Why I Love Playing the Hiding Game

    I didn’t realize so much of parenthood involved hiding things from your kids.

    Scissors, paint, glitter, iPads, party supplies, adult tool sets, plungers, remotes, candy,  ice cream. the last bit of your favorite cereal, your snacks your friends send you because you don't have a Trader Joe's nearby,  adult makeup up,  adult shower products...

    Seriously I literally walked in on Zola and Roe sitting in the shower pumping my shampoo down the drain, only to realize they also had my body wash, my face wash, conditioner, shaving cream, and purple shampoo scattered around them. They greeted me with big smiles, “Mommy we are playing the pumper game!” A little of me died inside.

    Forget about all your scrunchies. Chapsticks are never safe. 

    And Jeff got me this $20 lip balm for Christmas and I'm so obsessed with it that I keep  it practically in my vicinity at all times. Because I don’t want to know what it looks like to watch the last third of it smeared on a plate or a doll's face. And yes if you were wondering, the Laneige Lip Balm is worth it.    (that's the amazon link to my storefront) I want all the flavors. 

    And now my shoes! They all steal my shoes for dress up. But you don’t know what is a real sucker punch? Grey has already started fitting in some of my sandals. She’s nine. I wasn't prepared for the hiding game to turn into the sharing game too. 

    I not only have to grieve that my oldest can already almost fit in my shoes, but also I have to play detective to hunt down my sandals only to find her already wearing them, looking grown so grown up.

    Seeing your child wear your stuff is a weirdly emotional milestone I was not prepared for. 

    And I have three kids. I'll be playing the hiding game and sharing game three times over. 

    They’re all smart as hell and team up on us now. They plot together, like little clever criminals to get the iPads out of locked doors. And a couple of months ago they all took turns taking single every pair of my shoes out of my closet and hid them behind the couch. I couldn’t find them because none of them would tell me.

    They thought it was hilarious when I found them  all stuff behind the couch several days later.  I hadn’t checked there because it didn’t seem logical to have that many shoes stuffed behind it. ( I have a lot of shoes. I love shoes okay?) 

      And honestly it was pretty damn funny. I laughed too. 

    Sometimes, I genuinely forget that laughter is an option for parenthood, because when you grow up with the opposite, there is this weird feeling inside that kids are supposed to be in trouble for doing harmless things. When I let their little curiosities be funny I can problem solve a lot better. I am calmer. I have more patience. And I can communicate better too.  

     And honestly even with how mildly annoying these things are, my kids stealing my things is my favorite game. 

    I hope to play it all my life. I hope I find my clothes in kids' closets. And I hope they keep finding the decoy snacks I use to hide my super special treats. 

     I hope they're at my bedroom door asking for my scrunchies as teenagers. 

    I hope we all take turns hiding the best shampoo because I refuse to buy four bottles of it. Because the hiding game, is actually all my dreams coming true. 

    I get to create so many beautiful memories I never had with my own mother. And that’s not to say I’ll never get mad or there won’t actually be real arguments about where that shampoo is or who has my favorite sandals, but it's so damn beautiful because it’s real life. 

     It’s living proof I am IN my kids lives. 

     Spending time with them explaining why we have routines and structure.

     And I’m actually giving them structure. I give my kids rules. I’m there to explain how to clean bathrooms and remind them of the chores they have to do.

     I’m there for the dinners at the dining room table. The family game nights. The beach days where we are all so thoroughly tired and sunkissed that the following day we all rot in front of screens and then eat McDonald’s while we all discuss what super power would be the best to have. Then I'm thinking about their wellbeing and brain health from the hours in front of their iPads. 

      I am in my kids lives in a way my mom was never in mine. 

     The hiding game is proof my girls know what it’s like to have a mom who shows up for stuff. And for someone who didn't have that, it feels sacred or miraculous or something that doesn't have words, but makes my chest feel tight and my eyes gloss over. 

     And sometimes I show up grumpy and then I apologize.

