So, one of the things we talked about last night is how everyone longs to belong; that attachment needs exist from the cradle to the grave. And, if those attachment needs aren't met within a family structure, a child/teen/adult will search for attachment and acceptance elsewhere. And - what elements of our society always have their door open? Gangs and cults. It's easy to get in; you are always welcome but once you're there, your life will never be the same.
This morning, I was listening to an interview with a former Neo-Nazi from Vancouver. He talked openly about how "he traded his humanity for acceptance." How he was looking for somewhere to fit in, a place that would accept him and give him a place to belong. He also talked about how he was struck by the fact that this was the same for all the people he met at a "Summit for Violent Extremists" that he attended in Dublin.
That one line haunts me still: I traded my humanity for acceptance.
This attachment work is hard. It's kick-your-butt hard, but it's so important.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Connect
I strongly believe in being resourceful, in searching out help and guidance in many different forms. My own opinion is that many parents, believing that they should 'go it alone' in adoption, cocoon within their own homes and struggle daily all by themselves. It's so easy to believe that you are the only one wading through the muck to attachment and healing.
A few months back, we reached out and found this resource (started at Maples, but now offered around the province and around the world.) We are committed to eleven weeks; the third session is in just a few hours. Although I consider myself fairly well educated on attachment, trauma, the impact of early neglect, etc., I am still learning something every night.
I like that the sessions are short (one hour + a free dinner each night). I like that it is a well-structured program, with a simple handout at the end of each session. I also like that we are given a challenge each week to focus on. Last week's was to "interpret your child's behaviour in a different way." I'm really keeping in mind a concept from the first week - one's (mis)behaviour is a way of saying that something is not right.
We've already seen changes in our family as we change our own reactions and interpretations. After all, we are the adults here. It's our responsibility to suck it up and do the work. The kids have their own work to do, but it has to begin with us (in my opinion anyway.)
It really all comes down to relationship, doesn't it? And, as a good friend of mine likes to say, "Relationships are not for wimps." I'd add a codicil: Neither is parenting!
A few months back, we reached out and found this resource (started at Maples, but now offered around the province and around the world.) We are committed to eleven weeks; the third session is in just a few hours. Although I consider myself fairly well educated on attachment, trauma, the impact of early neglect, etc., I am still learning something every night.
I like that the sessions are short (one hour + a free dinner each night). I like that it is a well-structured program, with a simple handout at the end of each session. I also like that we are given a challenge each week to focus on. Last week's was to "interpret your child's behaviour in a different way." I'm really keeping in mind a concept from the first week - one's (mis)behaviour is a way of saying that something is not right.
We've already seen changes in our family as we change our own reactions and interpretations. After all, we are the adults here. It's our responsibility to suck it up and do the work. The kids have their own work to do, but it has to begin with us (in my opinion anyway.)
It really all comes down to relationship, doesn't it? And, as a good friend of mine likes to say, "Relationships are not for wimps." I'd add a codicil: Neither is parenting!
Thursday, February 23, 2012
A gift of song
During my regular work day, I tend to move from one item on my "to do" list to the next without taking a breath. I leave home before my kids are awake, drive for an hour to work and then just get on with the business at hand for the next six or eight hours. Whatever. I'm the at-work parent, so that's just what I have to do.
Yesterday, however, I walked into my office to hear the opening notes of Rascal Flatts' "I Won't Let Go." This is a song that has made me pull my car over so I could cry without causing an accident. It's a song that I sing to myself when things are less than stellar. The lyrics simply resonate within me, healing a piece of me that has been hurt as I help my children to heal. I actually just sat at my desk and stared out the window, listening to the lyrics and letting the words and melody soothe my soul for a few moments.
Sometimes, poets and musicians can heal with their gifts. Words and music can be another form of support, and I, for one, will take all the support I can get on "those" days when it's all just too much.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Less than 100
How did that happen? All of a sudden, we're less than 100 days away to our second Moms Away retreat. I am starting to panic a wee bit, as the second house is not filled yet. I haven't started making meal plans or anything. However, I'm taking a deep breath and just letting it go.
