Listen to this post ...
I was reminded what quality time means. I noticed my 17-year-old becoming more withdrawn, so I invited him to breakfast. It’s usually the five of us that venture out, making this a unique opportunity for both of us.
We laughed, talked, and gave each other complete attention for an hour.
There’s so much more to him than I realized. In part because I’ve missed how much his brothers talk for him, interrupt him, etc.
Chronic brain fog can blind me to the most important things it seems. My focus easily preoccupied with my day to day challenges.
Grateful a little “we” time was able to bring so much to light.
An important note. I had a list of questions I wanted answers to, questions about how he’s thinking, doing, and feeling.
But I didn’t ask them. These questions came from a place of worry, and could have come off as an interrogation. That would have put him in the position of having to comfort my worry with reassurance.
I didn’t want him taking care of me, it was important he understood there was no one more important to me than him right then.
Instead of twenty questions, I committed to listening deeply. Allowing for conversation to be organic so any subject that arose was welcome. Amazingly, my questions were answered.
Ever notice how often you answer your own questions when you’re talking with a skilled listener?
You can also get answers by being one. People show you who they are constantly. What they say, do, read, watch and so on.
It doesn’t take a debriefing to know what someone needs. Watching them live their lives speak volumes when you take the time to tune in.
Not easy when you’re riding the chronic pain train. Yet, it’s a reason to be more vigilant.
My son has a lot going for him, it’s clear he needs more opportunities to talk things out, so he can get clearer in his mind about things.
I wonder if I know anyone else who does that.
We have more opportunities to impact our children than endless lectures like the ones we were raised on.
By being present with another, in a way that clearly conveys, “I’m here with you, and only you. I care about how you think, and feel. I want to hear about your troubles, and celebrate your successes. We’re creating this moment together.”
Something like that. Here’s to more intentional moments together.
Listen to this post … As someone living with Autism, and ADHD. My bandwidth (the amount of information I can