    And a lot of times I show up regulated and when I’m not regulated, I have tools to regulate me.

     And when those don’t work. I have other ways to take care of myself.  

    For a really long time I worried almost constantly that I had to be really fucking close to perfect to be a good mom. I thought that if I was imperfect (aka I couldn’t be sad or irritated or overwhelmed) my kids would take it personally. They would blame themselves for how I felt.  That they would punish themselves for when I was overwhelmed

    Because that’s how it was for me and I didn’t want them feel bad so I told myself I couldn’t feel bad so they didn't feel bad. "My mood is their mood. I set the tone in the home."  But that meant their moods were mine too and I'd go around in circles feeling bad, but not wanting to feel bad because then they’d feel bad, but they're already feel bad and how am I supposed to fake all this positivity when I'm overwhelmed?? 

    The answer? Stop faking. start taking more responsibility for how you feel.  And not in the, you just need to suck it up and force yourself and blame yourself way. I thought 'taking responsibility' meant being blamed. I felt blamed my whole childhood and felt extremely disappointed that's what motherhood would be too. 

    But it's not and I want to share with you how I stopped blaming anyone, including myself and especially my kids and what healing looked like for me. 

    A huge piece of my struggle as a mother is because of my own relationship with my mother. I  have a semi-estranged relationship with her.

    I have done a shit ton of emotional work to heal from my relationship with her. And even more so in the last two years. It’s been some of the hardest inner work I’ve done. 

    For most of my adult life I wondered what it actually felt like to be the  more healed version of myself when it came to her and it’s not what I expected. 

    Feeling healed doesn’t feel like I've closed up a wound and only see a scar now. That’s what I imagined. Finally not seeing a gaping wound inside me needing to be fixed, but a nice silverly scar like a badge of honor I finally learned how to close.  So I could say, "ha. I don't feel sad about you anymore mom! I don't grieve anything! I'm not long in pain! You don't win!" 

     And if I just did the right things, perfectly for the foreseeable future I would not give my kids the same wound. 

     Deep down I was afraid  that the wound would never fully heal because it required my mom to heal me and I hated that. I hated needing her still. I hated wanting her still. 

     This made me feel like I was walking on a tightrope.

     No, it was a single piece of thread stretched taught. 

     And I was expected to walk across it without falling off. 

     I fell off constantly.

     I felt constantly overwhelmed with my lack of emotional control. 

     I was indecisive. I second guessed myself. I felt like patience was impossible. 

     It felt like my kids were a mirror showing me my wound  every time I screwed up. Like damn if only I could freaking get it together already and never make a mistake again I might stop traumatizing them like I was. I can’t help that I had a mom who made a bunch of mistakes but I could stop myself from making mistakes. 

    I would remind myself  of how it felt to be yelled at or snapped at in a moment of frustration. I knew how they would feel and I hated myself for it. 

     But the thing is, my kids were a mirror, just not the kind I thought. 

    They were NOT three shiny, bright mirrors telling me I was broken beyond repair like my brain really desperately wanted me to believe. 

    The mirrors were only reflecting the truth. “You are not hard to love.”  But I couldn't see that, because I didn't know I was allowed to believe it. 

     There was never a wound, because I am not broken. I have never been. That’s the lie that trauma keeps perpetuating. When we have emotional experiences without support through them, our brains make us the problem. 

  I was never the problem. My mother’s behavior was. Her lack of emotional responsibility and personal accountability was the problem. Because it wasn’t just her behavior, it was how she felt and if she felt bad, I felt immense responsibility for it.  I didn’t have the impulse control or the discipline she expected me to have without ever being taught it. I didn’t know how to regulate my feelings because I was never modeled that or taught that. I was told, “anger is a choice.” and was simultaneously told, “you make me so angry!” 

     It was confusing and lonely to be loved by a mother that didn’t love herself, because she never knew how to take responsibility for herself. 

