I have been reluctant to share this with the greater world because I wasn’t sure if those receiving it could be trusted to hold it in the way it is intended. However, here I am sharing it because within the groups of mums I work with it has often deeply resonated, and I hope that it lands for those that need it.
A conversation came up in one of the first groups I ran, 2 years ago now. A beautiful mum has graciously allowed me to share one of her reflections. She said, “For me PDA parenting feels like a super strong rip in the ocean. That the more we fight the PDA, the more exhausted and dangerous it becomes. But once you come to understand PDA, learn strategies to work with it, then you can slowly work with the rip and guide yourself, and your child, to a safer and calmer stream.” Ruth Tait
It is an analogy that has stuck with me ever since and I wanted to share some further reflections.
Being caught in a rip is a situation that no one would choose to be in, and the feelings are often the same, overwhelming fear and anxiety for your child, yourself and your family.
You can use all your energy fighting against it, trying to get back to where you started, perhaps trying to return back to what life was like before burnout or back to the path of what you had imagined life would be like.
You might try to change your child, try to mould them to fit systems that aren’t suited to them. You might try to maintain your career and uphold all the societal expectations of what parenting should look like; what success looks like.
The more we fight, the more exhausted and dangerous the situation becomes.
From the outside, other people don’t necessarily know that you are caught in a rip. It’s hard to see. They might wonder why we are moving further away, distancing ourselves. Our PDA kids can be incredible maskers. Sometimes people have to experience the rip themselves, firsthand, before they truly realise the situation we are in.
However, once we come to understand PDA and learn strategies to work with it, we can stop fighting, we can catch our breath, we can find a safe place to come ashore.
It might be entirely different to the place where you started, the place you had imagined.
It’s OK to grieve and process the many losses that come up in this journey. Those losses are real and grieving them doesn’t mean that you don’t fiercely love and accept your kids.
At some point we have to find strategies to work through the negative thoughts when they come up. If we get stuck lamenting our situation, it will never be possible to find the joy that is right in front of us.
It is not easy. It takes time, courage, wisdom, and intention.
It is possible to find a life where we are not overwhelmed by the fear, worry or shame and can rest in acceptance, compassion, and empathy.
We can slow down and enjoy a simpler life and find ways within it to be fulfilled. That is where you can find joy, contentment and peace.
Just because it wasn’t what you imagined doesn’t’ mean it can’t still be beautiful.
I don’t share this to be dismissive of the struggle. I share it to offer hope for the future, that in a few years you will look back and be so proud of yourself and your child, for how far you have come.
Sometimes our hardest times are the catalyst for the most profound growth.
To the mum who first shared this analogy with me, Ruth, we thank you for your wisdom.
