Todays Parenting Lacks Boundaries and Discipline

What has happened to the parent–child relationship in today’s American family? I don’t know if any of you are as alarmed as I am, but I believe the lack of boundaries and discipline coupled by the ridiculously excessive electronic stimulation in today’s society is fueling an undeniably dangerous path for our children. This trajectory is producing a plethora of disrespectful, self-serving, and unyielding juveniles who will eventually be at the helm of our country’s leadership. The manner in which many of them are being groomed is enough to scare the bejeebers out of me.

In my opinion, an overwhelming number of today’s parents are entirely too concerned with being their children’s friends rather than their parents. That’s not to say you can’t have fun with your kids and enjoy time together, but kids need boundaries. They need discipline, structure, consistency, and a level of predictability. Children need to understand that their parents are the ones in control. Healthy boundaries, understood expectations, consistent consequences, and precise parent/child roles create a home environment where children feel safe and protected. Having these elements in place also promotes a household atmosphere that is reliable, calm, peaceful and orderly.

A friend of mine yells most of the time. It doesn’t matter if it’s a normal conversation or a heated argument with her husband; the volume level is consistently on the maximum level. The same characteristic has been groomed into their children. They all yell….all the time. It’s the noisiest, most chaotic environment I have ever been in. The word “no” in their house translates into “if you bug me enough, I’ll eventually give in and you can have what you want.” The manner in which their oldest daughter speaks to them just makes me cringe. She is disrespectful, mean-spirited at times, and whiny beyond what I am able to convey. It never ceases to amaze me how they can complain about their daughter; however they are not willing to establish and stand firm in appropriate boundaries, expectations, and consequences for her behavior. Rather, they merely shoulder the abuse or snap back at her in an elevated tone which merely fuels the dysfunction. What I see is an adult daughter who is failing to develop the necessary skills she requires to succeed in the real world. She is being taught that if you want to be heard, you must yell or whine and that “no” is negotiable.

While it is not for me to run their household or tell them how to raise their kids, it is for me to establish my personal boundaries when it comes to how their children treat me. I can say with complete honesty that NONE of my friends’ children treat me in the same manner in which they treat their parents. Why? Because they understand my boundaries and expectations and that level of behavior is not acceptable.

My husband and I were recently attending a family-friendly dinner gathering at the home of another couple. The kids were running around yelling, screaming, whining, and doing the opposite of what they were being told to do. As their behavior continued to escalate, the response from their parents was to reinforce instruction in a very calm and friendly manner. “….If you don’t stop, I’m going to…,” was continually being offered; however none of the so-called consequences ever came to fruition. At no time throughout the evening did the violators pay any price for their disregard to parental instruction. What kid would do as their parents told them to if they understood that the penalties were without merit? If you could drive as fast as you wanted with no regard to the speed limits knowing that police officers would merely administer a verbal warning for every offence, wouldn’t you continue to break the law? More than likely since there would be no consequence of any significant nature. Oh, you may be slightly inconvenienced as the officer verbally chastised you, but in the scheme of things it would be relatively painless. In other words, laws would merely take on the form of suggestions and you are free to do as you please because there is no real consequence for violating the boundaries set forth.

If you struggle with boundaries in your own life, know that this is precisely what you are modeling for your children. Without boundaries your children’s ability to learn is severely compromised and will generally derive at a much greater cost down the road. Children that lack respect for authority often times become adults who experience enormous challenges in the workplace, school, and relationships as a whole.

A friend of mine has an 11 year old son whose is completely out of control at home; however she continues to excuse his rambunctious behavior by telling me how well-mannered he is in the classroom. Ummm….Hello?! Of course he’s good in school! The teacher has boundaries and expectations in place with decisive consequences for said offences to behavioral outbursts and/or rule violations. If you would implement similar expectations at home and consistently hold him accountable when/if he violates those boundaries, your home life would be dramatically altered to the benefit of all involved.