     Healing feels like being able to believe that I was not the problem. Fully. I can sink into my body and remind myself that I was not the problem. 

     I was enough. I wasn’t hard to love as a child. 

     I was allowed to make mistakes as a child. 

     I was not to blame for my mother’s moods. 

     I wasn’t the cause of her yelling EVEN WHEN I was being annoying or whiny. 

     My mom’s behavior had nothing to do with me and every bit to do with her own brain. Her own thoughts. Her own feelings. When I think of the part of my childhood with her in it, it felt like chaotic. My mother was full of internal chaos that she didn’t know how to work through. She was always overwhelmed, easily irritated, and emotionally unpredictable.

    When you’re overwhelmed and struggling you feel out of control and if you don't know better you gain control by blaming others to make sense of your feelings. 

    My mother told me often how much she loved me, but I rarely never felt loved. 

    And it really sucks having to teach yourself how to love yourself as an adult. 

    It feels scary and stupid.  

   In part because I believed loving myself required perfection, but once I was able to allow myself embrace being human, with real feelings, things really changed for me. It turned loving myself into a chore, into something healing. something soothing. sometimes it still feels unfamiliar to love myself. 

   I told myself daily, “You’re allowed to have feelings, it’s understandable that you’re overwhelmed, but it’s not your kids fault. Both things are true at the same time.”  

  I thought for so long I had to choose between honoring my feelings and loving myself, because if I felt overwhelmed by my kids, they would be traumatized and I would be to blame and I would feel this immense pressure to not be overwhelmed because I did not want to be a replica of my mother.

    But then I’m cooking dinner and they’re screaming and then 10 minutes later one of them is throwing their food across the table saying it looks disgusting and then I'm yelling. 

    I would immediately beat myself up for it, promising never to do it again, shame feels like admitting the truth that you're broken, but hoping no one can see. It feels like you're own version of the hiding game. Please don't let my kids see how wounded I am. I promise I'll fix myself eventually. I hope they understand when they're older. Please let them understand. 

    It felt like all I did was make more mistakes than not. And it really robbed the joy in motherhood. And whenever i had THAT thought? Cue another flood of shame and guilt tripping for not being grateful for my kids. 

    I chasing myself in a circle. Healing was to stop running. Healing was to start feeling. I had to be honest with myself. 

    Healing is the hardest and yet most  seriously simple thing I have ever experienced.  

    And I really grieve that for my mom. Because I imagine she had similar thoughts, most likely worse. 

   Her behavior was wrong because of how she felt and so I thought her feelings were the problem. Her reactions to her feelings were the problem. Her reaction to herself was the problem. 

   I desperately wanted to be happy for so long. I wanted to be positive and bright and warm all the time, because I thought that if I was positive and bright and happy all the time, my kids wouldn't experience what I experienced. And I really wished I had a  positive bright and happy mom. 

    But that wasn’t the whole truth.

   I wanted a mom who showed up. I wanted a mom whoe said sorry after she yelled. Who taught me to do makeup, remind me to shower, and explained that she was hangry after snapping at me in the car. I wanted a mom who read to me at night, taught me to wash my face, and reminded me to brush my teeth.  I wanted a mom who taught me to cook, and packed my lunches. I wanted a mom who gave me structure when I needed it and support  me through my tough emotions when I was overwhelmed.

   Instead I was the one feeling responsible for her feelings.  “You make me feel so angry.”  

    The truth was I  wanted a mom who loved herself.

    Love is not just something you say, it’s something you do.  Love is the in actions and reactions and repair. Love doesn’t require perfection. It requires apologies. it requires effort.

   It does not require you to turn into a robot and never feel overwhelmed. Thank goodness! 

   Love requires you to love yourself too. Love requires you to take care of yourself. Sometimes literally only in the smallest ways.

   Love includes explanations for your behavior. I will say out loud, “Hey it wasn’t your fault I’m annoyed. I was just really hungry and hot and my body felt overwhelmed and then I couldn’t find my shoe. It wasn’t you. You’re a good kid and I love you. Please put my shoes back in the closet.”  And everytime I say it out loud a piece of my childhood is healed. 

