How do you handle conflict?

How do you handle conflict....?

Today i ask this because I have come to realize I dont know how. At least not how to handle and solve it. As a child growing up in a disfunctional family conflict, disagreement, and angry feelings were just a part of the norm. Mom was mad then we all stayed low until she wasn't. We were mad... Oh well too bad. Dad was mad.... Well it will blow over ... How? By not talking about it. Resolution was something we handled individually... I don't mean we talked it out with each other. You just held it inside until you could work through it yourself. Meaning you suppress your dislike or your disappointment for something. You didn't dare discuss it.

I often find myself in situations where I don't like something butmy first thought is how will the other person feel once I express that I am displeased? You see I was conditioned to please and to not upset others. The fear was that I wouldn't be loved if I said what I wanted, didn't want, didn't like etc. i have a deep desire - no its a need like food and water.... to be accepted, appreciated and loved. Those desires can sometimes cloud my judgement as to what should be done vs what I will do in order to keep the peace.... In order to continue to feel loved or liked. 

So again I  ask how does one settle conflict. As a child we would hold the anger inside...Suppress it. Internal anger soon turns to hate. Small issues become big issues because the anger is never dealt with it just keeps building. Push it down make room for more... That was what we did.

There was no listening to each other to try to resolve the misunderstanding or conflict. But then again you have to tslk in order for someome to listen... There was no talkng either. This resulted in us not connecting and misunderstanding each other. There was never ever any communication about problems. Not being able to agree- even to disagree was just a form of life.

So now fast forward. I am a parent and I don't know how to settle conflict or disagreements with my children so that there is a door open for continuing communication and love. I have failed in this department. 

How do I know? My children at their ages 21, 19, and 16 are all harboring issues with each other and with me. This has created space where there should be love and understanding and companionship and family. 

I failed them... I failed them because in all honesty I don't know how to figure out conflict. When conflict arises I can somehow see all sides - I can see how all parties might be feeling.... But when the question comes to whom is right? Or wrong? Not sure how to answer that. Not sure whom to blame.. Not sure who's to say sorry, not sure if someone should say sorry... And often times I am not sure if sorry is even the right answer. It often comes from a place of not wanting to have anyone be angry with me...

But this leads to a deeper question ... Why is that such a scary thing that someone would be mad with me.... Well growing up, as a child mad meant.. I was unloved, I was nothing, I wasn't a person... I was a big walking piece of disappointment. The feeling of being a disappointment- not good enough is a feeling I still feel today... I hate the feeling and lately it's what I feel everyday all day.

But how do I step past this and get my kids to learn to resolve their conflicts in a way that continues communication with each other and me. How do I get them to beable to see that conflict doesn't have to mean relationship is over... It just means that we are all different and that we can see things differently but the most important thing is respecting one another and though you may not always agree you can still accept the other person for who they are. 

For today I've written down my thoughts.... It's a start... For later I will pray that God has his way and In his time creates for me and my kids better communication ...

This is my prayer for them before I leave this earth. 

Keeping it all inside

I was thinking ... No actually remembering ... No actually realizing ... That I have been hiding my pain since i was very small...

This is my story....
I think I was in kindergarten or maybe preschool... I seemed normal on the outside... ( I think) I played on the juggle Jim during recess. Rode the hoppy horse and enjoyed riding on this spinning circle ride. I wore two pony tails most of the time and have vague memories of various plaid dresses, pants outfits and cute shoes that I wore to school. I think I smiled a lot or at least knew that people were drawn to me and thought i was adorable. I think I was a smart kid and generally liked by the other kids. I recently found one of my teachers from that time in my life on Facebook. She told me how much she thought well of me as a child. I was so nice, polite and smart. To her I was a perfect child... So much so that she named her daughter after me.... Wow .. What an honor! I was truly humbled by her words and actions... She showed me her daughters Facebook page and yes we share the same name... Oh but how I wish that teacher could have know of the secrets I had... And the pain that I carried at that young age.

One day I was swinging on the swings. It was something I loved to do during recess. The swing seats were made of flexible material. I loved to stand on the swings and as we would call it "pump" your legs so that you would go higher and higher. Boy how I loved swinging.... I loved to sit and swing too but standing would make me go higher and I could see more of the top of the school building and the tops of the trees.

This one day I was standing and swinging and my feet slipped out of the swing.... I couldn't get my feet back in the swing so I was holding on with my hands... I tried and tried but couldn't get my feet back in the swing so I let go and landed hard on the ground on my bottom. I think I may have cried... I think they sent me to the nurse and I was sent home with a note to give my parents about my accident at school. My stomach hurt something awful. I think I probably bruised my stomach muscles when I slammed Into the ground.

