When Kids Don’t Have The Words
The other day as I was enjoying my music in the car, my dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree. The check engine light, emergency brake light, and cruise control light were flashing in red and yellow behind the steering wheel. I was understandably concerned and terrified that, even though nothing was noticeably wrong, this would end up costing me hundreds or thousands to fix. I did some research, took it into a shop, got the opinions of a few people, and it ultimately came down to one thing: my gas cap was loose.
I checked, and sure enough, it had not been fully sealed. A twist and a click later, all was well. To be honest, I found myself feeling pretty upset at the fact that such a miniscule thing would trigger such a dramatic display of emergency lights and colors. Why couldn’t my car communicate the issue in a gentler, less activating way?
Well, especially because my car is not new and therefore void of any bells and whistles, it simply does not have tools or mechanisms sophisticated enough to coherently communicate specific issues. It can tell me something is wrong, and that’s about it. Past that, it’s up to me to slow down, consult, take a closer look, and problem solve.
Moral of the story: if a system does not have advanced enough tools to communicate a message, it does what it can with what it has to get your attention in hopes you can help diagnose and solve the problem.
Not unlike a toddler crying because she is hungry.
Or a child melting down because he lost a game.
Or even a teenager seeking isolation even when they feel lonely and misunderstood.
In each of these cases, a system is overwhelmed, but does not have the words, skills, or internal/external security needed to effectively communicate the issue. In these instances, behavior is communication. When kids lack the emotional vocabulary, self-awareness, or safety to verbalize what they feel, they “speak” through their actions. These behaviors do not need to be perceived as personal attacks or moral failings. Rather, it is the physical manifestation of “something is wrong and I don’t know what it is or what to do about it”.
For these kids, the parts of the brain that support emotional regulation and perspective-taking are still developing. Though it is worth noting that adults can easily engage in similar patterns. Sometimes, we cannot find the words to convey the stress, fear, or unmet needs we are experiencing, which can ironically create even more fear and stress (i.e., “I don’t know why I’m acting this way! I don’t know what is wrong with me!”).
When I notice these levels of dysregulation in my child (and adult) clients, I generally take an approach structured something like this:
What is difficult for you right now?
What is it about this situation that is difficult for you?
What are you feeling? (yes, I know, classic therapist question, but it’s important!)
What values or needs are being affected by this situation?
What can you ask for from others or offer yourself?
This process requires a lot of patience, compassion, validation, and curiosity, which might be exactly what the child needs more of in the first place. It enhances self-awareness. It expands emotional vocabulary. It connects the child to their own values and needs, as well as their internal and external resources. It teaches kids that emotional responses to challenges are normal. It demonstrates how to identify and respond mindfully to challenging situations. And perhaps most importantly, it increases the child’s sense of felt safety by communicating to them that “your feelings are safe with me”.
In my work with kids, these are the exact skills I am aiming to help them build. I provide a space where they can communicate in their language (words, play, behaviors, etc.) while they learn to identify and communicate their needs and feelings more effectively. That way, when their “check engine” lights start flashing, they (and you) can approach the situation with greater confidence, empathy, and understanding.
