Children do well if they can – dignity and everyday resonsibility

This is a text about a children do well if they can approach.
About two kinds of pain: the one that hurts the body and passes, and the one that settles in the soul.

Read this post in Swedish →Barn gör när dom kan bemötande – smärta, skam och ansvar

When both breasts and relationships can hurt

Yesterday I had a mammogram.
That very painful thing we women do every other year — to stay alive longer.
I was told to take two painkillers before.
I really hope I remember that next time.

The machine presses hard. It hurts.
But it’s over quickly.

Walking out, I felt relief.
Grateful that I could go home, have coffee, and let my body relax again.

That pain passes.
Not all pain does.

Where the water wakes me

This morning I stepped out into the early cold, minus one and a half degrees.
Bathrobe, gloves, hat. My swimming bag in hand — a promise to myself.
The car drove the familiar mile to the lake.

There waited the moment where everything becomes still.
Me, the lake, and my breathing finding its way home.

A place where the body wakes up and the heart can settle.

Morning mist over a calm lake with jetty; a quiet moment to reflect on children do well if they can and gentle, respectful care.

Step by step down into the water.
Feet first — a shock, a whisper: “You are here now.”
Those gasping breaths when the body meets the cold.

And then that moment when everything stops.
Where silence becomes sound and the now is all that exists.
Me and the water — we know each other now.

Climbing up again, the body fizzes with life.
As if the blood is bubbling, like someone dropped a fizzy tablet inside me.

The mile home, warmth returning from the clothes.
And the love held in gratitude:
that I gave myself this moment that reminds me
that I am alive.

Here.
Now.

Children do well if they can approach – in everyday life

In my work, I have carried the phrase: Children do well if they can.
It sounds so obvious — until you forget it.

Like that evening when a young person sat with their hood pulled low and refused to speak.
No answers. Just silence.
I can become frustrated, but the truth in the moment is often: he couldn’t.

And if I start thinking that he won’t,
something happens inside me.
My voice gets a little harder.
My shoulders tense.
The air in the room gets thinner.

When we believe in unwillingness instead of inability,
our tone and demands harden.
And then we risk losing each other.

Children do well if they can.
If they don’t — they can’t, not today.

Energy may be missing.
Or safety.
Or the right words.
Or the feeling of being worthy of success.

And in those small moments, the child learns something important:
Not only what is expected
— but who I am as an adult
when things are difficult.

Children always learn.
The question is what they learn from us.

Read more texts about Oskar → https://malix.se/oskar-serien-npf-skola/

When we forget — and when we remember

Sometimes I have forgotten all of this.
Then I go home with a heavy knot in my stomach.

But the evenings when I held this belief close,
even in the chaos and conflict,
that knot has instead whispered:

Yes, we did it. Together.

Because children should not carry that kind of shame.
It settles into the body, the self-image, the heart.
It can become a lifelong companion that is hard to remove.

Learn more about children’s rights → https://www.bris.se/

Sorry — when responsibility belongs to me

Losing face hurts everyone.
But I would rather be the one losing it
than letting the one I meet lose theirs.

Sorry is a healing word.
But only when it does not carry blame.

Sorry I did that, but it was because you…
That because you destroys everything.
It is not saying sorry.
It is justifying what I did
and placing the blame on you.

I am responsible for my behavior no matter what the other person does.
If I respond with harshness, I am the one owing an apology.
Not because you did wrong —
but because I did.

Sorry is not bending down.
It is holding on to the heart.

Method – Children do well if they can in practice

When it gets difficult, try asking these three questions:

What is missing right now for the child to succeed?
How can I reduce shame in this situation?
How can I help the child keep their dignity in front of others?

This is children do well if they can in practice.

Shame or healing?

Shame says: I am wrong.
Healing says: I am worth trying again.

We choose, every time,
which path we lay in a child’s heart.

AHA — between the lines

Pain in the body is temporary.
Pain from shame can become lifelong
if no one catches the child.

Yesterday can leave traces in someone’s today
and far beyond.
That is why right now matters.
What I say today
someone else may carry through their life.

Right now is where I can take responsibility
and choose how to respond.