Sacred pause

It wasn’t anything crazy. It was just an entire Sunday stretching before me with no routine or plans, my son's refusal to leave the house, and the knowledge that I really had no control over how the day went.

As I mentioned in my email last week, we have been leaning into supporting William (my younger son) through the PDA lens.

And this comes with tradeoffs that I know you are familiar with.

Providing nervous system safety to him means that while he is on his ipad, I am not trying to do other things I need to do like laundry, return phone calls, or the dishes.

I am making food to his specifications, which means meatballs for breakfast, or fried fish bites two minutes before bedtime.

Letting him eat in his bed – or on my new couch after he insists that his big heavy blanket he wraps himself in will protect the fabric – means crumbs, and then plates that I have to ferry to the sink.

It can feel like too much to accommodate sometimes. And it definitely brings up some PTSD from the hardest moments of his older brother's burnout 4-5 years ago.

So last Sunday, I reached a moment where I lost my cool.

William had decided to use a hammer to crack open a stepping stone we had unearthed from our now defunct raised-bed garden.

With his little glasses and focus, he set himself up in the front yard.

I had been trailing him all day, and wanted to rest my feet, so I brought a folding chair, some ice water, and a book.  

As soon as I settled he a) decided that he was done hammering, and b) took my water and dumped it into the grass with a smile.

I felt a surge of frustration, wanting to scream – what is wrong with you!?  Instead, I growled at my husband that I was sick of our life, an indirect criticism of what William had just done that I know he perceived. 

As I watched his little face fall, and his body turn in towards his dad, I remembered the skill that I teach and practice: The Sacred Pause. 

So I stopped. Stopped talking. Stopped grumping. And walked myself into the house for a moment to cool off. 

I stationed myself a little away from William with my book.  And when I was back to my center, I invited him back onto the ipad and to be near me. 

So what is this Sacred Pause, you ask? 

I like to think about it as a skill that helps you start to master the smallest and most practical unit of meditation.

For many of us – myself included – even guided meditation can feel like too much. Taking 20 minutes a day to practice noticing our bodily sensations, thoughts, and emotions without judgement is just too overwhelming and frankly, impossible with our PDA kids and teens around. 

Especially if you are in the thick of burnout or if dropping into your body is too scary and painful (trauma, anyone?). 

Here is what we can do when we are starting to explore mindfulness and what has been helpful for the parents I work with. 

First, we can approach the Sacred Pause over long time horizons, bit by bit, and practice different layers depending on what our own nervous system allows. 

Month One

First, simply practice throughout your day NOT DOING ANYTHING for 3-5 seconds, when you would normally react (if it is safe to do so).

Like for example, when your PDA child takes an egg out of the fridge and throws it out the window at the neighbors house.

Pause. Say Nothing. 

You might start with pausing for one second.

As you practice, notice how you can extend one second to two seconds. This means not speaking, doing, reacting, just pausing. That's it. 

You may be surprised at how hard this is!

Month Two

As you get more used to this, you might use those few seconds of the Sacred Pause to turn inward and start noticing – what does it feel like in my body, heart or mind during this pause?

Just observe without judgment.

You can greet what you find with neutrality:

Oh, hello RAGE!

Oh, hello tightness in my chest!

Oh, welcome fear that my child will never have friends, be independent or have a job.

(This is the "awareness" part of a mindfulness meditation). 

Month Three

Finally, if and when you are ready, you can add in bringing compassion, unconditional love, and non-judgment to what you find.

For example, in this stage, in the 3-5 second Sacred Pause, you can bring your hand to your heart (or imagine light embracing you), and whispering aloud or silently – This belongs. 

This belongs as part of my human experience.

The more you do this, the easier it becomes to be non-reactive even when you feel like screaming all the expletives at your spouse or PDA child or teen at the top of your lungs. 

And before you know it, you may have mastered the most basic unit of mindfulness meditation and woven it throughout your day. You will notice things start to shift in ways you never imagined, especially with your PDAer.