People think of sleep as one of the easiest things in the world. Babies can do it! (Though as one woman wrote, “I don’t want to sleep like a baby. I want to sleep like my husband.” Hear, hear.)
But I’ve noticed a weird amount of people around me now who have serious issues getting to sleep and staying asleep.
And it’s even weirder that one of them was my 12-year-old daughter.
I’ve been thinking and praying about this lately as I’ve tried to get to the bottom of this; a lot of sleep issues seem to be emotional/psychological issues. One of my brain’s favorite signals to tell me I’m overloaded is its failure to get back to sleep after I’ve woken up. It’s like an annoyingly perky smartphone. Good morning! Good thing you’re up at three. Allow me to present your to-do list!
Then why was my daughter worried about getting to sleep now? It’s summer. What’s on her little brain?
The Sleepless Cycle
I wrapped a blanket around her, then my arm. We perched on the edge of the bed. And this was what we were able to pluck out. (I asked her permission to tell you.)
She was babysitting the next day for her new summer job. What if she was crabby with the kids? What if the kids’ mom got frustrated with her and decided to reneg?
So I wrapped my arms around her–and told her what I need someone to tell me.
Everyone hates to blow it. But even when you really bite it, you’re worthy of being loved. Trying to be perfect all the time can make us really nervous, depressed, busy, and fake.
You don’t need to be afraid of not being perfect, or even of disappointing people.
Jesus loves you. So you can do all this great stuff–loving people, being kind, achieving. But don’t do that stuff so he’ll love you. That’s backwards.
And really, I told her, that’s what Jesus is all about. (J.D. Greear explains, “There are only two kinds of religions: those that teach you to obey in order to be accepted; and those that teach that you obey because you are accepted. In every story…from the Bible…God confronts attempts at self-salvation.”* Here’s a post about communicating to our kids, I accept you.)
Telling our kids it’s okay to fail releases them from being slaves to their own performance.
I used to think I was a perfectionist
See, I once would have told you I was a perfectionist. But it turns out I was only afraid of my own failure.
(Can you resonate? Check out Just Right: Perfectionism vs. the Pursuit of Excellence).
Brene Brown writes,
Understanding the difference between healthy striving and perfectionism is critical to laying down the shield and picking up your life. Research shows that perfectionism hampers success. In fact, it’s often the path to depression, anxiety, addiction, and life paralysis.
….Perfectionism is a self destructive and addictive belief system that fuels this primary thought: If I look perfect, and do everything perfectly, I can avoid or minimize the painful feelings of shame, judgment, and blame.
― The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are
Toxically Perfect
I read recently of a town where police camp out at a local railroad track, on suicide watch. An alarming number of kids, pushed to capacity and the drive for success, have decided It’s just not worth it.
In a world that directly Instagrams to our kids specialness and perfection, where “good” won’t get you a scholarship–mediocrity, normalcy, and relaxing are scary things. What if I let my hair down and the bottom falls out of my world?
What if I’m not special?
Our kids need very little help for their brains to begin wiring their performance with their value. The entire world is telling them something different: Be skinnier. More productive. Smarter. Higher achieving. Faster. Better looking. More charming. More musical. More athletic. Better dressed, with a better haircut. Nicer. Well-read. Safer.
That kind of insecurity robs my kids of creativity, confidence, peace…and sleep. When any of us to be accepted, it’s an endless hamster wheel of activity toward a finish line of unconditional acceptance–that only comes from One Person.
In the words of Augustine, You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.
The culture of hustle stops here.
See, if my kids get the idea they must be x—even if x is “that shiny, polite Christian kid”—then I add to what’s required for them to be accepted by God. I’m saying Jesus isn’t enough.
But my kids’ security blooms from their acceptance in God, that I show–or don’t–in real-time.
And guess what? My 12-year-old slept through the night.
Like this post? You might like
Bouncing Back: Helping Your Child Open the Gift of Failure
A Letter to My Daughter: I Hope You Have Ugly Hands
Just Right: Perfectionism vs. the Pursuit of Excellence
The Three Words Our Kids Critically Need to Hear
Greear, J.D. Breaking the Islam Code. Eugene, Oregon: Harvest House Publishers (2010), p. 102. Kindle version.
