Son, let me tell you something about my yelling.

Most of my friends around my mother believe that I am a gentle woman with a good temper through my appearance. Familiar friends know that mom is soft outside and hard inside. No one knows better than you.

When I was a child, I often tripped when I was in poor physical coordination, and sometimes I fell heavily. Many times I didn't feel your pain. ...

It's hard to admit this. I can't feel your pain, but what I care more about is that the clean clothes are soaked in dirty water and the dust is covered with rage and scolds you.

Before the third grade, I will often yell at you and punish you.

Just behind that gentle face, there is an angry soul who often falls into uncontrollable hysteria. This is mom. Sometimes she looks extremely ugly.

When you were over three years old, you knocked over a glass of juice, and I gave you a good scolding. That was the first time. You are standing in the same place as your doting grandparents. You have never been treated like this. You suddenly froze. ...

Later, I worked in the parent-child park, and my grandmother picked you up from school and sent you directly to the park, and she went home. After work, it's just you and me

At that age, you can play alone, but more often, you will always say mom, mom. Always meet your needs first, play with you, give you a bath, and when I finish reading the picture book, it's time for me to wash clothes, wash dishes, clean up and do housework. I was really tired. Physical exhaustion is part of it. Being separated from your father really consumes me.

After sending you to kindergarten in the morning, I will go back to work in the parent-child park, and I will deduct money if I am late. I am anxious to send you to school and work. .

You were still learning how to control defecation at that time. You often sleep until midnight, and the bed is still wet. Sometimes when you wake up in the morning, the sheets and quilts are wet. Sometimes you just change the sheets and get wet again. ...

Wet sheets and quilts were turned upside down on the bed and piled into a ball. I have to come back to wash the quilt when others have a lunch break.

Once, at noon, I grabbed the washed sheets and hung them on the roof with the quilt. It rained at night and was soaked to the skin. When I went to the roof to collect the quilt, my heart was like a heavy rain, and I growled silently.

I'm confused. I like children's education at heart. I think I am good at dealing with children. It was not until I was in my thirties that I bravely tried to enter this new industry. I am surrounded by girls who are younger and more capable than me. Besides admiring their carefree work, I feel even more stressed.

I study bit by bit, because I like it, so I insist. It really won't last long. The weekend of the parent-child park will always be staggered with your weekend, and I will accompany you. Still working? This has become my problem.

I feel that I can't do anything at once, and I don't care about my work and you. I am very angry.

Anger will be passed on to you. After you got wet again and again, my emotions were completely out of control. I yelled at you, but you were still scared and looked at me.

Powerlessness was wrapped in anger and attacked a young you, so I was like this. Blame is a sword, which will hurt you to pieces.

Every time I think back here, I can't help but close my eyes, because I can't look straight at myself.

The background of that kind of life is anxiety disguised as anger. They succeeded in occupying the soul of a busy and tired woman, which made me unable to think. I hate that I don't have enough time and energy, and I will give up if I can't do it well.

Later, in the first grade, my scolding intensified, and gradually escalated into corporal punishment and violence when you were studying. The reason is to be strict with you and make you do better. In fact, to put it bluntly, you are not good enough and not good enough. ...

This situation continued until the second grade. Once, I saw you interacting with other children, and you were yelling to deal with contradictions. I just know that in recent years, I have planted a seed of anger and violence in your heart.

I'm scared and feel guilty for sending you the wrong message for my own reasons. I'm afraid that if this goes on, you'll grow into my ugliest appearance.

Why am I so angry when I see you sigh and face the frustration of your study?

Looking for this answer, I was puzzled for a long time. Until you hear the pause.

In my understanding, pausing listening means listening to other people's stories without getting involved in their emotions, keeping a sense and distinguishing which emotions are touched. Is this emotion the other person's? Or your own?

Every time you were depressed before, you brought me back to my previous pain and got me involved. I couldn't escape, so I rebelled angrily. Not for you, but for my useless self, hating my powerlessness.

You remind me of the little girl who was worried and helpless when a group of people attacked your grandmother when I was a child. Grandma has been telling me not to live up to my expectations, but I am very depressed that I can't do it well. I always review until midnight, but my grades are declining day by day. ...

How do you know all this? You only feel that your mother's mood swings, fears and strong insecurity are hanging over you.

After seeing this, when your negative emotions are strong, I try to keep my self-awareness and observe my depressed little daughter. It worked. Just seeing this, it's really hard to shut up and do nothing but taste the pain when I'm in a bad mood.

When you pull me back into pain again and again, I see that the sense of powerlessness at this time belongs to you, and the part you touched belongs to me. I need to hold your part and let you vent. Then, I also need a quiet space to observe my feelings and comfort my hurt little girl.

Try to learn while doing. It's hard to do. I can take it step by step. After doing it, I will praise myself. When I do this, your mood will flow more smoothly and your bad mood will pass quickly. Now my mother seldom yells at you, so she has been affirmed by you. You are always so kind and praise me without reservation.

Your powerlessness and depression awakened my mother's fear, and made me fear the past and worry about the future.

Why did you write this? In my heart, there is a little selfishness that prevents me from meeting you in the future. Yes, sometimes I write for you.

Perhaps, as an adult, you are always weak in the face of work, or perhaps, you sometimes feel depressed because of emotional fluctuations. When attacking yourself, you should also know that your mother made a mistake and left these injuries in your heart, son, I'm sorry!

Maybe, at a certain stage, you will hate me especially, just like at a certain moment, I will hate my parents. Up to now, I am also learning to forgive my parents. Love and hate are actually the same, and hate is only the result of love, not the result.

I must learn to forgive my mistakes before begging you to forgive me. I am the one who admits ugliness, and I am the one who is rude. There is nowhere to hide, and there is no need to hide. Now, it's me who is constantly praised by you, because my mother has been growing up. The purpose of growth is not to be perfect, but to be closer to reality.

I want to be an imperfect but true mother.