Category Archives: The Power of Words

The Preschoolers Were Acting Up, So I Gave Myself a “Time Out.” Here’s Why.

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Who Needs the Time Out More?

The transition from preschool classroom to Grandma’s car was going great- until it wasn’t.

You know. Change is hard. Especially if you’re 3 ½ (boy, let’s call him B) or 4 ½ (girl, or G) years old.

As every parent, grandparent, or caregiver knows, things with kids can change at the drop of a hat – or, in this case, an accidental head bump with a younger brother.

Suddenly no one would get into the car seats. No one was happy.

“I don’t want to get in the car seat!”
“I wanna go to your house, not our house!”

“B won’t give me the bigger bunch of grapesI”

“She touched me!!!”

Everyone under 5 was whining.

Everyone over 5 (me) was getting this close to whining – or to yelling.

The preschoolers were safely inside the car, tho nowhere near getting into the car seats. I was already late for rehearsal. I could feel myself about to lose it.

So I gave myself a time-out.

I stood outside the car’s open backseat door, watching the chaos. Then I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and rested my forehead on the car.

Weirdly, that’s what got their attention.

“What are you doing, Grandma?”

“I’m giving myself a timeout. So I don’t start yelling.”

And I started counting to 20.

At about number 14, B was in his car seat. Yay! I buckled him in, and moved around to the other side of the car where G was stubbornly standing,  doling out the snacks.

One down, one more to go.

No luck.

I tried the usually effective technique:

“You have two great choices here. Either you can get into the car seat yourself, or Grandma will be your helper and I’ll help you get in the seat. (Thank you, Claire Lerner’s book, Why Is My Child In Charge?). I’ll count to 10 and you can let me know your decision.”

All of this said, as best as I could manage, in a loving and nonjudgmental tone.

This acting challenge was getting really difficult.

And, by the time I got to 9 – counting painfully slowly – I could see that it wasn’t going to work.

G  just wanted to win this one, and her own indecision and stubbornness were adding to her own stress – not to mention mine.

So I said this:

“I’m going to give myself a timeout until my mad mood goes away and I don’t feel like yelling anymore. I really hope you’ll be in your car seat by then. But if you aren’t then at least I’ll be able to help you into the seat gently.”

I turned away from G, took deep breaths and counted to 20. At 15, I said to myself (out loud, so G could hear):

“Gee, I sure hope G is in her seat by the time I get to 20.”

At number 19, she climbed in.

Score one for Grandma…and also for G, who had made the decision herself, without (I think) feeling like she had lost some battle of wills.

I think I discovered, quite by accident, another use of the “timeout.”:

By taking one for myself, I may have shown the kids that timeouts are not punishments, but rather opportunities to regroup and take responsibility for one’s own mood.

At least I hope so.

But it worked. Even if G had not gotten into the car seat, at least I showed her, by example, how I realized I had to recognize, and take control of, my own feelings.

I sure hope it works next time.

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Are We Foolish to Hope? To Trust?

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It’s common to see optimism as foolishness. Because
not everything “works out”—at least, not the way we pictured it.

Our specific hopes and dreams may turn out to have been, well, incorrect.
Oh, no, not that!
But Trust is about more than wishing for something specific and then getting mad at a world that doesn’t deliver what you ordered.

Trust, or a clearer definition of Optimism, is about the bigger picture.

It’s also the belief that your own behavior can change some things—like putting on your seat belt to prevent serious injury should there be an accident.

It’s not the blind belief that you are immune to the actions of others (like
the other driver who ran the red light).

In fact, despite rumors to the contrary, optimists are folks who are willing to do the hard work to prove themselves right—and accept when
the outcome they visualized might have to be altered.

Yes, Positive Thinking does rely on hope to some extent—but it doesn’t omit personal responsibility.

All Will Be Well.
Somehow.

All Will Be Well does not absolve us of all responsibility to do our best,
or to learn from mistakes. It’s just meant to address the needless anxiety and doubt that comes after we’ve done all we can do, learned from it, and fixed what we can.

And then…choosing (gulp) optimism.
Yes, optimism. All Will Be Well. Just maybe not the way I expected it
to be.

  • excerpt from Happier Made Simple: Chapter Five, T is for Trust.
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Can Words Help Us Mid-Panic Attack?

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Last week I experienced my first panic attack. Ever.

At least, that’s what the internet says it was.

All I know is: my body took over my brain. My heartbeat was too fast, too loud, too strong. My limbs were trembling. My mind and my heart were both racing; nausea took over my digestive system. I was one step away from asking my husband to take me to the Emergency Room – but I had no idea what they could have done for me. I would have voted for temporary oblivion.

Instead, I talked myself off the cliff- well, I talked myself away from the edge of the cliff – using the advice from my own book.

Talk about a test of the material.

The Core Phrases are not designed to fix any serious mental illness or condition – but it was worth a try. It turned out to be enough to allow me to get some hours of sleep, and to function at work the next day.

What happened?

Background: I’ve had three surgeries on my left hip, and the last two contained some “surprises” – in one case, a damaged nerve that resulted in paralysis of the left knee for months; in another, a defect in the replacement causing it suddenly to slip out of place, leaving me to squeak like a rusty hinge with each step until emergency surgery could be scheduled.

That was two years ago, and though I don’t have full function in the leg, I can walk. I’ll take it, gratefully.

But suddenly, last week, out of nowhere: shooting pain in that hip. Like – owwww!

I can deal with pain fairly well – I gave birth to two children – but what caused the panic?

Fear. And the unknown. My body remembers sudden trauma all too well, and my inner (primal) brain just took over my logical brain.

I did not decide to have a panic attack. My fear just stepped in and took over.  It worked overtime.

To make it even more stressful, I had to be up all week at 3 AM to do a work shift (radio), and there was no understudy.

Worry layered over worry – and pain, and nausea.

So I did the only thing I could do -I took my own advice. I lay there, trembling, and focused on my breath. I tried to take air all the way in. With each inhale, I started repeating the two phrases that seemed helpful through the fear:

All Will Be Well. (Core Phrase #4, Trust)

and

Whatever Happens, I’ll Handle It Somehow. (Core Phrase #7, Esteem)

Did I miraculously get all better? No. But the ship turned around enough so that I stopped spiraling, and didn’t make myself worse.

I repeated those phrases over and over until, mercifully, I fell asleep. I repeated them again at midnight when my fear woke me up again, and got three more hours of sleep. I was able to get up, walk (with a walker) to work, and get the job done. And research my symptoms to understand what my body had decided to do.

I’ll confirm at my orthopedic surgeon appointment tomorrow, but I think the hip pain is muscular (a muscle that rests on the sciatic nerve), and the rest of the episode was, indeed, my body in panic mode.

With any luck, this is treatable. With more luck, non-surgically.

But in the meantime, I know how to talk myself away from the cliff’s edge. Words work.

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