Honour your Spazz.

I was called a Spazz many, many times as a kid. You would think that hearing that word would hurt more coming from peers than from my brother Philip, but you'd be wrong. It hurt every time I heard it, no matter who said it. The fact that it hurt to hear only upset me more and I would find myself in a downward spiral of anger and crying and wishing the ground would open up and swallow me so that I could get away from the embarrassment and trod-on feelings.


I'll never forget all the times I lost it in elementary school because I couldn't be on the same team as one of my friends during gym class. It was always so hard for me and always so incredibly embarrassing, but I couldn't keep it together no matter how I tried. Invariably, the friend would simply distance herself from me until I calmed down, because who wants to be associated with the Spazz? I certainly didn't.


Most of my classmates likely assumed I was just a crazy control freak. Of course I liked to be in control, but I didn't even feel in control of myself. No, it was mostly the fear of being left out or left behind. All my life, my anger has largely been a response to my fears.

Over the years I developed some coping mechanisms. I would try to only freak out while alone. I would hide my true feelings no matter how hard my inner Spazz was raging. And rage she did. And most painful of all, I would reserve my best outbursts for the most important people in my life. It seemed that the more someone loved me, the more likely they were to meet the Spazz. Over the years and through lots of conversations and introspection I came to believe that coping mechanisms are just ways of avoiding the real issues. I'd been putting duct tape over the Spazz's mouth for years, but she was still kicking.

Instead of treating the Spazz like the red-headed stepchild, I needed welcome her into the family. I am the Spazz and the Spazz is me. She's never gone away, just ask my husband. Pretending she didn't exist just made her work harder to be seen and I recently realized what that actually means: I've been suppressing a part of myself, hoping it will just go away.

This doesn't mean you'll soon be seeing me freaking out in the middle of a grocery store or running down the street screaming my head off (two things I've pictured myself doing when I've been frustrated and trying to keep calm), but I hope it means that I will listen to myself more often instead of trying to fit myself into a mould I've created. I can't discount my fears, insecurities and frustrations. To do so is to deny the part of me that needs to be reassured, bolstered and affirmed. To put it simply, the Spazz just wants to be heard.

And the reason I'm trying so hard to figure this out? Well, to honour my inner Spazz is to honour everyone's inner Spazz. I need to be willing to hear everyone out and not think about whether what they're saying benefits me or hinders me. I just need to hear them. 

If you've spent any time reading this blog, you know that most things come back to my kids. I've been spending a lot of time and energy these past few days trying to figure out why Sonja is acting out so much. The place I kept coming back to was the cycle of punishment and reward and how neither of these things seemed at all effective. I inevitably end up angry and Sonja's behaviour deteriorates even further. So I'm working on removing the punishment-and-reward part and also the getting-angry part. And for some crazy reason, talking to my kid is working. Don't get me wrong, we've always talked to Sonja, but lately I've felt like she doesn't respect me. I've even found myself asking her (remember, she's three), "Why don't you respect me?" You can guess how well that conversation went. One thing I know about respect: if you have to ask for it, you know you ain't got it. 

Some people might read this and think it's a lot of" touchy-feely, mumbo-jumbo parenting". I prefer to think of it as "not-losing-my-shit-in-front-of-my-kids parenting". Spazz, I hear you, I  respect you and your fears are all valid. Now take a deep breath and hold on tight, because we are in this thing together.