How many times have you been in a restaurant and witnessed a child throwing a fit at the dinner table disrupting all those in the near vicinity? I’m not talking about a little outburst; I’m referring to those that go on and on and on. In my experience it happens all too often. I find myself wanting to lean over and ask the parents to please remove their child from the dining area and address their unacceptable behavior in a non-public arena rather than continuing to erode the other patrons desired experience around them. Generally speaking, I tend to witness parents consoling the child by diverting their attention with some sort of electronic device that will curb their outburst, or worse yet….they ignore it! What ever happened to teaching your children appropriate behavior and expectations through self-control, boundaries, and consequences without electronic diversions taking on the form of parenting? It’s not as if either of my boys acted up in a public place when they were young, but when they did, we immediately took a trip to the bathroom where I informed them that their behavior would not be tolerated. If it continued, I would go to the car with my child until such time as they garnered a level of self-control, understanding their behavior was not acceptable before returning. Nowadays it floors me to see the number of kids who have their head buried in portable devices rather than engaging in a family event. If your intent is to submerge your child into a world of battery-operated stimuli, then why not hire a babysitter and leave them at home saving us all the frustration?

Do any of you ever miss the “Because I said so” mentality? It worked for me as a kid and continues to work for me as a parent. It’s like the word “no” has been deleted from the parental vocabulary. I don’t feel the need to justify my reasons to my child for every decision I make; after all I am the parent. In the adult workplace if you’re told to do something, you do it; otherwise you will find yourself jobless. Wouldn’t this be equivalent of an adult on-the-job example of because my supervisor said so? Those same principles begin at home. Children are taught to respect authority. By not implementing authoritative respect in your children’s lives, you are in essence teaching them to not respect authority in adulthood. As a parent, you then find yourself wondering why your adult children are ill-equipped to navigate real life circumstances.

When my oldest son was 17, he came home one day with a group of new friends in tow. Walking into the kitchen, he takes a look at me and in a thug-like voice says, “Wasssssup, Mahhhhhh?” I know he was trying to be cool in front of his friends, but the manner in which he spoke to me was unacceptable. With a slight chuckle coming from the motionless lips of his friends, my immediate, yet calm response to him was, “Pardon me? You must have mistaken me for one of your buddies.” I had instantaneously established a boundary line by informing him and his friends that he will address me with the respect I am due. In addition to this exchange, I made it a point to introduce myself to his new friends as Miss Michelle as I strongly believe that children have no business calling an adult by their first name; that, in and of itself, skews boundaries for children by putting adults on the same level as them. I require the use of “Ma’am and Sir” in our home when addressing or answering all adults as a show of respect. Some may disagree, but it works for us.

You see, our home is not a democracy. That’s not to say we require our children to be quiet and do as you’re told with no regard to their feelings or opinions, but ultimately my husband and I are in control, and the laws of our home start and end with us. I am not my sons’ friend, I am their mother, and my role is to raise them in a manner that will provide them with the social, authority, respect, and life skills they will need to survive in the adult world. In addition, it is my job to teach them how to establish their own boundaries when it comes to how others treat them, a level of self-discipline and strong work ethic, and moral compass with a sense of compassion and respect for humankind. Sounds like a tall order, doesn’t it? Well it is…and the disciplines begin at home. My kids are free-willed, free-spirited, yet respectful individuals who can think for themselves yet still have boundaries in place. They are offered opportunities to speak into household decisions, but they also understand the final decisions reside within the parental unit. I value and want to hear what they have to say, but I require that they do so in a healthy and respectful manner. There is no yelling or name calling that goes on in our home. Rather, communicating amongst ourselves in a way that is conducive to respect for everyone involved produces a healthy, calm, and orderly home life.