I didn't give the note to my parents. I didn't tell them I had fallen and been hurt. I opened the letter read it and threw it away. I didn't want them to know I had been hurt....

At the tender age of preschool... I already had learned to hide my pain...I knew that no one was gonna care, or comfort me for my pain, I also didn't want to be humiliated for being hurt..... I didnt and knew that i couldnt tell my mother cause it was not safe to be vulnerable to her as she caused me pain at home.... And i already had learned that pain ment humiliation so i couldnt tell my dad cause what would he think... He still thought i was a good child.... If had told him what would he have thought... Would he start to think of me as my mommy did?? That i was bad? Unworthy of love? Unworthy of care and protection?? I don't know that at that age I could have explained my reasoning for not telling my parents that I had been hurt... But I do know I chose not to tell them for fear of something... I was afraid to tell them that I was hurt.... To validate my pain.... I was in preschool. I have been doing that same behavior all my life .... Afraid to share my pain... Ashamed to share my pain.... Embarrassed to share my pain... I was taught that reaction to pain.... My God what I must have been through at that age to have hiding pain as being the answer to pain.... OMG what had that child been through already? What in the world could I have experienced that would have been such a lesson that would make me hide getting hurt by accident?

I used to think that I had made a conscious decision to hide my emotions from others.... I now realize it wasn't conscious.... It was necessary... It was something that I learned in an effort to protect me....
I was a child... I was in preschool and I had already learned to hide who I was from the rest of the world... I had already learned that I was alone... No one was gonna save me or comfort me....
Oh how I cry for that little girl today.... Oh how I cry for her not being able to know safety and comfort.... And how she is still trying to figure out what that's supposed to feel like as an adult....

I've spent my whole life keeping it all inside cause I never had it in the first place ... I've never had the comfort and safety of knowing someone was gonna protect you and take care of you.... That someone was gonna hold you in your time of pain or fear....
OMG the realization of this is truly overwhelming....I need to process this more...

A Red Balloon....

My mother was just like a balloon that was filled with hot air.... And would pop when it had too much air or someone poked it with a pen...though she wasn't filled with hot air..... She was filled with hate, confusion, pain, negativity.... She would get really full... Just like a balloon. Big and round.... Almost pretty but scary at the same time.... And then......

"POP"

She'd explode and release all that was in her.... All that was filling her up.... It would come out in a whooshing sound..... As she screamed at me, hit me manipulated me, hurt me...

Sometimes the balloon is popped and there are scrapes left.... Slivers of the previous balloon is all that remains.... Sometimes those words could describe my mother as she sat after one of her berating and degrading methodically torturous "discipline" sessions. One could see that all that was left was slivers of a broken person.

If a balloon just has someone let the air out.... Then what's left is a balloon that can be filled up once again... That's how my mom was most of the time after her explosions.... Just waiting to fill herself up with more of her negativity so she could release it all onto my young being....

You can fill balloons with different things and make them big and pretty.... Water, helium, air.....

My mother was to me a big red balloon... What a difference my life would have been had she been filled with love....

I want to be known....

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> I want to be known... Not famous... But known... Understood, accepted, welcomed, appreciated for who I am and all that I am.
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> I want it to be known that my favorite color is peach and the reason why it's my favorite color. My father had a friend who lived in Maryland. As a child I remember driving to their house for a visit. They were an older couple and seemed to have money. They had just had their living room painted and redecorated and the color of the walls was peach with the accent color of cream. I remember thinking as I looked at the walls in awe.... That my new favorite color was going to be peach..... That visit and change in color appreciation was over 30 years ago. My first favorite color was yellow.
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> I want it to be known that I had several toys that I remember having as a child... "Baby-Thata-Way"- she ran on batteries and crawled across the floor. "Baby Alive"- she could be feed special food and water in a bottle. She ran on batteries and also peed and pooped in her diaper. " I had an "Inch worm"- a green worm shaped ride with wheels that I rode outside during the summer. These items are important as I havent always been able to remember that they existed as a part of my childhood.
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> I want it to be known that my favorite meal is a steak, ceasar salad, rolls with butter and a baked potato with sour cream- no butter. My favorite beverage is coffee with cream and sugar.... One cup in the morning- for me ... Coffee is to me what gas is to an automobile.. :)
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> I want it to be known that I want to be explored and asked about my life and where I've been and what I've lived through.... I want someone to ask about my day and really listen to the answer.... Not just hearing me with their ears... But listening with their heart.... I want to be known
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