Why All the Yelling?
Dylan is having trouble with a girl. He likes the girl. The girl likes him. They call each other “best friends.” The problem is: the girl’s parents don’t want the girl spending so much time with Dylan. They don’t want her to come over to our house anymore. They don’t want her to spend so much time texting him. And as a parent, I understand.
But I thought there might be more to it, so I emailed the parents to see if they knew something I didn’t know. Girl’s Mom admitted that she has been reading her daughter’s texts. (This is something I don’t want to do. I respect his privacy and see no reason to read his texts.) Girl’s Mom doesn’t like what’s in them. She says Dylan talks about me, about how I yell too much. My guess is, she doesn’t want Dylan over here because she thinks I’m some kind of screeching lunatic.
I am not a screeching lunatic, but I have had my moments. After our catastrophe evening on Monday, I made a new resolution that there should be NO yelling in the house. Someone told me that yelling is worse for kids than hitting them, that they will grow up to be depressed and despondent.
Dylan is already a bit depressed and despondent. And of course, it’s my fault. I yell at him too much. I yell that he needs to do his homework, put on his shoes, wear a coat, brush his hair. I yell at him to stop spinning in circles and sit down and eat. I yell at him to stop playing the same song every single day on the piano. I yell at him because I think yelling gets results. I yell at him because he doesn’t listen to me.
I yell at him because I think I’m losing control. I yell at him – which shows that I have LOST control.
So far, since Monday, I have not yelled. Not once. It is hard. It is very, very hard. I feel the fear welling up inside of me and have no idea how to let it out without yelling. Anger comes from fear. I am afraid that things will not get done, that my boys won’t know what to do when they grow up, that I will lose them.
But I am trying – really, really trying – not to yell, one day at a time. And I will keep posting on how that goes. Because while I started this blog to show what it’s like to raise a GT/LD teenager, I am realizing that raising myself is substantially more difficult – and essential.