At Fault?

I recently noticed my toddler daughter saying “sorry” for incidents over which she had no control. She has also now approached me on multiple occasions to exclaim that something was her “fault.” The first time was when she ran and slipped on one of the papers she had strewn across the floor after I had warned her to slow down and be careful. She looked up at me and said, “My okay. That my fault mommy, not yours.” At first I was impressed that she was taking responsibility for her actions. However, she later found something she had been looking for and upon bringing it to me said “I find it. That my fault, not yours mommy.” I realized she had conflated failure and success into ownership with the misuse of “fault” for both. I recognized this as a simple misinterpretation of a word as someone new to learning language. However, it gave me pause.

My daughter’s use of the word fault made me think about the importance of the messages we tell ourselves, especially when we have young minds trying to decipher those messages alongside us. I was reminded of accomplishments I’ve had in the past where I’ve felt like I needed to either downplay them or treat them as outright failures instead, how frequently I’ve apologized for being too much or not enough. How often are the compliments we receive batted down?

When my therapist poked at why I couldn’t accept the sale of my business as a success, I told her I felt like my business could have grown so much bigger if I hadn’t been in the way sometimes. “But you started it from nothing. You did grow it. You gained an amazing reputation in the community. You were profitable, providing for your family and even hiring other staff. Your goal was to build it and sell in approximately 5 years. After 6, you sold it. That is success. Celebrate it!” I countered with “yes, but…” followed by as many excuses as I could think of to undermine my success. I was fortunate enough to come from a family where risks were encouraged (both by my family growing up, and my now husband and his parents). I was blessed to have a gracious employer who would happily bump me back up to full time if things didn’t work out. I had a husband with a steady full time job and benefits to support me. I had encouraging friends, family, and colleagues to bolster me in times of self doubt. I didn’t hire as many people or sell as many dresses as some of the other bridal stores in our area. Instead of acknowledging how proud I was, I found every reason to apologize for not living up to expectations that existed only in my own head or to downplay my role in creating a major piece of the life I had aspired to live.

Then, I heard the incorrect use of the words fault and sorry out of my daughter’s mouth and thought, I’m going to provide a better example. I had girlfriends over for wine and charcuterie. I bought a new car (one that my daughter calls stinky, because apparently at age 2 some can’t appreciate the new car smell for what it represents). I took some time to be more present with my daughter. I began writing these blog posts and sharing my story, reinvigorating my own voice. I am continuing to celebrate in my own ways and hope that as I achieve new milestones, both small and large, that I’ll be more vocal about my pride in doing so, for my sake as well as my daughter’s.

This past week I was again reminded of the power in our words and in our mindsets. My daughter told me the other night that she was scared of the shadows in her room. She asked if I could make them go away, and I told her the only way to make them disappear was to turn out her night light. As you can imagine, that was not the winning solution. Instead, we focused on why we didn’t need to be frightened by the shadows. I showed her how we controlled the way in which they danced and moved on the walls and explained that they weren’t able to “get her animals.” I explained to her that “we had the power. The shadows did not have the power.” I wasn’t sure she grasped the concept of what I was saying, but she slept through the night with seemingly no issues. The next evening before bed, she was playing on my husband’s rowing machine. She was pushing the seat back with her feet and then letting it slide forward (while we were right beside her and ready to step in if needed, don’t come at me). She said she wanted to go faster. I said, “Luna you are the one in control of how fast you are going. If you want to go faster you can, but if that scares you, you can also slow down by using your feet.” She looked at me with this ah-ha recognition and said “I have the power?” Y’all, I could have melted into a puddle right there. This message that I wasn’t sure was comprehended was not only understood, but then applied in a way that made me so proud of her. To see her realize she has control over some things at this young age is inspiring. She is building confidence, and to witness it happening is so cool. Now, we just need to work on her semantics for remaining confident in various contexts, not apologizing when something isn’t her fault, and not using fault to describe an accomplishment. I hope she can hold me to the same standards.