Stop Performing “Fine.” Repair in 2 Minutes.
I screwed up, owned it, and rebuilt connection with my kids that night.
At 7:32 a.m., I tried to be "strong" and ended up terrifying my kids.
On the first day back to school–weeks after their mom died–I broke the rule I swore I'd model.
I pressed my palms into my eyes, sighed, pasted on a smile, and walked into the kitchen.
"It's Breast Cancer Awareness Week at school. If you need to leave, tell the teacher; I'll come right away."
"Okay," my daughter said while my two boys began wrestling in the kitchen.
I clenched my jaw and grabbed the edge of the counter, digging and scraping my nails on the unfinished stone underneath.
The noise from the wrestling grew.
It's just me now. Every joy. Every meltdown. Every defiance.
Something in me snapped. "DAMMIT, STOP NOW AND GET READY!" The words left my mouth before I knew I'd chosen them.
They hung there, heavy, and hardened into shame. I slid down the cabinet to the tile floor and tried to quiet the tremor in my hands.
The boys tied their shoes in silence. My daughter whispered, "Bye, Daddy," and the door closed.
That night, my son asked, "Daddy, are you okay?"
I almost lied. "I'm...o..."
"No, buddy," I said instead. "I'm scared. I feel broken. I miss Mommy." He stared back at me in silence.
"I failed you today. I'm so sorry. I love you."
"It's okay, Daddy," he said, nodding, reaching for my hand to pull me in for a hug.
Your kids need your honesty. I learned that by hurting the people I love, then learning to repair the harm. Here's how.
The 2-Minute Repair Script
It doesn't have to be a long, drawn-out conversation. Repair can happen as quickly as the rupture that broke the connection.
TL;DR: Don’t perform “fine.” When you blow it, repair in 2 minutes: Regulate, Own, Share, Validate, Apologize, Plan, Reconnect.
Regulate first: slow exhale, drop shoulders.
Name it (own it): “I yelled. That was scary.”
Share inside (age-appropriate): “I’m sad and overwhelmed.”
Validate: “It is normal if you felt scared or mad.”
Apologize (no ‘but’): “I’m sorry I yelled.”
Tiny plan: “Let’s try again. I'll speak calmly and help with your shoes.”
Reconnect ritual: hug/hand squeeze/inside joke.
Teen Variation: For teens, offer space first; for littles, keep words short and concrete.
Name your feeling, never your child as the cause. Keep adult details out. Short and concrete for younger children. Choice and space for teens.
If they're not ready to repair, tell them, "I hear you. I'll check back in 20 minutes. I'm here if you want me."
If you can't regulate: step away, hold an ice cube, or text a friend.
The Rupture
I ruptured the connection between myself and my kids that morning. In my grief, those ruptures spiked as my emotional and physical load far exceeded my capacity.
In grief, my kids turned into a task, not people. Shame hardened and made me smaller.
The Repair
That night, I owned up to my mistakes. It didn't take away the moment I scared my children, but it repaired the broken connection.
This is rupture and repair. It's normal.
The goal isn't perfection; it's modeling how relationships heal.
We fail. Every day. In ways big and small.
We either sink deeper into those failures, or we learn from them. And modeling our learning to our kids through vulnerability gives them the tools to navigate their own emotions.
Kids sync to us. When we slow our breathing, theirs often follows. Calm can be contagious.
When You're Overwhelmed
There are (many) times when you will be overwhelmed, especially in acute grief.
Find a phrase or action that lets you pause.
Clarify with your kids what it means.
Put it into practice starting today.
For me, I landed on "I'm done parenting for the day. I'll be back in 5 minutes. You're safe."
Parenting is hard. Parenting in grief is its own thing.
Real > Fine. Repair > Performance.
- CJ
Are you performing “fine?” Comment below and let me know a phrase or action you use when you’re feeling overwhelmed.
If you enjoyed this read, the best compliment I could receive would be if you shared it with one person or restacked it. Share it with a solo parent who is tired of “fine.”