What if your house is not psychologically safe?
I learned about psychological safety at work and I tried to apply it today at "home"
Content Warning /CW/: Emotional abuse.
When you Google “Psychological Safety Quadrants at home,” you get practically zero results
Back in 2022, during a leadership seminar conducted to select managers, my former employer introduced the concept of “Psychological Safety— a shared belief that one will not be punished or humiliated for speaking up with ideas, questions, or mistakes” (Edmonson, 2014). From that batch of graduates, I was handpicked to be the sharer of my good learning experience to the next batch because apparently, I did well in the training. I believe at that time I was still hopeful for my project to work and was generally optimistic because I had a newly-onboarded business development partner who was geared to make things happen with me. A couple of months later, after almost blacking out during a meeting with the company owner while presenting updates for the project we were working on, she resigned. And a couple of months after she left, I ended up resigning as well.
Jonathan Yabut shared this back in 20201:
DO YOU FEEL PSYCHOLOGICALLY SAFE AT WORK?
Psychological safety is the belief that you can question, challenge, or suggest ideas without the fear of being reprimanded (or losing your job) for it.
Studies have shown [Google’s Project Oxygen, 2017] that managers who foster psychological safety among their teams keep their employees happier and perform better at work.
Which quadrant do you fall into at work? And what are you doing about it?
There are four (4) Psychological Safety zones and are practically self-explanatory. Basically, you’d want your org to be in the Learning Zone and stay as best as possible away from the Anxiety, or worse, Apathy Zone; the latter, I associate with quiet quitting.
It’s easy to identify which zone your work falls into because, to a certain degree, you can categorize work because it is just work. However, it’s not as easy as it sounds when you apply the same principle to your home simply because…
It is incredibly difficult to admit that there is something inherently wrong with the place you grew up in.
Traditional homes have had the same parenting style through the centuries, especially in non-Western households. “Parents using this approach expect their children to respect and obey authority (e.g., parents, elders, etc.) and comply with their cultural beliefs and values without questions.”2 To a certain degree, this is acceptable and not all kids turn out dysfunctional when they grow up. But I realized that there is a crucial element to this parenting style and that is the delivery.
All the seminars and training on “Effective Communication” will tell us that it is not only the message—which in this case is the content of parenting style—that matters at home. More often than not, it is also the delivery—which in this case is how the style of parenting was executed—that ultimately affects the child.
But the child will not be able to determine that the delivery was off-putting for various reasons associated with rationalizing why his/her parents’ actions were as such:
“They know better and are just concerned about my future.”
“They’re successful in life so they have the right to discipline me this way. Who am I to question them?”
“I love them and I know they love me so this isn’t a form of hurt. Why should I feel pain?”
I grew up in a house which had a lot of yelling
When my mom and Lola were still alive, they would casually throw curses at each other on random nights for reasons I was too young to understand. One day when I was 5, I would also casually ask my mom: “Mommy, ano po yung ‘punyeta’?” (“Mommy, what is the word ‘punyeta'?”) She was shocked beyond belief and told me never to say that word again. End of conversation.
It would have been nice if I was able to ask that question to another warm body— a sibling perhaps, or maybe just a cousin or aunt. But I was an only child who wasn’t allowed to go out of the house except for school. The question remained a question until I was old enough to understand what that word meant and how one would use it.
To add insult to injury, I also didn’t have a solid relationship with my father because he was too busy at work since I could remember. So shortly after my mom died, I only knew that I had to obey him and follow him because he was putting food on the table and sending me to school; basically giving me every physiological thing I need. He made this clear to me by sharing with me all of his balance sheets and statements of profit and loss. At 10, I would learn about financial statements and how he managed to stay out of debt despite my mom’s three and half years of battling with Cancer. He intends to keep it that way until all his loans are paid off.
“Work hard like me. Find a stable job. No boyfriend until you graduate. Be a good daughter.” Those were his constant reminders.
…Which I followed to the best of my capability. I graduated with honors. I studied and worked hard. I was generally a “good” daughter, I guess. But I didn’t know I was going through grief.
I lost my first ever cellphone, a Nokia 3210 which I’ve saved up religiously for, after just four (4) months of purchase. Careless, I know. It was always a thing with me, I’d lose all my cellphones. I think I’ve lost at least ten (10) units in my life. ADHD much? But I digress.
The morning after I lost that very prized Nokia 3210, I sulked in my room. I was too sad to move and I had no idea what was going on. I just knew I was extremely sad that I wanted to just lie on the bed all day and read books, play my guitar, or stare at the ceiling. I lost my mom when I was 10 and now I’ve lost my cellphone in the third year after she died.
That same morning, I heard my father screaming by my window: “(My name), bumaba ka na! Ano ba yan ang dami daming gagawin sa bahay! Tapos nakahiga ka lang diyan?! Anong magagawa mo eh nawala na nga!” To translate: “(My name), come down from your room! There’s too much chores to do and yet you’re just lying on your bed!? Forget about what happened because it already did!”
Good Lord, I was 13.
I was going through some physiological and emotional changes in my body and I didn’t know how to react to losing something so precious to me. But instead of sympathy (not even empathy), I was yelled at.
“Opo, bababa na. Sorry po.” To translate: “Yes, going down already. I’m sorry.”
Then came the barrage of “parenting dictates:”
At 14: “Bakit hindi mo ginawa yung assignment mo the past 2 days tapos ngayon nangangarag ka matapos yan? Ano ba yang klaseng pag-aaral na yan?!” To translate: Why didn’t you do your assignment during the past 2 days? And now you’re cramming to finish them? What kind of student are you?
At 15: “Sinabi ko nang linisan mo banyo ko! Pagbalik ko, dapat malinis na yan!” To translate: “I told you to clean my CR! When I get back, that should already be clean!”
