Sometimes success can’t be measured because in this instance, success literally means becoming unmeasurable.
The meltdown that didn’t happen.
The dysregulation that lasted only for a few beats before their safe adult was there.
The day when “nothing getting done” was far superior to “everything going wrong”.
The trip that was able to exist instead of not existing.
The safety that was felt instead of loneliness in that scary moment.
The emotions that were shared loudly and safely and accepted.
How can you measure these things? You cannot travel to an alternate universe and see how it would’ve been in your absence, without your careful preparation, without the study you’ve done, the things you’ve learned, the backpack you packed, the snack you handed out, the deep breaths you took, the love in your eyes as you looked at them. You cannot see what would have happened if you hadn’t been there, or if you’d snapped sooner, or if you’d not known what you know, or if you’d not done what you did. You can’t see, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.
It matters.
You were there. You did hear them. You did see them. You did respect them. You did care for them. You did meet a need. You did keep yourself steady even when they weren’t.
The success might not be measurable, but it’s still a success.
You did a great job. You’re doing a great job.
***
This post dedicated to my husband, cramming himself into the backseat of a Honda Civic, between two car boosters, so that everybody could sit in peaceful silence the whole way home.
It would be easy to think, “wow, what was the point—they didn’t even fight this time?”
No, they didn’t fight this time because Dad was there, co-regulating with just his presence. ❤️
