As the mother of three teens, I’ve had endless opportunities to be the solid, unshakable force in my children’s sometimes stormy lives. Like any flawed human, I haven’t always been that. Every so often, old triggers sweep me up in the swirl of emotions and I’ve managed only to make it worse.

This time of year ushers in one of my most reliable triggers: leaving the house on time for school. During the last two Covid years, this became even more of a challenge as one of our children doesn’t hold academic performance or punctuality in particularly high regard. Sometimes he refused to attend at all.

His semi-regular opt-outs translated to changes to my schedule, which I haven’t taken well. The sudden loss of control over my life sparks a panic that, as a kid, became automatic. My mom had left and my father took to moving us without warning over and over again. It wasn’t something I simply got used to. I had to grow up and move away to make it stop.

In my own stable home, however, I am safe. And this year, I had every reason to feel optimistic. All things considered, we’d enjoyed a peaceful summer and seemed to be emerging from the emotional effects Covid—that silent despair of feeling all alone in your struggles. No amount of family togetherness held that at bay and the kids felt it acutely.

But here we are, a little roughed up from the experience, but among the very fortunate to come out the other end, still willing to move forward into whatever comes next.

This week, the new school year is upon us. Our previously unenthused student seemed to be on board for a fresh start.

On orientation day, I had clients before and after drop off, so it was up to him to get himself ready, breakfast and all. He was aware that I’d only be stopping by to let him know it was time to go.

Only he was still in bed.

“Why do I even have to go to orientation?” he asked, still under the covers.

“Seriously? How many orientations have you attended in your life. It’s so you know what you are doing and where you are going. What? Oh my God.”

Without warning, panic flooded my body. My heart pounded and my head filled with pressure. I walked away to have these feelings elsewhere.

A couple deep breaths didn’t do much to calm my nervous system but stepping away helped. I busied myself pulling out his lunch and tossing it in the backpack.

When I returned, a slow crawl from the bed had commenced. Not enough to celebrate, but it was something.

Time ticked away and my next appointment began at the top of the hour. After what seemed like the entire Paleolithic Age, he got in the car. I calculated the time to get there. Without shoes on, but he could do that on the fly.

He would be eleven minutes late.

As soon as we pulled out, calm returned. I would be back with enough time to clean up my energy and review my session notes.

After I wished my son good luck and said goodbye, disappointment that I was still dealing with this reaction set in. This pattern of panic and feeling like a victim had to go. Flooding my chest with stress hormones was terrible for my health, especially considering what I had just been through. And I didn’t love how I treated my son who actually needed my help motivating.

Over the next week, I worked on it. I journaled and listened to my favorite teachers. I scheduled coach the coach sessions. Glennon Doyle and Martha Beck filled the cabin of my car as I ran errands. During dinner prep last night I caught the Super Soul podcast with Bishop T.D. Jakes and Oprah.

Martha suggests sitting with the triggered feeling when it comes and allowing yourself to realize nothing bad is happening. She gave the example of a soldier who couldn’t understand why he was having panic attacks in the shower. He finally figured out that the scent of the soap was the same as the one he’d used in combat. He retrained his body to recognize he was safe now.

Bishop T.D. Jakes recommends against ‘anchoring our lives to a moving object.’ In my case, my son’s difficulties don’t have to become mine. Time-wise I was in good shape—there really was no reason to freak out. Being present to this in the moment would do me some good.

I am not defined by what is happening around me

 I am stable by what is happening in me.
-Bishop T.D. Jakes

So what’s the plan for next time?

1. Talk to the panic and fear. Acknowledge it for showing up to help, as it always has. Tell it we are safe now, it doesn’t have to be in charge anymore.
2. Step away to self regulate.
3. Breath work. Long inhale, hold for a couple of seconds. Exhale for longer. As many times as it takes to stop the heart from pounding.
4. Lastly, stay present to what is happening and acknowledge progress. As Glennon Doyle says, become aware of your pain and walk straight into it. First we surrender, then we rise.
5. Speaking of surrender, I must be willing to surrender the outcome. He will do what he is going to do because it is his own path. And it doesn’t have to knock me off mine.

One never knows what is about to happen. Whatever it is, you can be steady in the storm.

 

Peace be the journey everyone!

Love,

Elizabeth

POWERFUL QUESTION: What pattern do you wish to change in your life? How’s it going so far? What is helping?

I offer one on one coaching using the Wayfinder Coaching model designed by Martha Beck. If you would like to find out if this work is right for you, email me to schedule a Discovery Session at elizabeth@elizabethheise.com. And if you are family or a friend, I have a wonderful coaching community who are ready to partner with you.

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