     And I hope to keep learning and keep growing. 

    I hope I'll get even better at explanations and apologies and maybe I won’t need to say as many after a while because I'll know how to recognize how my thoughts impact me even more quickly.

     I know how to take care of  feelings so I don’t do things or say things I don’t mean.

     I know how to give myself permission to feel bad. 

     I know that I can apologize.

    I know I can ask  my kids what they need and show up for them, because i started showing up for myself. 

     I stopped walking on the thread. I stopped expecting perfection. I didn’t have to wait to love myself until I was perfect. I'd be waiting for my whole life! 

   I gave myself permission to accept who I was in those messy moments. I wasn’t apologizing for who i was, I was apologizing for how I impacted someone I loved. 

    And growing up I would have felt really loved to have a mom who could apologize and didn’t see herself as broken because she had to say sorry. Moms are allowed to be human!  

    The ironic part is you can’t love yourself for your kids.

     You can’t love yourself for any other reason than the truth. You are lovable.

     Having kids doesn't make you worthy of love. You are just are worthy. 

    Your kids cannot be the reason you love yourself because all it says to them is that love is earned. That love is something that only comes from other people’s feelings.

    I think so many moms think their kids are the proof that they’re lovable and so when they screw up they worry that their worthiness will go down the drain. Then you feel constantly pressured to be perfect. 

    Round and round the cycle goes. 

   And that's because we believe our lovability is based on how other people feel.  But people feel different things for literally any reason. I feel irritated sometimes just because of how my clothes feel against my skin. 

   And if or when other people’s feelings change, the love goes away. When another person is grumpy, it’s your fault and you’ve done something wrong.  When another person is angry it’s your fault and you should feel bad. Other people's feelings are not your responsibility. Your responsibility is your behavior.  What is a reason why you’re lovable? There is only one reason you should love yourself. 

   That’s because you’re lovable.  No list of requirements. Nothing else to do.  

  I've spent the last three hours in my office, because Jeff’s work schedule has been really busy the last two weeks and I haven’t slept well this week and I’m three days away from starting my period and my newly turned five year old starts kindergarten in August and my nine year old fits my shoes. And I skipped dinner with my kids to eat in my office because I wanted to. I'm allowed to want things for myself. I am allowed to have needs and be human. and taking of myself makes me love myself and loving myself makes it easy to love everyone else around me. Because most of the time I actually want to eat at the dining room table with my kids because I can show up just the way I am. 

   There is no pressure to perform or pretend and it has made motherhood so much more enjoyable.  I have to remind myself of this regularly still. It takes practice to learn how to love yourself for who you are and not for who you think you're supposed to be or who you were told be growing up. I remind myself that I am not hard to love. 

   Coaching was the first place I learned how to make sense of my thoughts and feelings.  It was the first time someone explained it in a way that  felt safe,  simple and was easy to practice. Coaching was the first place I started unlearning that I was hard to love. Coaching was the first place where I learned to separate who was responsible for my feelings. (  I did not like that part.) 

    My mother was responsible for her feelings, but she didn’t know how to do that. She didn’t know how to be responsible for herself without blaming others, because I know inside she blamed herself, because she saw herself as wounded and broken and unlovable and unworthy of love. 

   And that showed up in every one of her actions. She did some really fucked up shit.  And she was responsible for  all of it. Not me. 

    She was responsible for taking care of me and she didn’t.  She wasn’t responsible for my feelings. All she had to do was to teach me how to take care of my feelings. I needed to her to show me what it was like to feel safe with my feelings.  All her behavior did was teach me that my feelings are someone else’s responsibility to fix and there isn't anything you can do otherwise. 

   I wanted her to heal my wounds from her behavior,  but the real wound was me believing there was something wrong with me. 

