Dear Rachel,
There is childhood trauma for my young adult child that hasn’t been fully worked through. And now that he is far away and I can’t hug him and support him in that tangible way, what can be done? Words often feel insufficient.
Dear Long Distance Parent,
I hear two questions in these scant 42 words. First: How do I support and connect with an adult child who’s left home when tangible gestures were once our way? And, second: What might support look like given unprocessed trauma in his childhood?
In his book, “The Body Keeps the Score,” trauma expert Bessel van der Kolk writes: “Trauma leaves traces on our minds and emotions, on our capacity for joy and intimacy, and even on our biology and immune systems.” Consider, if you haven’t already, encouraging your adult child to get support to process traumatic events with a skilled and caring professional so he can begin to experience life from a place of more choice and ease. And, given the deep tethers between a mother and child, you may benefit from support too, dear parent.
Now, long distance gestures of care. My friend’s mother once sent her and her young adult siblings cards on every holiday known to humans, save for a few British banking holidays. On St. Patrick’s Day, she sneaked words of mom-warmth into a green, spangly shiny card, no Irish heritage required. Groundhog Day, Earth Day, Presidents Day: all fair game. She wanted to let her kids know she was thinking about and loving them from afar. And, as we know, a mother’s love is laced with hope. This card-sending mom’s particular hope was that her daughter, circa late 1990s Durango, would move out of the leaking, uninsulated, window-scarce Quonset Huts (replaced by the Forest Avenue townhomes) and get a real job.
I suggest you start sending your son regular cards, each with notes rotating one of the following: something specific you appreciate about him; treasured memories from his childhood; something you regret from his upbringing and how you imagine it impacted him (focusing on his experience without justifications of yours or others’ behavior); and, acknowledgments of his strengths. These all say: I see you; you are known; you matter; and you are appreciated. These gestures can pair well with the healing work he may seek on his own, while broadcasting the hope embedded in your love that he feels the long distance support and connection.
Dear Rachel,
How do I talk to a teenage boy so I make him feel like a man and not alienate him?
Dear Boy Mom,
It’s true you spent many days keeping this child from inserting his plump toddler fist into unknown dogs’ mouths, and many nights dialing the on-call pediatric nurse to discern if (insert: cryptic symptom) was cause for concern. Essentially, you saved his life over and over (which is the technical definition of mother). It can be hard to transition from this earlier work to seeing your child as a whole human with his own dreams, desires and purpose. And yet, this is your new work.
Shine your light of warm curiosity onto him. Listen more than talk. Ask open-ended questions like, “Tell me more about your interest in driving across the U.S. with no particular plan,” even if inside you’re screaming “You could die!” When you notice the urge to correct, explain or litigate your excellent case, take a deep breath and discern if you understand where he’s coming from. Get really good at this move: “It sounds like you’re wanting an adventure and to face some unknowns as a way to grow resilience. Is that right?” Your understanding does not equal agreement. But it does convey care and interest in his world.
And your truth matters, too! Share it scrubbed clean of judgments and blame. “Son, I have some anxiety thinking of your summer plans. I want to know you’ll be as safe as possible and that we can stay in touch. Can we talk about what this could look like?”
And perhaps the technical definition of mother of adolescents is: accepting that we can neither save nor change our children, but we can build trust and understanding, one convo at a time.
Rachel Turiel is a Nonviolent Communication Mediator and Coach who supports people to hear each other and work things out. Submit a question at rachelbturiel@gmail.com