I know I’m ranting, but I am incredibly alarmed with the notion that today’s youth are being railroaded by parental disengagement through the use of electronic devices and lack of authoritative, parental responsibility. Rather than teaching basic life-skills, boundaries, social interaction, self-discipline, and respect for authority, children are provided with electronic distractions which do nothing but enable them to emotionally and intellectually extricate themselves from reality. Life is about relationships and the experiences derived from them. The first relationship our children experience is that of the parent/child relationship. I consider this to be the most critical of all as it sets us on a life path that determines how well we succeed with those that follow, including self-relationship.

I can’t begin to tell you how many times over the year’s parents, teachers and extended family members have gone out of their way to share with me what respectable, well-mannered, young men my boys are. My response to them has always been, “Thank you so much! It’s a learned behavior that required a tremendous amount of discipline on my part as a parent to instill those expectations in them.” In the back of my mind I’m thinking, “You too can experience this if you’re willing to put forth the required and consistent effort!”

It is our job as parents to engage with our kids in a loving, nurturing, yet authoritative role that promotes the development of healthy boundaries, implementing and fulfilling consequences appropriately, and to provide them with the necessary life-skills that are essential to succeed in today’s society.

Though you may not completely agree with my opinions, I would be interested to hear from you regarding what seems to me to be a negative shift in the American parental roles and the effects it is having on today’s youth.

Just venting…

 

Survivors Journey Part 8 – Why did you molest me?

I don’t want to write today. Admitting that tells me I need to. I woke up angry this morning following my counseling appointment yesterday where we began talking about being molested. I don’t want to go there, I just don’t, but I know I have to; otherwise forward motion ceases and the revolving door recommences. Revolving doors merely take you right back to your place of origin unless you consciously decided to step out on the other side. I’m tired of going in circles. They give me a headache.

Fearing I will hurt my mother (as I know she reads my posts) and being looked down upon by others’ is what keeps me from wanting to talk about being molested. But how people respond to my journey is not on me. I must trust in God to deliver what you need to reap from my reluctant vulnerability. He continues to reassure me I am adequately prepared to heal from the pain and devastation of being molested. I must not allow fear to override journeys’ forward motion.

Regardless of this knowledge, I am bombarded with an overwhelming sense of shame mixed with a super-sized portion of anger. When I think about being molested, it makes me sick to my stomach. I was about eight years old when the first encounter occurred, and it was my brother at the helm of the offence. He invited me into his bedroom one summer afternoon and told me to sit on the side of his bed. He proceeded to take down his pants, exposing his genitals, and reaching down with his left hand he began stroking his penis. He giggled with excitement as the erection commenced. I knew what I was witnessing was not appropriate, but I must admit there was a level of amazement as I had never seen male genitals before. How was this physical feat possible? I loved and trusted my older brother and in no way wanted to garner his disapproval by rejecting him, so I sat there and watched until he was through, praying my mother would not catch us. From that moment on, our physical boundaries would  forever be skewed. It was three years before the next encounter would take place.

January 1978, my father left and my mother began to emotionally fall apart. It was a horrible time in my life – so confused and lonely. I was 11 ½, my brother was 13 ½. Not long after Dad’s departure, he began entering my room at night after Mom had gone to bed. At first he talked about playing games, make believe of sorts, or play acting as different characters together. His role would always be one of the dominant character, i.e. football player and the cheerleader or playing house. It seemed so strange at first and was quite uncomfortable, but this was my brother and I trusted him. Growing up, we had always been very close. Throughout my life, he protected me, garnered healthy, brotherly affection on me, and I looked up to him. I had no fear of him whatsoever. Even in the mix of all that was going on I didn’t fear him; rather I was confused but still trusting with love.

It wasn’t long before he began to manipulate our nighttime scripts. I was instructed to lie down on the bed as he assumed a position on top of me. He began dry humping and touching me. His body seemed to weigh 1000 pounds, taking with it the air I needed to survive. I felt so dirty, trapped, and alone. Why are you doing this to me? Why am I not fighting back? Can’t you see this is wrong? I don’t want to be here. Please go away, and just leave me alone… But this was my brother, and I loved him.

