As a clinical
psychologist, I spend a lot of time sitting with people who are struggling
because of something a well-meaning person did for them. Not to them. For
them.
There's a term in
the literature for this. It's called idiot compassion; it comes from Buddhist
psychology and means compassion that prioritises someone's immediate comfort
over their long-term wellbeing. It feels like kindness. It looks like kindness.
And it is almost always motivated by kindness. But it's also motivated by a
human need to not feel helpless.
As parents of
teenagers, we are particularly vulnerable to this. Our teenager comes home and
something has gone wrong. Maybe something has happened in their friend group,
or they couldn't answer the maths question, and something in us shifts into
problem-solving. We reassure, we rationalise, we problem solve. They seem okay
and we feel better. This is the short-term gain.
The cost of idiot
compassion is the subtle message it sends our teenagers over time. The message
that they needed to be rescued. That they couldn't handle it on their own. That
we didn't trust them to.
Psychologist
Wendy Mogel, who spent decades working with adolescents, talks about how
over-involved parenting quietly communicates to teenagers that the world is a
place they can't manage without us. Which is the opposite of what we're trying
to do.
Wise
compassion is the alternative, but it is much harder. Especially
with teenagers, especially when they are genuinely upset, especially when they
are being rude. Wise compassion is essentially staying in the room without
taking over the room. It's tolerating their distress without trying to resolve
it. It's saying something like that sounds really painful and not
following it up with a solution.
Research on
adolescent development is consistent on this. Teenagers who are allowed to
navigate difficulty, with a regulated adult nearby, build genuine resilience. The capacity to face something hard and
discover they didn't fall apart. Carol Dweck's work on growth mindset points to
the same thing. Struggling and
persisting through difficulty is precisely how our teens develop the belief
that they are capable. We cannot give them that belief by protecting
them from the very thing that creates it.
A helpful question might be: Whose discomfort am I
managing right now — theirs or mine?

Comments
Post a Comment