The counselors at the boys' elementary school frequently do activities with the students to help develop their character and improve self-regulation.
G recently came home with this paper:
It is am important reminder for him of what is and is not within his control. He often likes to think that he can control others and gets frustrated when he can't.
When I asked him about it, he talked about Wilda Rudolph and how she had to control her mood when things didn't go her way.
I felt compelled to remind him that how for him and for me, it can be hard to control our moods and that is why we take our medicine. We are the types of people for whom controlling our moods can be a challenge. Like Wilma Rudolph, we have to use assists to help us out. She used leg braces and did therapy and had massages for years, and I suspect that she also dealt with pretty intense pain even when she could use her legs to achieve in the Olympics. The stories of our inspirational figures often leave out just how much unbearable pain and frustration they had to deal with even in the midst of their great accomplishments.
As much as I like that we promote self-regulation among kids, and we probably should do so more among adults, it is a bit of a fallacy to tell kids that they can control themselves. They should strive to do this. We should give them logical consequences for when they can't.
But if I had to complete this chart, the word "mood" would be written half inside the circle of control and half outside.
The fallacy that we can control our brains is one reason why people fight so hard to admit they have mental health issues. They believe they should be able to control their brains, when the hard reality is that the brain is just like any other organ of the body. It doesn't always work the way we want it to. A kidney may not remove toxins as it should. A pancreas may not produce as much insulin as it should. A heart may not beat as fast or as regular as it should. And a brain may not pick up enough serotonin as it should.
But our identity, our spirit, our personality comes from our brains, and we cannot even imagine that we can't make it do exactly as we wish when we wish for as long as we wish.
I have not yet asked him what he means by "the demons" in what he cannot control, but I find it interesting that he used that phrase. I suspect he means actual "demons." He is knee-deep in intrigue about horror movies right now and would give his left leg if we allowed him to watch "It." (That ain't gonna happen.)
But for anyone with a mental health struggle, they know their demons aren't the dementors of Harry Potter fame, although they do suck the happiness out of one. The demons are inside, not floating around in the dark and fearsome skies. There are ways to quiet the demons, but they never go away. They don't fly off back to Azkaban, never to return.
It takes a long, long, long time to accept that the demons are real, are there, have moments (or years) of quiet, but can, do and will reappear when you least expect it. So like Wilma Rudolph, you ice it, and use heat on it, and take your pain meds to reduce inflammation, and you rest, and you still achieve, but you don't do it without assists. Those assists just get lost somehow in the story.
G recently came home with this paper:
It is am important reminder for him of what is and is not within his control. He often likes to think that he can control others and gets frustrated when he can't.
When I asked him about it, he talked about Wilda Rudolph and how she had to control her mood when things didn't go her way.
I felt compelled to remind him that how for him and for me, it can be hard to control our moods and that is why we take our medicine. We are the types of people for whom controlling our moods can be a challenge. Like Wilma Rudolph, we have to use assists to help us out. She used leg braces and did therapy and had massages for years, and I suspect that she also dealt with pretty intense pain even when she could use her legs to achieve in the Olympics. The stories of our inspirational figures often leave out just how much unbearable pain and frustration they had to deal with even in the midst of their great accomplishments.
As much as I like that we promote self-regulation among kids, and we probably should do so more among adults, it is a bit of a fallacy to tell kids that they can control themselves. They should strive to do this. We should give them logical consequences for when they can't.
But if I had to complete this chart, the word "mood" would be written half inside the circle of control and half outside.
The fallacy that we can control our brains is one reason why people fight so hard to admit they have mental health issues. They believe they should be able to control their brains, when the hard reality is that the brain is just like any other organ of the body. It doesn't always work the way we want it to. A kidney may not remove toxins as it should. A pancreas may not produce as much insulin as it should. A heart may not beat as fast or as regular as it should. And a brain may not pick up enough serotonin as it should.
But our identity, our spirit, our personality comes from our brains, and we cannot even imagine that we can't make it do exactly as we wish when we wish for as long as we wish.
I have not yet asked him what he means by "the demons" in what he cannot control, but I find it interesting that he used that phrase. I suspect he means actual "demons." He is knee-deep in intrigue about horror movies right now and would give his left leg if we allowed him to watch "It." (That ain't gonna happen.)
But for anyone with a mental health struggle, they know their demons aren't the dementors of Harry Potter fame, although they do suck the happiness out of one. The demons are inside, not floating around in the dark and fearsome skies. There are ways to quiet the demons, but they never go away. They don't fly off back to Azkaban, never to return.
It takes a long, long, long time to accept that the demons are real, are there, have moments (or years) of quiet, but can, do and will reappear when you least expect it. So like Wilma Rudolph, you ice it, and use heat on it, and take your pain meds to reduce inflammation, and you rest, and you still achieve, but you don't do it without assists. Those assists just get lost somehow in the story.
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