Lesson from a Little Kid’s Nasty Jellyfish Sting

Doodle art of a jellyfish with stingers stinging

My in-laws were at the beach in South Carolina, down from their home in North Carolina. 

On the first day, disaster struck. Four-year-old Callum got stung by a jellyfish. Big time. All over both legs. The pain! The shock! The screams, the tears, the blisters. Super mega owie. 

Parents Dana and Lyle took care of the first aid. Hot water. Baking soda compress. A generous thatching of Band-Aids (technically unnecessary but so satisfying).

They had all three been looking forward to this beach trip for months. But now they wondered: Would the jellyfish attack spoil the whole thing? It was a real question whether Callum would go back into the water for the rest of the trip. 

But Callum did go back in the water. Only in the shallowest little waves at first, where he could see that the water contained no jellyfish. Then later, with either Dana or Lyle holding him. Then on his own, all the way up to his waist, his maximum depth for safety from the undertow and the waves.

One of Dana and Lyle’s many good parenting habits is reflection. They ask Callum about things that happen, and help him say what he learned. 

On their last night at the beach, Dana asked: “What was your favorite part of the trip?”

Callum, who goes from super-silly to super-serious in a flash, paused, then said, “The jellyfish!”

Dana thought she mid-heard him. She said, “That was your favorite part?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh, that’s interesting. Because the jellyfish hurt you badly, didn’t it? Why was that your favorite?” 

“Because I did it. I was okay. It was scary, but you helped me. And Daddy told me what to look for, so I can get away. Like a plastic bag floating in the water.”

“Oh, thanks for telling me that,” said Dana. Nice how my heart attack when I thought you were being eaten by a shark was your favorite thing, she thought. 

What Callum realized was what psychologist Kelly McGonigal teaches. She says, “How we think about hard times can provide stress inoculation.” (There’s a famous Ted Talk. I recommend it if you haven’t seen it.)

Instead of the perfectly reasonable jellyfish story of “That hurt. I never want that to happen again, so I’m staying out of the water,” Callum chose a story for himself of “I am okay. I learned a lot from that. I’m stronger now.”

As McGonigal puts it, the difference between good stress and bad stress, inside our heads, is the story we tell ourselves about what’s happening. 

I hesitated to post this message here in mid-2022 when the world is full of dangerous and outrageous challenges to human life and individual freedom. A mindset shift like this can’t change the outside world. It can’t directly address injustice or the effects of war or get guns off the streets. 

But I decided to stick with the jellyfish story. Because a mindset shift like this can be part of the answer for each of us personally. A mindset shift can help us remember the power we have to survive and adapt. To fight for what we believe in. A mindset shift can reduce worry and fear, thereby helping us preserve our strength. Our mindsets govern our growth.

What’s a jellyfish moment in your life? Where something bad happened, then you got through it, and now you are stronger and smarter? Consider how that story can help you. How you can remind yourself of that story as you navigate the challenges in front of you. 

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