 

Days would pass before I was notified of his next impending visit. He would start the day by “asking me” if I would like to “play” that night. He had worded his intentions in such a way that he could deliver these messages to me in front of our mother. I know now he had no shame or remorse for what he was doing, and I was too afraid to say no. As the weeks grew into months, I tried to make excuses in an attempt to deter his desires, but my defenses began to run dry.  I was littered with messages of “You’re Not Worthy” from my father, so the last thing I wanted was to experience my brother’s rejection. I just wanted to be loved and cherished. As disgusting and dirty as I felt on the inside, I didn’t’ know what else to do but succumb to his twisted desires as the shame and guilt began to take hold. I was so vulnerable, and it was in that vulnerability that I was victimized. I had lost my voice.

By August, my parents’ divorce had been finalized, and we relocated to a new city. Thankfully, my brother’s visits had decreased following our move. Shortly after my 12^th birthday, my menstrual cycle began and with it a renewed sense of power and control filtered in. Armed with a large, bristle hairbrush, I barged into my brother’s room waving the weapon in my right hand and said, “I’m a woman now and you can’t touch me anymore. Do you understand?” He laid there in his bed, staring blankly at me. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!?” I shouted. He sheepishly agreed with a slight nod immediately before I exited the room. I had found my voice and had taken back my control. As I closed his door, I was immediately washed with overwhelming relief knowing I would not have to endure what had become his disgusting hands on me ever again. Though I rose up with hair brush in hand and drew a definitive line in the sand, the damage had been done.  As with my previous pattern of behavior, I quickly stuffed the emotions and filed the past nine months into the “You’re Not Worthy” memory folder. I then began to carry the full weight of responsibility for what happened believing it must have been my fault. Rather than directing the anger at him for his betrayal and preying on my vulnerability, I directed it toward myself for not fighting back. I was 12 years old. What did I know about dealing with trauma other than to deny it? I was merely trying to survive.

About four years ago, I felt an overwhelming need to be honest with my brother and address the hurt and anger I experienced at his hand. Thirty years had passed since the onset of his abuse, and it was time to confront my abuser as an adult. Early one morning, I drummed up enough courage to call his house and share with him my feelings as well as my reasons for not desiring any level of relationship with him. His immediate response to me was, “Jesus Christ, Michelle… that was 30 years ago! I haven’t thought about that in 30 years. Are you kidding me? That was a horrible time for all of us.” He continued to deflect any level of accountability and made me feel as if I was making a mountain out of a molehill. I guess that’s what abusers do. He was quick to ricochet personal responsibility and minimize his impact insinuating the passage of time should have been sufficient to heal the wounds. He was wrong.

The following day, I received a call from him at which time stated he never meant to hurt me and he was very confused during that time in his life. He referred to me as his “little sister,” claimed to love me, and would never intentionally hurt me. While it felt somewhat satisfying to finally hear his apologetic words, the truth is I don’t believe them. I believe he reached out in an effort to make peace with the hope that in doing so he may supersede any possible fallout within the family. Like I said, it’s just my opinion…

Here’s my truth:

I was his little sister. I trusted him and he violated that trust in the worst way.

He preyed on my vulnerability and has done so with no authentic level of personal accountability to this day.

He initiated and pursued every act of molestation, not me.

I was his victim. He knows it. I know it. God knows it.

I am not to blame for his actions in any way.

I denounce any level of shame, guilt, or responsibility for his manipulation of me. He knew better, yet he still continued to advance.

I am choosing to step out on the other side of molestations’ revolving door by allowing myself to feel and process the pain. When I am done, I will then be able to safely file this chapter of life in a healthy place of my brain that brings true closure to the once open wound. I choose to resume journeys forward motion. It is in my healing wake that my brother resides, and I’m not looking back.

Is there are area of your life where you need to take your power back?