I was watching a joyful movie the other day, that surprisingly turned horrific in an instant; I mean, like, seriously, in a blink of an eye; one of those types of horrors that just makes your stomach churn as if you just won't be able to un-see what you just saw and un-hear what you just heard.

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The movie? A home video of my kids. 

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The video was of my son when he was just over 3 years old. I walked quietly into his room to catch him excitingly dancing to the children's song "Oh Susanna!" He's dancing in circles, dancing with stuffed toys and animals; and just having a blast on his own. I walked out of the room and sat on the couch not far away with the camera rolling, to catch him running out of the room, calling for me; requesting my help in his kid jibberish. What he was asking was for me to go back into the room and put the same song back on because it had finished and was on to the next song. So I stand up to walk back to the room and he  runs ahead of me so that he can he could point to the TV to ensure that I knew he wanted to hear the Oh Susanna track again - he even knew what number it was on the screen. 

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"What is it? You want to put Oh Susanna on again?" I said.

"Yeah, yeah - Susanna." he said, almost in a Scooby Doo-like voice.

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I clicked back to the Oh Susanna track and off he was again in dance mode. Circling, hopping, skipping, and just having his own hoedown in his head. I pretend to leave the room back to the living room, but, instead, just stay tucked in the corner to continue recording him. And before the song begins to end, I go back to the living room and keep recording.

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And here he comes running out of the room, calling me; requesting for my help in his kid jibberish. Once again, he wanted me to replay the song. So I get up and he darts back to the room so that he can point to the TV to ensure that I knew which track to select because he wanted to hear Oh Susanna again. And so I clicked on the track and the song started again, and he jumps right back into his mental hoedown - dancing and galloping. And once again, I pretend to leave but stay tucked away and continue recording. 

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This time, as he is skipping in circles, he accidentally knocks over the small space heater which is on the floor and plugged into the wall. These type of space heaters have some sort of auto-shut off mechanism when it is knocked over. And so, he notices that he knocked it over and he goes over to pick it up and place it in its original position. Milliseconds later, he also notices that it has now shut off, and so he reaches for the knob to turn it back on. 

 

This is the horror I saw: myself. 

 

As he motioned towards the knob to turn on the heater, I barked at him - no other way to put that and it definitely was not a Scooby Doo bark. It was a "get your hands off that immediately type bark" almost as if someone was attempting to break into my house. 

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Because he didn't know I was still there recording him, my son jerked frantically, frightened by my bark. He immediately left the heater alone and continued dancing.  

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Not even a minute passed, when he walked over to the TV and pressed one of the buttons, which happened to turn it off. 

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I barked again - "Hey! Don't do that. Don't touch that - you just dance." Once again, he frantically moved his hands away and went back to dancing. 

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I felt like a monster when I saw that. I felt like a disgrace. 

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My son was having a great time at that moment- listening to a song that I played for him numerous amount of times, and to which I had certainly danced for him a numerous amount of times. And with a snap of a finger, I had taken that moment away from him. And even worse (and more deeply), I had instilled something much greater within him: a fear of his dad.

 

Now if you were to ask me then, why I had that reaction I would have told you:

 

#1. Because I didn't want him to hurt himself.

#2. Because I preferred that he feared the precautions I wanted him to adhere to.

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The heater is quite understandable: It's is small electronic device that could be a fire hazard. And the TV... well, that was nonsense - I just didn't want him to touch the TV buttons.

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With both instances, my parenting approach was predominately inherit - If you wanted to get your point across, you did it by yelling or spanking. I didn't care how much fun he was having, I wanted to make sure that he didn't engage in certain things - and I wanted to make sure that he knew it the first go-round.

 

As I watched the video (in self-loathing), I easily determined his thought process behind his actions. With the heater - my son was just trying to put the heather back the way it was before he accidentally knocked it over. He very carefully picked it up and placed it as it was... and he was just going to turn it back on again (pretty smart and considerate for that age). And with his pressing of the TV buttons, he was either trying to play the song again himself (after watching me do it for him) or he was trying to turn the volume up. Watching that video, I wish I would have taken the time to support his curiosity of the TV functions, and I wish I would have supported his recognition and consideration of picking up the heater after knocking it over. I realize this now, of course, because of my progression as a parent in being patient, attentive, and supportive - and also because my son continues to be curious in the details of how things function, and he is very kind and considerate.

 

But what I also realize now is the psychological harm that I placed on my son with my aggressiveness. In his current age, I can see in him the same psychological struggles I had in myself from that style of parenting. 

For instance, whenever I ask him a general question, I notice that he struggles to find the (perfect) appropriate words and explanation for me that I would deem sufficient; He appears frantic. Also, whenever he is questioned on why he made a particular (incorrect or unfortunate) decision, he becomes nervous and fearful of the consequences. 

 

I guess that is what made the video so horrific to me. It is the fact that my actions had an affect on him - now almost - 8 years down the line. My (inaccurate) attempts at disciplining and setting restrictions had evolved into a more complex mental and emotional issue that was going to take a more thoughtful, and strategic effort in solving.

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When I refer to this writing piece as "healing the wounds", I want to specifically point out that there is no timetable for this. Wounds can be healed immediately, or they can having a lasting affect. And in connection with parenting, and how long does parenting last, and when is our job as a parent over? I believe that parenting is truly a life-long dedication. In one instance, if you have instilled negative traits in your child due to your behavior, you should be obligated to parent and help your children until you have healed (or at least fully attempted to) that which you have wronged. 

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In my defense I have, to this day, worked mindfully to develop my parenting skills to a positive and encouraging manner for my kids in order to prevent this type of continued damage to their personal and behavioral growth. This type of self-reflection and understanding has also allowed me to recognize my faults as well as my successions - which, in turn, allows me to share it with others. 

 

I had a talk with my son after watching that video to discuss how I was wrong with my decision making, to clarify WHY I behaved that way, to ask him to consider recognizing that I no longer think or behave in that way, and most importantly - how we can heal that trauma and develop it into personal strengths.

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I heard motivational speaker Les Brown say, "are you going through it, or are you GROWING through it." As a parent, when we make mistakes, we shouldn't get stuck on it. We should allow for self-forgiveness and look hopeful towards growth. Self-reflection is a good tool for this approach. It's okay to get down on yourself for your faults or failures, but it is so much more important to seek development through it for the sake of yourself and your children - regardless of how long it may take.           

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