I remember my parents commenting upon returning home from a week's family vacation, "It's good to be home." Regardless of how much fun we had on the trip, it was ALWAYS good to get back home. I guess that's because our home was a wonderful place to be. It was safe, physically and emotionally. We liked being there more than anywhere.
It's become apparent to me that some kids don't feel that way about their home — or the family car — after a competition. Some young athletes have come to associate home with things like being critiqued, being judged and analyzed, or perhaps getting the silent treatment, especially after a loss or a sub-par performance. These kids wish they could go to someone else's home after the game.
Competitive sports provide a rich arena for learning life's toughest lessons, but those lessons get obscured or missed when there's no such thing as a safe place afterward. When an athlete's number one fear is disappointing Mom or Dad, reflecting on a specific technique or game strategy is not likely to happen. There's little mental or emotional energy available for asking, "What happened to me out there?" when you're trying to defend yourself against a parent's interrogation, that sounds like "What were you THINKING out there?"
The question all parents can ask themselves is this:
"How shall I behave if I want to create an emotionally safe environment for my child, no matter how they perform?"
This does not mean we need to avoid talking about performance issues. It DOES mean we are wise to avoid being judgmental during those discussions.
Our job is to be interested, even curious about what our children are experiencing while they compete.
What's it like to be in their shoes when it feels like the whole world is watching?
What do they think is working for them and what is not?
When we remove our own emotions from the conversation—like frustration and disappointment—our children will sense our support rather than our criticalness; our love, rather than our judgment; our acceptance, rather than our distance.
The worst message we can send is that love will be delivered in direct proportion to the performance achieved.
My parents were not accepting of ALL my choices growing up, but my performance issues fell into a different category. They belonged to me. There were no scoldings for grades or strikeouts. The message I received, which always meant home was a safe place was: "There's nothing you can say or do that will cause me to reject YOU." That's a powerful message that many people struggle to give as an adult unless they experienced it at home as a child.
" by Peter McWilliams