Striving to Be the Adult Children Need

I occasionally feel the urge to tackle. It's a thought that's there and gone with no threat of turning into action. I played football as a boy, on neighborhood lawns with other kids, then later in full pads through middle school. I recall a couple instances from that time that involved me slamming my body into that of another person, but the collisions of my impulsive thoughts are different that the actual moments, if only because the reality of tackling is usually accompanied by a bit of pain. Whereas the tackling of my imagination is more like a sudden merging of energy, a dissolving my self into the self of another. 

I feel a little vulnerable sharing this urge with the world at large because I don't want to be judged as a violent person. But honestly, there is a kind of violence in the impulse, although I genuinely have no desire to cause harm. Indeed, in my internal world of urges, it would only be satisfying if the other person slammed into me with an equal intent and force.

It's about a certain kind of impact, I guess, something I'm not sure I've ever actually experienced, nor do I ever expect to. Yet the thought pops up unpredictably, although usually it coincides with times when my mind wanders, sometimes as I'm dozing off.

I imagine this is part of why I empathize when young children give in to their urges. I have my own urge to act in "forbidden" ways. We say that their prefrontal cortex is still forming, that they lack the executive function necessary to control themselves, that they need us to support them until that part of their brain is fully formed. According to National Institute for Health that not until around 25-years-old. Some researchers say it's closer to 30.

I've never heard of any other adult who has this urge to tackle, although I know that at least some young children share it with me because, you know, some of them act on it, slamming their body into someone else without any apparent anger or ulterior purpose. If anything, their facial expressions show joy. If I make the mistake of asking them why they did it, they say, "I don't know," and I believe them, because I have my own inexplicable urges.

I suppose I could put my urge into the category of "intrusive thoughts," although in the psychological literature, those are most often defined as "unwanted" and "distressing," often resulting in fear, guilt, or anxiety. They are often associated with stress, trauma, or fatigue. None of that fits my experience. On the other hand, the literature also mentions that intrusive thoughts are "frequently violent" and "do not reflect a person's desires," which does match my experience. This leads me to consider that I have a "mild" version of the condition, if that's possible, one that allows me to better empathize with impulsive behaviors in others.

I identify when I see young children struggle with their impulses. As the adult, my first job is to keep all the children safe. So obviously I have to put a stop to behaviors that are unwanted by others or that may cause bodily harm, but it's also my responsibility to strive to understand. And doing that very often means looking inward in search of common psychological or emotional ground. I can't always find it, but usually there is something we share that allows me to find the compassion I need to be the adult they need to support them.

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