At 16: “Bakit umabot ng Php4,000 ginrocery mo?! Anong mga pinagbibili mo pala?! Nagsasayang ka ng pera!” To translate: “Why did your grocery reach 4,000 pesos? What the heck did you buy? You’re wasting money!”
And all the other things listed in my Substack entry "Power imbalance and why talk is never always the answer."
The long-term effects on a child
Some kids may realize pretty soon that enough is enough. But that’s because most families have multiple children and a complete set of parents. At least one of them will come to an early realization of the abuse and stand up to the abuser (best case scenario). However, sadly, for someone like me who had no siblings and only had a father, I only realized the abuse when I was already in my mid-30s.
Author and parent educator Laura Markham, Ph.D., has a straightforward message: Your number one job as a parent, after assuring the safety of your children, is to manage your own emotions.
If yelling at children is not a good thing, yelling that comes with verbal putdowns and insults can be qualified as emotional abuse. It’s been shown to have long-term effects, like anxiety, low self-esteem, and increased aggression.3
Funny how all of those above are explicit descriptors of what I am going through. Since I am still living at my childhood home due to a strict mandate to not leave, out of pity and due to economic reasons, let me recognize this once and for all and try to regain the years that I have lost because I was not able to see it for what it truly is: YES, MY FATHER IS EMOTIONALLY ABUSIVE.
So the question now is: What if you realize that your house is not psychologically safe?
First, let’s try to replicate the quadrants and apply them to a household setting. Here’s my first attempt at identifying the…
It’s also pretty straightforward. At the opposing ends are love and indifference. When you can be open to your parents and when they take the time to listen to you, there exists love, no matter what you share with them. Be it a happy incident in school or something hurtful that your classmate said to you. You exist in the Loving Zone.
Or you may tell them over and over again that it was not your fault that you lost your phone and that you are down as well but no matter how much you express these emotions, the blame will always be on you. So you decide to just keep everything to yourself. You stop talking to them and responding to their messages. This is the Indifference Zone.
The latter is the worst zone you would want to be in. Because as they say, indifference is the opposite of love; not hate. Because hate could manifest itself in the Anxiety Zone wherein you still try to be open to your parents despite the constant criticisms. Because they are your parents and you know that at one point in your life, you may seem to hate them but that’s just probably just a phase. At the end of the day, at least the feelings are still there.
Lastly, there’s the Complacency Zone wherein you just go about your days and years until your adulthood because your parents are probably too preoccupied with other things like their friends or the lives of their relatives. They will occasionally ask you “How are you, child?” And you will respond with “OK lang po.” There’s nothing visibly wrong in this situation but you know that there isn’t anything correct with it either. You’re just both perennially sitting in the middle of the scale.
Ask yourself: “Do I feel safe to open up to my parents regardless of my emotions?”
Then follow these guidelines:
If you realize that you are in the Anxiety Zone, CALL FOR HELP4. Reach out to a friend, a guidance counselor, a teacher, a mentor, or another safe soul who you think can at least listen to you and hear your pleas. Let them all out first.
If you realize that you are in the Complacency Zone, know that it is never too late to change. Parents who don’t mind what their kids are doing as long as they’re “OK” tend not to put in the extra work until they grow old. But you are not your parent so get the ball rolling.
If you realize that you are in the Loving Zone, treasure that and love your parents and your family. There is never a perfect family but know that yours will always strive to be one.
If you realize that you are already in the Indifference Zone and have stonewalled your parents, CALL FOR HELP as well. Allow all the emotions to flow. Know that one day it might get better but today, you have to also let these emotions out. Do not bottle them up.
Live one day at a time. Find your own way of coping. Just COPE.
This is mine— I write. I write on days when I feel like it, on days when I feel like I will be judged, on nights when I feel that my energies are still too high so I have to deplete them before bed, and on nights when the tears unceasingly flow. I write.
I couple them with a prayer to see my mom again or at least for her to guide me through the succeeding decades that I have to endure the pain. If I had one more shot at living, I wish to live it with her. But that will never happen so I just try to learn from all of this hurt.
If you’ve been following this Substack, you probably now know that I have emotionally cut off my father. The anger is no longer there but the pain of realizing and putting a name to his emotional abuse still hurts. I try to be hopeful that one day it will get better. But for today, I will just let it be.
These tears I've cried.
I've cried a thousand oceans.
And if it seems I'm floating
In the darkness...
Well, I can't believe that I would keep,
Keep you from flying.
So I will cry a thousand more
If that's what it takes to
Sail you home,
Sail you home,
Sail you home.
1000 Oceans, Tori Amos
Credits to my kuyas:
Luckie for suggesting the build-up
Regie for validating my writing
Hello! Thank you for reading my traumastack— an allusion to a society that fails to break the continuous cycle of terror and trauma. Hence the title “Where have all the flowers gone?” shamelessly copied off of the 1955 song by Pete Seger. Inasmuch as I love flowers, I sometimes do not see their beauty nor notice their presence. So yes, please consider this a real-life dark dramedy. I’ve always wanted to write prose but I know I couldn’t. So I’ll just write from experience. Support my nonsense by subscribing. Or not. Either way. I’m grateful you’re here and you’ve made it this far.
Source: https://www.facebook.com/AAJonathanYabut/photos/a.168225640011508/1508177252683000/?type=3
Source: https://iastate.pressbooks.pub/parentingfamilydiversity/chapter/overindulgent-helicopter-styles/#:~:text=Traditional%20parenting%20is%20when%20parents,lower%20behavioral%20and%20psychological%20problems.
Source: https://www.healthline.com/health/parenting/yelling-at-kids#get-help
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Nice piece! Learned a lot! Very good points.