24. Lessons in Wanting (2024)

“BUILD ME A BIGGER HOUSE!”

My 4 year old, Archie, delivered this command with resounding urgency one morning this week.

He has shared on more than one occasion that he does not like our “small” house. Additionally, he takes major umbrage with our lack of stairs. Tiny, stairless, piece of crap house. (In reality, it’s a very nice, modest-sized, midcentury modern home that we are so privileged to live in, but he doesn’t know that now does he?) He will say to his friends with an apologetic tone, “You can come over but we don’t have any stairs.”

Woof. I knew we’d likely reach an age where he’d be unimpressed with what we had to offer. Four wasn’t exactly the age I had in mind. I thought we had more time. Survey says it developmentally appropriate to compare at this age, but still 😩.

A part of me thinks he sounds like a little sh*t. That part comes up whenever he says or does something I suspect others may wince at.

Thankfully, I’m able to refrain from parenting from there most of the time. I’ve gotten to know this dismissive part better recently. So far, what I know is that this part is really used to that phrase. She heard it a lot. When I’d want something inconvenient or something that seemed ludicrous to the adult-brained individuals around me: “you little sh*t.” This was slightly confusing. It was said with a smile and a shake of the head. It didn’t read as angry. It read exasperated. “Oh, you’re just too much. Silly, little girl.” This part saw my wanting be met with annoyance and diminishment. So she came up with a plan. She’d internalize “you little sh*t” energy to wield at will toward me, whenever she sensed I wanted something. Her goal: Avoid that feeling. She’d broadcast: No fools here!

When I notice this unabashed want in my child and my knee jerk response, I come back to this phrase I heard in Bringing up Bébé: One American Mother Discovers the Wisdom of French Parenting: Tyranny of their own desires. In the context of parenting, the idea was that French parents are less afraid to say “no” to their children. They purportedly see it as their duty to teach children how to experience disappointment and not let these poor little suckers succumb to the oppression of their wants. Letting your desires run wild can wreck a person—from unquenchable thirst to deafening despair.

I have felt this tyranny the most when it comes to Redfin. Yes, Redfin. Mother, like son. I used to look at Redfin until my eyes bled with envy and defeat. I hope I’m not alone here because despite all the things I’ve shared here, this one feels strangely icky to admit. I had to stop looking (although they keep sending me frickin’ emails no matter how many times I unsubscribe. Please advise).

Thankfully, I noticed this emotional unrest. As a psychotherapist, this is a frequent occupational hazard. Eventually I’d zoom out and wonder, “What would you feel in that house you can’t feel now?” I never did get a very compelling response to that question.

It made me realize, the want I’m talking about here is not of the Redfin variety, nor is it about that hit of dopamine that comes from a substance or compulsive behavior. Though lord knows, I have that part, too. This is not about more, it’s about an experience.

In a lot of ways my internal value system agrees with this French way of parenting. I’m not afraid to say “no” to Archie. In fact, I think I’m too apt to dismiss his notions, especially the wild ones. That dismissive part of me that’s afraid of want comes barreling in. Happy she has something to do…dreams to crush and all that.

I know what you’re thinking. Crushing dreams?!?!? That doesn’t sound very therapist-y, does it? And you’d be right. This part seems to be reserved exclusively for those that feel like an extension of me, particularly my husband and Archie. Feel being the operative word. They’re not actually an extension of me, but this part thinks they are.

The same morning Archie demanded a bigger house to hang his hat in, I did some yin yoga. Each time I do yoga I’m reminded how incredible it is. How much it calms my nervous system, signaling, “It’s OK to slow down. No tiger chasing us.” It also gets me back in my body and moves, what we call in our house, the “greeblies1” around. Without fail, I inevitably start hassling myself, “Why don’t you do this every day?”

This conversation (solely taking place in my head) then led me to wonder about what a “dream day” would look like for me right now. The very moment that thought forms, the cavalry.

“That’s not possible, Kaitlyn.”

“Who are you to have that?”

“Definitively not in the cards right now.”

“Maybe someday, but not right now.”

All refrains trying to protect me from the Big Bad Wolf known as Disappointment.

This part of me is TERRIFIED to feel disappointment. She considers this feeling a kind of death. “You can’t handle it,” she tries to tell me. She feels she’s helping me. In a way, I appreciate her. She’s kept me grounded. I don’t want for much which has contributed to a fair amount of contentment in my life. She also has distracted me from the very real experiences I do want.

This part believes if I let the “wanting” monster out, she won’t rest til I have a PJ and a pool. Of course, when I actually listen to my wanting, it’s typically simpler. For instance, one desire that filtered in before the dismissive troops took over, “I’d like to stretch each night before bed.” And furthermore, I love commercial travel and I’m not about that pool life. My wanting part isn’t insatiable. If I’m paying attention, she gets fulfilled. Pretty easily actually. She just needs to be acknowledged. Legitimized as an important advocate for me, too.

It’s possible these two parts have the same exact fear: Disappointment. The dismissive part says, “Don’t want. You’ll be disappointed when it doesn’t happen.” The wanting part says, “Don’t forget what you desire. You’ll be disappointed.”

Ultimately, it seems Arch may be on to something.

Maybe I’m allowed to want and then to feel disappointed if the thing I wanted doesn’t come to fruition. I have done my damndest to want as few things as possible in my life. Avoiding anything that could lead to disappointment. But by silencing want, I lost sight of creativity. Of dreaming. Of my preferences. By leaning into what I want, regardless of the outcome, I also demonstrate that I have faith I can handle disappointment. Because I can.Dare I say, we can?

I know my own dismissive part better (thank you, IFS). She’s just petrified of wanting. And then that wanting part, I now realize she could see what others couldn’t. She wasn’t burdened by the tedium and continuous slog of adulthood. She could still dream and believe in more than what was right in front of her.

With Archie’s requests for a larger dwelling, it’s really not all that serious. After asking a few curiosity-led questions about what he thinks he’d like in a different house (other than more SQFT and stairs, obviously), I explain why we can’t move right now (with these interest rates?!). Despite the relentless repetition of these appeals for a new home, he literally replies, “OK, momma.” and moves on to his PAW Patrol figurines. It’s staggering.

I routinely learn from my child. Truthfully, probably more than he’s ever learned from me. I hope he doesn’t invoice me some day for the wisdom he’s bestowed.

Questions for you:

(1) What does your “dream day” look like right now?

(2) What feelings come up when you pose that question to yourself?

(3) Are there parts of this “dream day” that feel more possible/accessible than you realized?

(4) What is your relationship to want? To dismissiveness/ To disappointment?

(5) If you’re a caregiver of any kind, what kind of internal reaction do you notice to the wants of the kids in your life?

(6) This was less psychoeducational. For those that have read my other stuff, how are we feeling about this style?