We love our children more than anything, and we want to be good, gentle, steady, present parents for them.
And then, sooner or later, we meet parts of ourselves we never expected to meet.
We shout, though we promised ourselves we wouldn't.
We pull away exactly when our child needs us most.
We're flooded by crying, by anger, by clinging or by resistance.
We know what the right thing to do is, and still can't manage to do it in the moment of truth.
And then come the guilt, the shame, the helplessness, and with them the questions:
Why is this so hard?
What is the right thing to do now?
Maybe something in me isn't right?
Maybe something in my child isn't right?
Most parents today are not suffering from a shortage of information.
Quite the opposite.
It seems there has never been a generation of parents who knew so much about what children need, and at the same time felt so often that they weren't managing to give it to them.
We know it's better not to shout. We know we're supposed to hold space, set boundaries, regulate, remain the responsible adult.
But knowing what is right to do doesn't always mean we'll manage to do it in the moment when it's hard for us.
The gap between knowing and doing is not necessarily a sign that we haven't learned enough. Sometimes it is a sign that our nervous system is still learning.
I don't teach parents how to be parents.
I help them understand why being a parent is sometimes so hard.
And this is exactly where our path in the community begins.
Not in another attempt to know more.
But in an attempt to understand more.
To understand why we react the way we react.
Why it is our children, of all people, who reach the places almost no one else touches.
What our children are telling us through their behaviour.
And what our behaviour tells about us.
Because parenthood is not a test of knowledge.
It is a living meeting between a child and a parent, between needs and feelings, between two nervous systems, and between the present we are living and the story each of us carries inside.
And when we begin to understand that meeting, something can soften.
Not because everything is suddenly easy.
But because what is happening to us begins to make sense.