IPNB in Action
Rupture and Repair
Some time ago I was talking to a group about rupture and repair between a parent and child, and a man in his seventies was in the audience. His forty-something son was also in attendance. After a break, the father came up to me and whispered, “I went to my son and told him how sorry I was for all the lost repairs.”
When I asked him what his son said, he told me, “He got teary, and said, Thank you, Dad…that means so much.”
I think about that moment often as it tells us something essential – repair is never too late…and it’s so important. The nervous system, the heart, the relationship can be open to repair.
Rupture and repair. Two words that, through the lens of Interpersonal Neurobiology, describe something that’s essential to the parent-child relationship…and even at times… transformative.
A rupture is the disruption of attuned, integrative communication between parent and child, at any age. Something occurs pulling a child out of feeling seen…feeling felt….soothed…safe. It can be dramatic or subtle…a harsh word…misread moment…a failure to show up.
To have the goal of never a rupture is simply not possible…nor is it necessary. We are after all…only human.
What’s important…that matters…is essential…is the repair.
I know this from experience.
In my book, A Brilliant Adaptation: How Dissociative Identity Disorder & the Power of the Therapeutic Bond Saved Me, I write about a night with my son Sam that turned out to be and an amazing opportunity for me as a parent, and a huge lesson for me as a future family therapist.
It was Sam’s – at age four – first ever sleepover. His best friend Molly – age 3 – was spending the night, but as soon as it was bedtime, she quickly got homesick and needed to go home to be with her mom. Sam desperately wanted to go with his dad who was going to drive her home. I said no…he kept insisting…I kept saying no. Soon “no” became NO!”…and something happened internally…something took over…I kept hearing, “… when Mommy says no…she means no…no means no…!”
It was an implicit memory of my mother’s voice so overwhelming it shot me out of my window of tolerance into rigidity. No means no…no means no…” Then came the chaos… Sam picked up a plastic container full of up crayons, hitting me in the face. My nose bled…I cried…Sam cried….it was awful…and I had no idea what had happened…what to do.
The next morning I arrived at an appointment with my therapist, Dan Siegel…my face bruised…I was crying and told him what happened. He listened…no alarm, no judgment…first he said, “Well, we need to talk to Sam about how hitting is never a good option…” and then quietly and kindly he asked me “…why couldn’t Sam go with his dad to take Molly home, Sally?”
Oh.
I was stunned.
I’d been operating on implicit mental models that were the opposite of how I wanted to be as a mother. I’d backed Sam into a corner on such an important night for him…his first sleepover…his best friend. I’d become so rigid…scary for him… that I couldn’t see him…feel him…soothe him…or keep him safe.
Then Dan explained something so important I’ve never forgotten…that ruptures with our children are inevitable. The important thing is to make the repair. The repair is crucial…and a golden opportunity, really.
A golden opportunity.
I went home and I made the repair. I told Sam it was never okay to hit, and that I had been wrong to have such a big and scary reaction to him. I told him I was sorry to have scared him…sorry I got so angry.
He said, “I’m sorry I hurt your nose, Mommy. I love you.”
“I love you too, Sammy.”
I love you so much.
That’s repair. The awareness and ability to come back…to say I was wrong. To talk to your child about how some actions are not ok…we will work on them together…mommy will help you. To let your child feel seen, soothed, and safe again. To restore the connection. We all rupture…it’s very human. Rupture isn’t a failure…it’s an opportunity…a golden opportunity.