Cry it Out…  for Adults!

When I became a mother I was 22 years old.
I had no idea what raising a person was all about and I had been reading about it for months. The parenting dogma I related most closely to, or felt drawn to, was found in a series of books on attachment by the Sears family doctors.

Dr. Sears gave solid research on secure attachment and infancy. He wrote about babywearing and breastfeeding and cosleeping, and he talked about the cry it out approach.

The idea of crying it out is as uncomplicated as it sounds. Rather than catering to your infant when they fuss, you ignore them. What Dr. Sears wrote about this never left my mind. He said that if cry it out is used and the desired result is achieved where your baby stops crying, what is actually occurring is this:
Your baby begins to learn that no one is coming.

It isn’t that they’ve managed to master whatever they were experiencing on their own. They stop crying for help because they learn help won’t come.

They learn they are alone.

Yes, as parent you know they have a full tummy, they are in a fresh diaper, everything that you’re supposed to have handled is handled and they are safe in their crib. Crying is what they have at their disposal to signal they are in distress or need, so even if that need is just one of nurture and closeness, I never wanted to overlook or ignore it.

I never wanted my children to adapt to the idea that help was never coming.

This morning I am seemingly trapped. I am an unwilling passenger on my own brain train, as I often find is the case. My head is swimming with painful thoughts and memories and I am frustrated on so many levels. I feel like I’m being treated carelessly, often. I feel like the things I’m coming up against are all things I’ve tried to address. I feel a huge injustice.

I also have come over time to know that, cry as I might, help isn’t on the way.

I have tirelessly tried to express how I feel despite it leading to more heartbreak when my feelings are denied or challenged. Despite it leading to heartbreak every time I conceded, not because anything was resolved, but because it was so clearly not going to be.

I spent so many years wanting and trying to be understood. I spent so much time trying to express myself and have a meaningful conversation with resolution in mind.

This morning while crying and actively urging myself to stay silent I realized that it might have taken twenty years but it seems I’ve discovered cry it out for adults.

Cry as I might, no help is coming.