We rolled our bikes out to the quiet, tree lined street in front of our house. A spring breeze warmed our skin. The yard and the street were draped in shade and dappled sun. Leaves and grass and bushes pulsed green, a stark and vibrant contrast to the gray/brown branches and dirt of winter.
It was a whole new world.
My son is 8 and has not yet learned to ride a bike without training wheels. And to be honest he didn't do very well even with the training wheels, never getting enough momentum for a smooth glide.
His sister picked it up in half a day. One morning my dad was guiding her down the street, a gentle hand on her neck (for reassurance more than actual balance) and by the afternoon she biked home from school by herself.
I assumed my son needed more guidance since the motions seemed awkward and foreign to him. His legs jutted out sideways instead of making smooth circles on the pedals. A habit I remember from his ice skating attempts over the winter. He could do it, but both ankles dipped outward, his knees touching and skates flared out. Something didn't look right
.
The bike practice started with me holding the back of his seat and the handlebars, basically bracing and willing him into motion.
After a few tries, it was clear my "help" was not helping and instead he decided to learn the whole process, from push off to pedaling by himself.
Hands off, I still issued commands incessantly.
"Push down on the pedal, try to make a circle motion, try to stand up, push off like the scooter, faster faster, pretend the floor is lava, don't put your foot down, just keep pedaling!"
He could get about a half rotation on the pedal before the handlebars jerked violently to one side and the bike--and my son--careened into the curb. Once he extricated himself from beneath the bike, he ran inside. I found him face down on the couch. Sobbing and wailing. He faced the double defeat of not learning and having his little sister effortlessly ride past him. I tried to reassure him that he was brave, that learning takes time, that he was getting better. He only cried harder.
The next day we biked to school (about three blocks.) I didn't touch him at all. He stopped and started over and over and over. By now he could pedal for about 3-5 seconds before stopping and then would start the whole awkward dance of scooching forward to get the pedal in the right position. Slow and tedious. I continued to bark my instructions.
***
"I would love to help your daughter!" I read the email, and tears sprang from my eyes involuntarily. After noticing some behaviors in my daughter that felt uncannily similar to my own struggles with OCD as a child, I reached out to some OCD specialists for support. I learned about a program called SPACE. “SPACE stands for Supportive Parenting for Anxious Childhood Emotions and is a parent-based treatment program for children and adolescents with anxiety, OCD, and related problems1.”
The curse of having OCD myself: my children are more likely to struggle too, with both a genetic and a nurture component. Who knows what I modeled to my kids before I was diagnosed just three years ago, what tendencies towards rigidity and control seep out still.
The gift: I am better equipped to spot symptoms, I know the importance of getting access to the right tools, and I’m familiar with many of the treatments already.
I stared at the email from the SPACE therapist in wonder. A qualified specialist was going to help us respond to our kids’ anxiety in a way that doesn’t make it worse.
What a gift to have someone to help, to have someone who knows what we're dealing with, to have support. I think of six-year-old Aly and the supports she did not receive. How it was never even acknowledged that I was suffering or had a problem.
Neither of my kids show alarming symptoms, but we want to know how to respond if and when anxiety shows up, which is likely given our history.
At the first meeting with our encouraging therapist, my husband and I discovered one of the tenets of the SPACE program is to allow children to work through their own fears and discomforts.
It turns out, I don’t need to articulate the exact right response to my son’s fears or my daughter’s negative self-talk; I need to let them move through it without fixing.
As the name implies, my biggest takeaway was to practice giving my children more space when they're anxious, scared, dysregulated. This feels counter intuitive (which makes sense because OCD treatment has always been counter intuitive for me). Especially when the stakes are so high, how do I hold my tongue? Can I be a safe presence, not a fixer, advice giver, or rescuer? Can I be a trusting presence? Can I trust them to figure it out? Can I sit through my own discomfort of watching them suffer in the short-term so that they can build resilience in the long-term?
The phrase I am allowed to say before giving space: I'm here if you need me.
What if they don't need me? The thought echoed through me. That is the risk. And, actually, the goal.
Can I put aside my ego to let them figure it out?
Like with adults and my own experience with OCD recovery, my kids need the experience of being distressed and working through it. Without being rescued.
Another phrase I can say, “You’ll figure it out.”
And then, this is key, step back and let them figure it out.
This goes against everything in my nature. I am a teacher at heart. An over-analyzer, over-explainer, advice-giver, and what-abouter. How do I stay silent when my default is to give seven explanations when one (or none) would suffice?
I wrote on a post-it to put on my desk: my need to feel needed does not supersede their need to build self-trust.
My plan to bite my tongue? I decided to use the same techniques I used for reducing compulsions in my own OCD journey: see it as a challenge, use my stubbornness for good, count to 20, delay, write it down, try again and again and again.
I ended the call with the SPACE therapist hopeful yet humbled. My husband is a natural at giving space, being a trusting yet quiet presence. I am the one with my work cut out for me. I am green at this, a true beginner.
I would have a chance to practice this new posture sooner than expected: school pick up.
***
My daughter, son, and I approached the bike racks together, but I found myself slowing down and motioning for my son to stop, too. I leaned in and whispered a secret, a phrase I’m pretty sure I’ve never said to him in eight and half years:
"I know it's hard and frustrating to learn how to bike and I know you'll figure it out."
That's it. That's all I said.
I had to bite my tongue the whole way home. I wanted to remind him to look for cars and watch out for people and push harder and go faster and keep pedaling. All technically sound advice. But accurate does not mean helpful. (Come to think of it, I think this approach would work wonders in my marriage as well).
He painstakingly aligned the pedals, gingerly straddled the seat, teetered back and forth like an uneasy pendulum. He started and stopped…
Until he was gliding. 10 feet turned into half a block, a whole block, he rounded the corner, he's doing it!
Turns out he didn't need me to touch him or coach him.
He did need me to trust him and give him space to figure it out.
***
I know this is not necessarily an example of responding to my kids’ anxiety or OCD. This is a story of a kid learning a normal milestone. For privacy's sake, I didn't want to share specific stories of my kids' anxieties, and I wanted to show that this SPACE approach works for kids across the board. SPACE can works for not just kids diagnosed with anxiety or OCD, but for any kid when they’re feeling anxious or fearful. I know it would have been so meaningful to hear the phrase “you’ll figure it out” or “I’m here if you need me” from my own parents when I was a kid—even now, how meaningful that would be! Let me know if you try it!
Resources for parents of anxious kids
More information about SPACE treatment and providers: https://www.spacetreatment.net/
Book recommendation: Breaking Free of Child Anxiety and OCD by Eli R. Lebowitz, Ph.D.
Online community and parenting coaching: Natasha Daniels at AT Parenting Survival
Podcast for parents raising anxious kids: AT: Parenting Survival for All Ages
This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Green."
https://www.spacetreatment.net/
I love this, Aly! My daughter just turned 8 and still can't ride a bike, but I've never simply told her that I believe she'll figure it out. That really is a powerful phrase.
"My need to feel needed does not supersede their need to build self-trust." I definitely needed this post, Aly! I'm so quick to try to "fix" things for my kids, remove any obstacles or discomfort whenever possible, and I'm not great at letting them figure things out for themselves. As always, your words are a light to me. 🫶🏻