Lending Strength

Here’s a scenario:  Your daughter, a junior in high school, is late for school and is insisting that she can’t enter the classroom because everyone will look at her and assume that she did something wrong.  She’s having a crying fit, saying that you have to let her miss the whole day at school, or at least let her wait to go to school until it’s a passing period or a recess.  Here’s another: Your son, a good student and something of a perfectionist, is insisting that he’s sick with a stomachache.  But the truth is that the English teacher moved a test forward, leaving him with less time to study; you suspect he’s anxious about failing -- or not doing as well as he normally does.  And a third:  Your middle school girl is struggling at school because the crowd she always used to hang with has turned against her and she finds that she’s alone at lunch.  There are other kids she could connect with but they all feel like misfits to her -- plus she’s anxious about reaching out to new kids, given that the old ones have rejected her.  And a final one:  Your son, who loves computer science, applied for a special after-school program that you know he’s really qualified for and would love.  But when the acceptance list is posted, to your amazement, you find that he hasn’t made the cut.  He says he’s okay, but has hunkered down in his room and isn’t talking to anyone.  

At first glance, these situations don’t really have a lot in common, unless you count that they’re all about the difficulties of being a teen.  But scratch the surface a little and you’ll see some surprising similarities.

Try this: Imagine that the kids in these scenarios aren’t teens.  Make them younger -- 10 maybe, or 8.  What happens?  The situations often become something where you intervene:  You talk to the teacher about the lateness or explain that little Johnny really needs an extra day to prepare for that test.  You go to the school to talk about social dynamics in the class or you call the program to find out what happened and why Sam wasn’t accepted.

Except that as your kid gets older, you can -- and should -- get involved less and less, or not at all.  But what happens to your child?  And the anxiety or disappointment or fear that they feel in these kinds of situations?  Do you leave him or her alone with the feelings as well?

Not at all.  You can’t fix situations for your kids, but you can do something even more important, something I call “lending them your strength”.  Here’s a big secret of parenting:  They have trouble believing that they can succeed if you can’t imagine it for them.  So you show it to them through your eyes.  Take our girl who’s melting down about the social disaster she imagines from being late:  “I know, Sally, that you’re worried what people will think, but I have confidence that it will be okay and your lateness isn’t ultimately a big thing.  Go ahead and pack up your books so I can take you to school.”  Note that you both help her imagine that she’ll be okay and insist that she move through the difficulty, rather than around it.  After all, if we let them slide away from experiences that are tough for them, not only will they never learn how to manage them, but they also will get the message that you, too, think that this kind of situation is so scary that they can’t manage it -- not at all the message you want to give.  Let’s think about our boy who’s afraid of failing: “I can feel how scared you are that you won’t do well on this test.  I have faith that you’re as prepared as you need to be.  And it’s nothing to miss school over.  Go ahead and pack up your books....”

Of course you can brainstorm with them how to make things easier.  If she’s willing, role play with your daughter how she might approach a new friend and talk to her about popularity and what friendship means.  Perhaps you can talk to your son about the importance of failure -- and of picking himself up and trying again.  Ask them what’s one thing they could do that might make it feel easier for them and what they think will happen if they try that.  But remember that even if they don’t want to hear from you, that’s okay too.  You are doing something to help when you believe that they have the skills to work it out for themselves -- and when you gently insist that they do. Remember how these difficult moments in your life helped shape you into the strong adult you are today.  And lend them that strength so they can grow into the strong adult you know they can become.  

Why FBT

So, first let’s start with the premise of FBT, or Family Based Therapy.  It’s a model designed to support parents in refeeding their starving anorexic teens.  The basic idea:  The parents decide what the teens should eat, put it in front of them, and the teens eat it.  

Of course, it’s not that simple, nowhere near.  Teens don’t generally make a habit of doing what it is that their parents tell them.  And anorexic teens are particular adverse, since ultimately this means that they have to eat all kinds of foods and quantities of foods that make them extremely uncomfortable and are in direct conflict with what their anorexia is telling them to do.

