Rejection, splitting and control
Little has spent the best part of a week ignoring me.
She’s in constant need of full control, and splitting is one of the mechanisms she uses to achieve that. I’ve written recently about the tailspin she seems to be caught up in and one of the possible triggers we’ve uncovered, and things are continuing much in that vein, with no discernible change now that our trip abroad is behind us.
I find her splitting one of the hardest behaviours to manage, as it also presses the big red button for one of my triggers: rejection. As a child I often didn’t ask for things as to me, being told ‘no’ felt worse than just going without in the first place. As an adult, it took me an episode of depression to be able to learn that it was ok to ask for things, and to request help when I needed it, rather than taking everything on myself. It’s still something I have to consciously think about though, so Little’s rejection of me stings.
Several times recently I’ve noticed she looks a little wobbly and have asked if she needs a hug,only for her to say no and then go to mama for a hug 15 seconds later, sometimes with a smug backwards glance at me for good measure. This morning she created a huge fuss because she’d come into our bed and was asked to move over a little bit further towards me so that Tiny could get in too. I was squashing her apparently, despite the fact she had twice as much space on my pillow as she’d had on mama’s.
I know the answer is to rise above it, ignore the rejection and offer extra nurture to help her learn that I will always look after her, no matter what she throws at me. Sometimes I can do it fairly intuitively; the other day she kept calling me ‘stupidhead’ so I eventually refused to answer to mummy and insisted on being called stupidhead whenever she wanted anything. Once she’d got permission to do it, suddenly the control was gone, the fun went out of it and she was asking to call me mummy again. I’ve been doing a lot of matching her intent too which has helped: ‘gosh, it must be so annoying to have such a stupid mummy. Tell me about it!’. I can usually sneak a bit of sarcasm into that one without her noticing which benefits my own mental health no end.
It turns out though that sometimes I find it really difficult to stay therapeutic in these situations. I’m having to work twice as hard to be allowed to meet her basic needs, and there’s a big part of me that wants to just shout ‘suit yourself’ and hide under a duvet. This morning at breakfast she asked mama for more cornflakes. I offered to get them for her and she looked unsure. I asked what she wanted more: cornflakes or to ignore mummy. She chose the cornflakes, after some deliberation, but it was a genuine dilemma for her. This is basically how every conversation with her goes at the moment: I feel like I’m being made to beg to be allowed to do something for her and it’s wearing me down. I’m becoming shouty mummy much more than I’d like to be, and obviously in this situation that’s pretty counterproductive.
Luckily for me, I have a day of self-care booked this weekend. It’s my Christmas present from mama, organised for me as a treat. I’ve got no idea what I’ll be doing and have been sent off with a pile of envelopes containing my instructions to open in the course of the day. It’s definitely come at the right time and hopefully I can go home with renewed therapeutic energy as who knows how long this current chapter is going to last…
She’s in constant need of full control, and splitting is one of the mechanisms she uses to achieve that. I’ve written recently about the tailspin she seems to be caught up in and one of the possible triggers we’ve uncovered, and things are continuing much in that vein, with no discernible change now that our trip abroad is behind us.
I find her splitting one of the hardest behaviours to manage, as it also presses the big red button for one of my triggers: rejection. As a child I often didn’t ask for things as to me, being told ‘no’ felt worse than just going without in the first place. As an adult, it took me an episode of depression to be able to learn that it was ok to ask for things, and to request help when I needed it, rather than taking everything on myself. It’s still something I have to consciously think about though, so Little’s rejection of me stings.
Several times recently I’ve noticed she looks a little wobbly and have asked if she needs a hug,only for her to say no and then go to mama for a hug 15 seconds later, sometimes with a smug backwards glance at me for good measure. This morning she created a huge fuss because she’d come into our bed and was asked to move over a little bit further towards me so that Tiny could get in too. I was squashing her apparently, despite the fact she had twice as much space on my pillow as she’d had on mama’s.
I know the answer is to rise above it, ignore the rejection and offer extra nurture to help her learn that I will always look after her, no matter what she throws at me. Sometimes I can do it fairly intuitively; the other day she kept calling me ‘stupidhead’ so I eventually refused to answer to mummy and insisted on being called stupidhead whenever she wanted anything. Once she’d got permission to do it, suddenly the control was gone, the fun went out of it and she was asking to call me mummy again. I’ve been doing a lot of matching her intent too which has helped: ‘gosh, it must be so annoying to have such a stupid mummy. Tell me about it!’. I can usually sneak a bit of sarcasm into that one without her noticing which benefits my own mental health no end.
It turns out though that sometimes I find it really difficult to stay therapeutic in these situations. I’m having to work twice as hard to be allowed to meet her basic needs, and there’s a big part of me that wants to just shout ‘suit yourself’ and hide under a duvet. This morning at breakfast she asked mama for more cornflakes. I offered to get them for her and she looked unsure. I asked what she wanted more: cornflakes or to ignore mummy. She chose the cornflakes, after some deliberation, but it was a genuine dilemma for her. This is basically how every conversation with her goes at the moment: I feel like I’m being made to beg to be allowed to do something for her and it’s wearing me down. I’m becoming shouty mummy much more than I’d like to be, and obviously in this situation that’s pretty counterproductive.
Luckily for me, I have a day of self-care booked this weekend. It’s my Christmas present from mama, organised for me as a treat. I’ve got no idea what I’ll be doing and have been sent off with a pile of envelopes containing my instructions to open in the course of the day. It’s definitely come at the right time and hopefully I can go home with renewed therapeutic energy as who knows how long this current chapter is going to last…
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