seem important to us, pointing to our shortcomings or perceived flaws.  I remember that they seemed to be handing parenting so much better than I did, though I can’t actually remember if the children listened, or if their behaviour changed. Those moms seemed confident and self-assured, 2 things that I definitely was not!

As I became a bit more skillful in my parenting, in part by reading so many parenting books, I also started to pursue further education. I had always wanted to work with children in mental health, and I completed my Master’s degree with this end in mind. It was through this process that I learned about the importance of authenticity, and how our nervous systems communicate to each other. Researcher Stephen Porges (2022), the psychologist who developed Polyvagal Theory, has spent decades studying how our nervous systems are wired to seek trust, connection, and what he calls co-regulation with the people around us.

What Our Nervous System Is Really Doing

Have you ever been talking with someone and you get a feeling that something just isn’t quite right? I don’t mean that they’re creepy, although that is part of it, but just that what they are saying is not lining up with their body language, or you’re getting an indescribable feeling that makes you wary. This is part of our natural ability to scan the environment and identify possible threats. It’s part of our internal security system, starting with the amygdala, which allows us to make quick judgements to ensure our safety, without taking the time to fully cognitively process the situation. Porges gave this constant, background process a name: neuroception, the nervous system's largely unconscious way of sorting the people and situations around us into safe, dangerous, or life-threatening, long before our thinking brain catches up.

Our kids have this ability as well. When they sense incongruence between the parent’s facial expression, body language and message, their nervous sytem may react with a fight or flight response. Some clinicians believe kids may even push harder in these moments, testing whether the calm response you’re giving matches how you actually feel.

Instead of trying to hide our feelings, it’s important to regulate. We want to feel the feeling, and regulate our bodies and nervous systems, so we can be angry/sad/frustrated while responding with kindness and care to those around us. How do we accomplish this? How do we regulate?

First of all, find what works for you. For me I need to move my body. I can sway, rock, walk, stomp, hit a punching bag, or tap my fingers on my collarbone or heart. Some of these are more helpful in public spaces than others! I also like to listen to music, often loudly, so I put on headphones. When I’m working through something on my own writing helps. Some things I do when I’m not feeling dysregulated, when I have time, so the difficult emotions can be processed without building up. Some are needed in the moment, when I can feel the rising frustration in my chest, when I know I need to respond instead of react.

In those moments where I would have previously hidden my emotions, I pause, take a deep breath, and state the emotion I’m feeling. Then I chose a regulation strategy, and practice experiencing the emotion while continuing to engage.

If I were to relive the moment above that I described, I would not have allowed myself to get to the point where I might explode. I would have gone for a walk earlier in the day, or spent time writing in my journal. When my son refused, loudly, to leave for the restaurant, I would have taken a deep breath, stated my emotion, “I’m feeling frustrated that you don’t want to go to the restaurant.” I would also have stated his emotion, “It sounds like you’re feeling angry about going out.” At this point I could either make some guesses about why he didn’t want to go, “You don’t like being in restaurants. You don’t like all the people, it’s too noisy, and you don’t like sitting still.” I might have tried to problem solve some of his concerns, “We can bring your headphones so you can listen to some music,” or I might have simply restated the activity, “We are going to the restaurant.” While making these statements I would have been rocking, shifting my weight from side to side, or tapping my arm or collarbone. This would allow me to model feeling frustrated while regulating.

Now, many years later, I know that what my son needed, what I needed, was to learn to regulate my nervous system so I could connect authentically with my son. He was pushing me because his nervous system was telling him that something wasn’t right with mom, and he needed me to be authentic as well. While this would not have changed the initial trigger of the conflict, going to a restaurant, it would have dramatically changed the rest of the interaction, and could have led to improving our relationship rather than causing a rift.

It’s important to note that we do want to experience all the feelings. While some are more helpful in certain moments, all of our emotions are critical to living a full life.

It’s okay to be frustrated. It’s okay to be upset. It’s okay to be lonely, annoyed, empty, confused, excited, disappointed, indifferent, overwhelmed… All the emotions are part of the human experience, and, despite our childhood beliefs, parents are humans too.

In fact, showing your child your emotions is one of the best ways you can help your child learn to express, and regulate, their own emotions. When you hold back, trying to keep your true emotions held tightly within your nervous system, your child gets the message that it’s not safe to express themselves. Modeling how you handle your emotions helps children learn healthy ways to express themselves.

I learned to forgive myself for this event, and for so many others along the way. I was doing the best I could with what I had at the time. I didn’t know about nervous systems, emotional regulation, or even being authentic. I had no idea there could be a different way to respond. Each time we make a mistake, as a parent or in other areas of our lives, we learn something new. It sometimes takes time to figure it out, to change our behaviour and patterns, and to integrate it into our lives. The great thing is we can also model forgiveness to our kids, of ourselves and others. We can model self-reflection, self-compassion, and kindness. These are gifts that we give to our children each time we find a better way.

For reference or further reading: Porges, S. W. (2022). Polyvagal theory: A science of safety. Frontiers in Integrative Neuroscience, 16, Article 871227. https://doi.org/10.3389/fnint.2022.871227

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