Tell Your Stories

"Stories are the creative conversion of life itself into a more powerful, clearer, more meaningful experience. They are the currency of human contact."

~ Robert McKee

My seven year old daughter Frances and my four year old son Miles sat at the breakfast table crying as they watched their mother throw a full blown tantrum. First I yelled and screamed. Then I began slamming cupboards and drawers, slamming one drawer so hard I broke it. I picked up a wooden spoon and threw it with all my strength against the kitchen wall, breaking it too. I knew this was wrong, but I couldn't control the impulses firing in my brain and body to yell and throw things. Finally this wildfire inside me ran out of fuel.  I stood in the kitchen shaking and crying, staring at the fear in my children's eyes.

I gathered Frances and Miles up and we sat on the couch crying together. Feeling the rub of a hair shirt of shame and guilt, I held them close and apologized. I told them there was no excuse for my behavior. I said that sometimes adults have tantrums too. I felt like I was the ugliest person in the world. I felt like a witch, complete with warts and claw-like hands. I did not deserve these beautiful children.

We managed to pull ourselves together and get to school. With a  heavy heart, I said goodbye to Frances at her first grade classroom, hugging her and apologizing yet again. Then Miles and I drove to the co-op preschool he attended. I was grateful I did not have to say goodbye to him too this morning. 

By the time we arrived at Starr-King Parent Child Workshop, Miles seemed to have pretty well recovered. He made a bee line to the yard and began maneuvering earth movers and dump trucks around the safe, contained world of the the preschool sandbox. It was my work day at the co-op, and I was supposed to begin chopping vegetables and fruit for the children's snack. But before I could pick up another kitchen utensil, I nervously sought out Yolanda, the preschool director.

I did not want to tell her what I had done, but that rough cloth of shame chafed with every step. I knew I had to. I asked Yolanda if I could talk to her privately. I said I needed help. And when we went upstairs to a private room, I told her every horrible detail of that morning. She responded with unwavering understanding and acceptance. Without a trace of judgement she helped me sort through what happened and forgive myself. And she gave me tools to help my children understand too. I will always be grateful to her for being there for me. I shared one of my darkest failings with someone I trusted, and I was  redeemed. But redemption is only the beginning of this story.

Starr-King has a parent education meeting one evening a week. At the following meeting, Yolanda was explaining to parents how to handle a variety of difficult situations with children: tantrums, stubbornness, aggression. She has a way of making these interventions sound so easy, so artful. The room was silent. This was my fifth year at the co-op. I had heard this lesson many times and had had both successes and failures with these guidance techniques. But I remembered being a first year parent and feeling certain that everyone in the room had mastered the art of guidance except me.  So I raised my hand and said, Yolanda makes this all sound so easy, but none of us is perfect. Sometimes we really screw up. And when we do, it helps to share it with someone. I can tell you from recent experience that Yolanda is wonderful to talk to when you need help. 

Yolanda was about to continue her talk when my friend Patrice spoke up.  I want to hear what Charla did, she said. I shot her a look and then I looked up at Yolanda and said, Okay.  I'll tell.  And so I did. And when I finished recounting my story of yelling and breaking of kitchen items, you could feel all 50 parents breathe a sigh of relief. People began sharing difficult scenarios in their own families, and Yolanda helped us all sort through them. It was a lively discussion. For weeks afterward, parents thanked me for sharing my story and told me some their own shameful tales of parenting gone wrong.  

That was when I knew how powerful personal stories are, my stories and yours. Sharing them provides both storyteller and listener opportunities for insight, comfort, inspiration, healing, growth. Words are powerful tools. Tell your stories, especially the painful ones. The people who will listen are probably the people who need them most.