Connecting with Children and the Different Parts of Ourselves
Today I want to introduce you to Sally. Sally is a marionette Santa gave me when I was ten years old. One of my favourite Christmas memories. But Sally’s true claim to fame was through the many children I babysat. I became the favourite babysitter because of Sally.
Babysitting often meant looking after children who really didn’t want their parents to go out. At times, I had only briefly met the child before I babysat them. This was really the beginning of my career, as I sought to understand how to soothe these children and work with their place of distress to help them cope.
I started taking Sally babysitting with me. In therapeutic terms, she was a tool, a prompt, but I was twelve; it was an act of compassion. Sally could connect with children in a way I could not on my own.
As the child watched me talk with Sally, their attention shifted, and they began to relax. I created a puppet show in which the child was the focus. As illustrated below, I would hold Sally in front of me. I did not sit too close to the child to avoid intensifying the child’s feelings. When we are stressed, a lack of personal space or a boundary violation can often increase our stress.
I would gauge the space and create a safe distance between Sally, the child, and me. Then Sally and I would talk about what to do.
I might start by saying:
“Hey Sally, tonight we are babysitting Aaron, and he is having a really hard time because his parents are not here right now. Do you have any idea what might help?”
The puppet would indicate a “no” response as I moved the strings. I had just shown up on the scene. I didn’t know this child, so I wasn’t an expert, and neither was Sally. Years later, this same kind of thinking informs my therapeutic practice. I am not an expert on you, but I can help you deepen your understanding of yourself.
My response to Sally.
“Sally, really, you have no idea what to do! Aaron is really upset. Sally, why don’t you tell me what you do when you are really upset”
Sally would suggest an activity, like doing a puzzle or riding my bike, and the conversation would continue. Sally and I also discussed what it might feel like to be left with a babysitter.
Sally’s list of ideas was often a little silly and an exaggerated version of what I saw around the room. Ideas included going to Disneyland, riding an elephant, or riding a race car. With some children, it took some time; with Aaron, it took a couple of hours of sitting there, reading his nonverbal cues and responding when necessary. In time, the child would start to listen, follow the flow of the conversation, and then interject. The child usually responded to Sally, not me. They would tell Sally that it was not possible to go to Disneyland or ride an elephant.
The child then became the expert, not on their distress, but on something else. This was the beginning of a new conversation; it was the beginning of possibility, not distress. Creating possibilities helps engage people in divergent thinking and fosters psychological flexibility.
Practice to Theory
I didn’t understand the connection between practice and theory at 12. Many years later, I learned about the theory, which affirmed what I was doing and what I still do. My approach helps individuals move from a rigid psychological state to one that is more open and flexible. If you would like to learn more, read my post on Acceptance and Commitment Therapy.
Puppets have been a part of my practice for many years; here I am with my latest puppet, Emma the Emu who I took sailing last summer.
I have used puppets to build connections and create moments of joy. I have taken a puppet overseas with me to connect with children whose language I do not speak. My puppet “Pogo,” a horse, was once used to distract children in a refugee camp in the Democratic Republic of Congo so a National Geographic photographer could take photos of the children at the feeding center without a large number of curious children in awe of his camera.
As a parent, my children were exposed to my many puppets and their special roles. Ronny, my bear puppet, helped my daughter get to preschool. Ronny loved preschool, and his excitement was contagious; his encouragement worked every time. Then there was Tulip the turtle, who helped us learn about shyness and how to slowly move our head out of our shell to find a place of comfort.
I used puppets to help children understand different parts of themselves. Using a child’s imagination, a puppet helps a child enact a part of themselves that another part is dismissing. My puppet Sally helped Aaron externalize a part of him that was upset. Many Therapeutic approaches employ the idea of parts. Most recently, Richard Schwartz of Internal Family Systems (IFS) has highlighted parts theory, but I have used the concept for many years, based on the work of many before him that invites us to recognize the different parts of ourselves and how they interact.
The dialogue with Sally also illustrated a form of self-talk as I created both dialogues. Parts theory invites us to examine how the different parts of ourselves talk to each other. The following image depicts Sally, who has just met someone new, and her resulting self-talk. Sally might label it her anxious part or her insecure part and work on drawing upon another part of herself that can soothe and calm
My many years of practice have expanded my tapestry of techniques and skills, grown from my initial challenge of soothing and calming a child who did not want a babysitter. Each of us has a unique story and point of pain, and a unique recipe for resilience. It is always an honour to be invited in to work with another and use my creative wisdom, which now includes a great deal of theory, to transform and enhance another’s sense of resilience.
I invite you to think about the part of yourself that struggles, the part that defines the narrative of distress; name it if that feels right. Maybe it is your younger self; maybe it is your anxious self. I often blame my inner voice (a part of myself that says things that might not be socially appropriate) when I make a social blunder.
I will say:
“Oh, that must have been my inside voice slipping out.”
The humour usually dispels the discomfort of the moment.
If you would like to work with me, I offer online psychotherapy, so it doesn’t matter where you live.
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My book, More than Luck: Cultivating a Resilient Mindset Navigating Life and Adversity, just won an International Impact Award and can provide a useful resource.
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