    Accountability creates trust, but you can’t be accountable if you think that every time you make a mistake you have to defend your worthiness. You’ll feel constantly on edge and waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

    My kids are not hard to love. You are not hard to love. My mom is not hard to love. I just wish she knew that. I wish she would have learned it a long time ago, but if I could pick another time for her to learn it? It would be today, because it might be the one wish I have that I don’t think I'll ever see in my lifetime. It would be an incredible thing to witness, to meet the version of my mom who loved herself. 

   And I wonder who she could have been and what life she would have created for herself if she had. 

   I wonder if we would have played the hiding game too.

   I choose to have distance from my mom because right now that’s how I love myself. My first job is to love myself. And sometimes it’s hard to be around her, not because she’s responsible for how I feel, but because it’s a little harder to believe that I'm not hard to love when I am around her.  She's a mirror too in some ways. 

    Healing is believing I am lovable. And to fully believe it I had to stop making my mom responsible for my feelings. She was responsible for me as a child and she never did that, but that doesn’t mean anything about me as person.  I can’t changer her. I can’t change what she did or didn’t do. Wishing for her to change her is fruitless. The only thing I can do is be responsible for myself.  My mom’s emotional abuse and neglect started really early in my life, her drug addiction started around 12 and I left home at 14.  I still needed my mom then. I still wanted my mom then. And I still want my mom now.  But just like I knew at 14, my mom is not a safe place. And that's why I don't need my mom, because I need safety more. 

   I used to think that because her childhood was so hard, I had to be more understanding to her mistreatment. I struggled with setting boundaries with her and found myself easily triggered because of it.  It made me feel guilty and ashamed that I couldn’t be more compassionate towards her.  

    My childhood was hard and difficult and sad and I still get angry at the way I was treated. And I'm allowed to feel allll those things, because healing doesn't mean never feeling angry or sad. Healing means not believing I deserved to be treated that way.

    I want to play the hiding game for as long as I live. I am so excited to raise my girls while loving myself. I never got to experience it as a child, but my girls will get to, and I'm excited to see what's like.  

    I used to say, I love being a mom, because it was like saying I love my kids. but now I say I love being a mom because I love myself. I love being a mom because being a mom is part of who I am. Motherhood is not something separate. It’s not something outside of me or a checklist of perfect qualities I should have.  Motherhood is me being a mom.

    And I’ll love myself through all the years where I don’t know what to do or have no clothes or shoes to wear because they’ve stolen them all. 

    That’s why I became a coach because I started to really learn how to love myself when I understood my brain and I wanted that for every person who didn’t grow up feeling loved. 

    And that’s why I’m also becoming a therapist. 

    Starting in the Fall I'll be attending Hawai’i Pacific University’s MSW program. And for the next two years I’ll be studying what I love to learn about the most. Human behavior.  After graduation I plan to become a licensed social worker and go into private practice therapy. After two years of private practice. I plan to pursue a clinical licensure in social work. And don’t worry, I'm not going anywhere as a coach. Things are just getting started.  I AM SO FUCKING EXCITED!!! Anyway, that was a lot. And if you’re still reading thank you. If you can relate, just know loving yourself is not as far away as you think. 

   If you want to learn how to love yourself and unlearn all the reasons you believe you're unlovable, I can help you. Sign up for a coaching consultation. 

   And if you’re still reading this, please tell me your best hiding tips because we are seriously running out of hiding spots. 

   Cheering you on, 

       Cortney 

Parenthood Hiding things from kids Parenting challenges Kids stealing items

Family dynamics Childhood memories Emotional milestones

Self-love Healing from childhood trauma

Mother-daughter relationships Emotional abuse

Boundaries with family

Coping mechanisms

Parental responsibility

Coaching for self-improvement

Social work

Personal growth

Positive parenting

Emotional regulation

 Cortney Given Life Coach for Medical moms and heart moms 

HLHS Hypoplastic Left heart syndrome support congenital heart defect support