TL;DR:
After losing his temper with his child during a rough, emotionally charged day, the author reflects on how shame follows these moments and argues that what matters most isn’t staying perfectly calm but how often it happens, how you repair it, and whether you stay emotionally available. He shares a simple practice (notice the signal in your body, name it, release it, and remember that “they can’t regulate their emotions yet, but I can notice mine”) and invites parents to try catching one such moment today.
I decided to use my fatherly voice last Saturday. It’s a voice that only my wife and my child have heard. I don’t like that voice, and I’m sure that if you’re a parent, you don’t like yours either.
We had a rough, whirlwind kind of day. Well, our child mostly. They’re going through a transition in their life, and it rocks their emotional world like few things have before. Laughter and crying follow each other in quick succession.
Around lunch we got into an argument, about lunch, because they hated what their mother had prepped. That’s cool, freedom of speech and all. But our acceptance wasn’t what they expected, so the situation escalated. Voices were raised, tears were shed. I apologized and made amends the best I could, then we decided it was prime time for the afternoon nap. You can imagine that was a failure too. I felt helpless, because I had plans to squeeze in a different article during those two hours. That failed as well.
I was in the room with them, but my mind was still at my desk. At that moment there was no space left in me for what they were feeling.
We all thought we’d be different. We did everything we could not to follow in our parents’ footsteps, only to shamefully hear them again, speaking in our tone.
The reason behind the shame is simple, and that’s what makes it heavy. We know our children’s prefrontal cortex is way underdeveloped and only reaches full development around the age of 25. It’s unreasonable to expect them to regulate their emotions until then. But try telling this to an emotionally exhausted parent after a day of volatile emotional swings. Do you see what I just did here? I can cognitively deconstruct the entire emotional car wreck. Do you think it helps me when I lose my cool after our child disrespects their mother, my wife, the love of my life? Not a tiny bit.
The aftermath is well known: a child sobbing, parents feeling ashamed. And shame doesn’t give us wiggle room. It takes the little we had left, so the next afternoon starts with lowered eyes already. No matter how tough you think you are, your child will push your emotional triggers like nothing else, and we’re both professional helpers who’ve seen some shit. Most of us were never shown how to do this part, and we’re learning it while our child pushes every button we have.
I’m not going to tell you to become fully Zen. That’s unrealistic, and whoever promises you’ll never lose your shit as a parent is lying to you.
I think what matters more is three connected things: how often it happens, correction, and emotional availability.
Correction is the easiest, if you’ve practiced it enough. Parents are humans too, and we’re allowed to make mistakes, such as raising our voices. Owning them and apologizing makes a big difference in my eyes. Realize, own it, then make amends, that’s it.
Frequency works like consistency. You don’t have to put in 100% every day. If you’re on an upward trend, I salute you. It’s okay to slip. Just be aware and make an effort to do better.
Emotional availability is the trickier one. It’s easy when all is well. But what do you do when your child loses it for the fourth time in a morning? That’s when it gets interesting. It would be nice if we could still kneel down to their level and open our arms for a warm embrace, to be there in deep acceptance, without trying to change their behavior, letting them feel the entire range of their emotions. I admit this one is the hardest.
Here’s what I’m practicing when things start to tip:
Notice your signal. I usually feel it in my entire body, it becomes tense. The contrast is quite noticeable as I’m usually a relaxed guy.
Name and feel it. I’m angry, for example. If you can locate the emotion in your body, that’s even better. When I’m angry I feel immense heat within my body that’s center is around my stomach. But that’s me. Feel yours.
Exhale is nice, but I have something better. If we are at home, we throw pillows to the ground. If we do it enough, laughter is guaranteed meaning we could dissolve the entire feeling.
The mantra that helped me once I realized what had been happening:
They can’t regulate their emotions yet, but I can notice mine.
When it became clear my plans were flushed, I went into their bedroom, and instead of relying on my fatherly voice once again, I did my best to comfort them. It quickly turned out that physical closeness was what they craved, so we did something that hasn’t happened in a long while. I let them fall asleep on my chest. That was common in the early baby days, but they’d rejected it for a while. For whatever reason, not that day.
Nothing was fixed that afternoon. What changed was that I stopped fighting the emotion and stayed. They don’t need me calm every minute. They need to see that heavier feelings don’t push me away.
One thing to try today
Catch one moment when you start to drift or snap. Before you respond, ask yourself:
What is happening inside me, and what does my child need from me right now?
You won’t catch it every time. That’s fine. It’s okay to slip.
Consistency builds habits, keep at it.
I think this is one of our biggest responsibilities as parents. To model emotional resilience in their presence, especially when it’s difficult. We are their entire world, their lightning rod for their emotions. But you can’t read yourself better in this topic unfortunately. I tried and I failed. Emotional resilience is a skill that needs to be practiced with somebody who can hold it for you until you can hold it for yourself. Who won’t judge you for reconnecting with your feelings, for that process is a messy one. I’m such a partner. If you’re interested in practicing emotional resilience, don’t hesitate to reach out.
It’s perfectly okay to ask for support. You don’t have to figure everything out on your own. While I believe everyone is their own best expert, I’m also a big believer in asking for help to create change together. It’s comforting to have someone by our side as we go through transitions. If you’re feeling motivated to expand your comfort zone and curious about how I can support you on your journey, let’s talk.
