Having a Dad who listened; and the impact that had on my life.

When I was younger, I relished spending time with my dad. He made me feel safe, loved and listened to. And it's the gift of listening that I remember most fondly. He would invite me to travel with him to work sometimes, which often took him around the country for a quick job. So we would spend sometimes 4 or 5 hours in the car and I would just empty my teenage little brain all over him. I don't know if he enjoyed those dumps, and that's the beauty of his gift: If he didn't enjoy it, I never knew. What I did know was that I mattered. 

From those conversations and others with my dad growing up, I have learned what it means to listen to my own children, though I often don't get it right. Here is what I took from those lovely memories and attempt to pass on to my three children:

"You can tell me anything"

When I was talking to my Dad, he would never judge me. Never criticise me. Never show disappointment. I never felt ashamed or embarrassed by what I would tell him or ask him. And he was the same way with me, I would sometimes tell him he didn't have to tell me everything, and perhaps he shouldn't have? But it really gave me permission to tell him anything, and everything. He felt safe. 

Now I'm sometimes pained at what our girls share with me but I wouldn't change it, just as I wouldn't change the sometimes mundane information or the repeated information. Children have to know they can tell us anything. 

"I accept your choices, and will not try to change your mind."

At age 19, I remember telling my dad that I wanted to leave University, which broke my heart as he was so proud of me going. But it wasn't for me (ironic that I didn't want to be a teacher but here I am home educating our three children...) When I finally told him, I could tell he was a little sad, though he tried to hide it. But as he listened, he didn't try to change my mind. He accepted my choice to leave, and my life took a whole new turn which I am sure made him prouder. After leaving University, I got several jobs; gaining lots of work experience. I worked hard and saved enough money to go travelling for a year. When I returned I studied book-keeping and got better jobs before going onto set up my own business just as he had. He trusted me to make my own choices and I am unbelievably grateful for that. Imagine if he would have tried to change my mind... Not only could my life have been very different, I would likely forever doubt my decisions and my feelings.

Every child is unique, they're a little piece of us and a little piece of something we don't quite recognise. And they're all on a journey that at some point becomes out of our control. The sooner we show them we trust them - and their choices, the sooner they become confident in their future, in who they are and in who they can become. 

I will laugh with you, I will cry with you. And I will always listen to you.

I can't tell you the laugh's I had with my Dad; whenever I picture his face, it wears a smile. He was cheeky and funny, and he would tease me often. We laughed a lot. But when life got difficult for our family, he would cry with me too. And when things were difficult for me and not him, he would revert to listening. 

As parents, we can often be afraid to show our own sadness, our own feelings, but when my Dad showed his, I felt safe again. It normalised how I felt and connected us on levels that laughter alone would not have. 

At age 23, I remember breaking up with a boyfriend, my parents had separated by this point and I was a little sad. My mum must have told my dad, for he arrived at our house that afternoon with a bunch of flowers and said "let's go for a drive". 

Once again the dashboard of his van got a bashing, but I returned home lighter and happier, hopeful about my future once more.  

Now I'm a mum and one of my girls struggles with big emotions. She sometimes goes into an emotional black hole and it can be difficult to reach her, but I always start with listening (if she'll share), sometimes I'll cry with her, sometimes I manage to make her laugh, but listening - and not trying to change her - is at the heart of those difficult moments. 

When my dad died I was 23 and it left a huge hole. At the time I didn't realise just what he gave me. And for a long time I didn't think anyone would be able to listen to me as he did and so I became quiet with my feelings. It's been a journey of opening up to them since but I married Ben and all who know him will know it's impossible to not share who you are with him... 

The reason we do this work is because we know first hand that the gift of listening has a bigger impact than most people realise. I hope to be a good listener to the girls I'm raising and to those around me. We hope we are raising good listeners. And we hope that our content, and our work goes towards making the world slightly better at listening. Listening leads to safety, truth, connection and love; surely the recipe for a world we all want to be a part of. 

Thank you Dad for being such a damn good listener, and listening still I hope.

And thank you for reading/listening too