But there’s this additional confounding factor, especially as a therapist:  People often think that FBT strips teens of their autonomy, a hallmark of what many think therapy is supposed to promote.  After all, isn’t that what many therapists tout?  Finding your voice?  Exploring your self?  This feels like just the opposite.  That I am promoting some form of teen torture, that in allowing -- nay, supporting! -- parents in this endeavor, that I’m also somehow eliminating the rights of the teen.  And let’s face it, FBT is not always pretty:  Parents can have pretty big face offs with their kids, with kids throwing food, or sobbing on the floor, overtaken by their anorexia and desperate -- desperate -- to not have to eat what they’re given.  So, a lot of therapists think that they shouldn’t have to.  That the disease is simply a manifestation of a problem with the child’s relationship with the parents and should be treated as that, instead of giving even more power to the parents.

But here’s the way I see it:  Imagine you have a three-year old, a really responsible, sweet, listening kid, who always knows to stand next to you when you cross the street.  So you let her do just that, and don’t insist that she hold your hand.  But if that same sweet three year old suddenly turned a little wild and ran out into traffic, you would rewind the clock (after you calm down, that is.)  You would insist that your little sweetie hold your hand again to cross the street until you’re sure -- absolutely sure -- that she understands the importance of the safety issue of staying close.  Feeding and eating is really no different.  If your teen (or younger child) can’t make good decisions about food and eating, she’s not safe any more, as evidenced -- among other things -- by the high mortality rate of anorexia.  And with anorexia, there’s an additional catch: A starved brain actually can’t make good decisions.  In fact, the research is pretty clear that a starved brain has a really hard time deciding to feed itself.  

So, do I believe in growing autonomy for teens?  A resounding ‘Yes”!  But I also believe that as parents we sometimes shoulder the burden of setting difficult limits for our kids.  For some parents, it’s making the tough decisions about curtailing freedoms when they find their teen has broken house rules and values about the car or drinking or sex.  For some, it’s taking away the phone or setting limits around social activities.  These limits let kids know that you’re in charge, something that ultimately isn’t punishing (although it certainly can feel that way to both the parent and child) but that allows kids to feel that their world is safe and that they can trust you to be watching out for them.  And even though these consequences sometimes feel harsh, they should always be delivered with love and compassion.  Really, it’s no different with anorexia:  Until parents of kids with this ugly disease can trust that their children can make appropriate food choices, it’s up to them to create the structure that will provide safety and -- ultimately -- healing.  Refeeding isn’t a lifetime sentence for a teen; if all goes smoothly, it’s a way station on the track to wellness.  

Effortless Perfectionism

Life is rough for teens today, and particularly for girls.  Kids believe that they have to get all As, have a full plate of extracurriculars -- along with a bustling social-media feed -- and look fabulous while they do it all.  What’s more, they have to appear that they’re doing it without breaking a sweat, cultivating a kind of effortless perfectionism that insures that no one knows how tough it is for them to hold it all together.  No wonder teens have record-high levels of depression and anxiety.  While it might be possible to juggle all this for a short period of time, it’s an impossible task to continually pull it off.  

I believe that this problem of effortless perfectionism plagues women as well:  We often buy into the hype about all the different things we’re supposed to be, the multiple roles we should play.  Mothers and career women.  Committed volunteers and passionate partners.  We are egged on by everyone else’s Facebook page -- all those glossy photos showing fabulous family outings and well-dressed kids.  Not unlike our younger generation, we think we should do more and more and do it better and better.  

An ugly side-effect of this dilemma is that -- in an age of hyper connection -- we ironically often feel more alone.  Comparing our insides -- messy, untamed places -- with other people’s outsides is a losing proposition.  We all have voices that tell us the things that we’re not good at, the ways that we fail.  It doesn’t look that good when we’re comparing ourselves to these perfect-seeming acquaintances in our lives. And when we’re busy feeling inadequate, we feel too vulnerable to open up about our struggles.  No wonder that life feels less connected and people often feel depressed.

Seems like today’s women could go a long way towards helping today’s girls, just by thoughtfully role-modeling what’s truly important.  We have to be brave pioneers in tossing aside the idea of effortless perfectionism.  Of course exposing our imperfections is a risk, but embracing our true selves -- flaws and all -- is a kind of liberation.  The remedy?  Looking inward and slowing down.  Appreciating our strengths, instead ofover-focusing on our flaws.  Ask yourself what really matters and turn your sights to that.  What I know -- from the research, from observing it in my practice and by living it in my life -- is that meaningful human connection makes a difference.  Connecting with friends, laughing with your kids, taking a walk with your partner.  If you think it’s time to talk to a therapist about these issues, I would love to hear from you:  Call at 510-708-4636 or send me a message.