One of the successes of the weekend last year was the fact that there was no formal agenda. The women arrived when they did, shopped, talked, napped, laughed, cried, etc. when it was right for them. Not when it was right for me. Sometimes, I have to get out of my own way and just believe it will work out how it is supposed to.
Having said that, I do like to cook and care for large groups of people, so I hope we get a few more registrations in the next 70 days or so.
Between now and then, I just have to remember to breath in and out and to let things unfold as they should.
Ninety-five days and counting
One of the successes of the weekend last year was the fact that there was no formal agenda. The women arrived when they did, shopped, talked, napped, laughed, cried, etc. when it was right for them. Not when it was right for me. Sometimes, I have to get out of my own way and just believe it will work out how it is supposed to.
Having said that, I do like to cook and care for large groups of people, so I hope we get a few more registrations in the next 70 days or so.
Between now and then, I just have to remember to breath in and out and to let things unfold as they should.
Ninety-five days and counting
Friday, February 3, 2012
Mama2Mama
I've been thinking a lot lately about the support that women provide for each other in so many different ways. It is so easy to believe that you are the only person going through this bewildering, sometimes agonizing, role of being a parent through adoption. (I prefer not to say adoptive parent as it is the parenting that defines me, not the adopting. Adoption was a moment; parenting is a lifetime.)
Anyway, back to what I was saying. It is easy to feel alone, afraid, overwhelmed, even embarrassed. I've been there. I've always considered myself a fairly intelligent, successful person. There weren't too many things that I felt could throw me off-balance. Infertility was certainly one of them, and it seems like parenting is another! In both of these journeys, I felt like I had no control over the process or the outcome. And, as an educator, I am rather attached to outcomes. I like good grades, a good paycheque, praise from those around me; you get the picture.
Well - almost six years into my parenting journey, I still have days when I feel like a rookie. Days when I would prefer not to tackle the issue at hand. Days when I don't want to be all therapeutic and focused on my child's healing. There are days when I'd just like to say, "deal with it" and walk out of the room. (There may even be days when those exact words are spoken - just saying, there might be those days every now and again.)
I have found a depth of understanding and reassurance in the women who I've met along the way. Friends I knew BA (before adoption) are still around, but those relationships have taken a beating. I don't want to make my kids look bad by telling the truth; yet, I need to tell the truth to someone. I need to say the words, "This is really flipping hard. I don't like this at all."
And, yet, I need to respect my children and their stories. I hesitate to write even this much, for I don't want my children to ever, ever feel that I regret the decision to join my life with theirs. I know that they would, if asked, say "This is really flipping hard. I don't like this at all" as well.
For me, those rare moments when I can come face-to-face with my own limitations in a nurturing, reciprocating environment are the moments that keep me going through the tough stuff.
I hope that, if you're reading this, you too have a network of support. (As always, I invite you to join our retreat in May, but this post is not really just for that.)
See you in May!
Teresa
Anyway, back to what I was saying. It is easy to feel alone, afraid, overwhelmed, even embarrassed. I've been there. I've always considered myself a fairly intelligent, successful person. There weren't too many things that I felt could throw me off-balance. Infertility was certainly one of them, and it seems like parenting is another! In both of these journeys, I felt like I had no control over the process or the outcome. And, as an educator, I am rather attached to outcomes. I like good grades, a good paycheque, praise from those around me; you get the picture.
Well - almost six years into my parenting journey, I still have days when I feel like a rookie. Days when I would prefer not to tackle the issue at hand. Days when I don't want to be all therapeutic and focused on my child's healing. There are days when I'd just like to say, "deal with it" and walk out of the room. (There may even be days when those exact words are spoken - just saying, there might be those days every now and again.)
I have found a depth of understanding and reassurance in the women who I've met along the way. Friends I knew BA (before adoption) are still around, but those relationships have taken a beating. I don't want to make my kids look bad by telling the truth; yet, I need to tell the truth to someone. I need to say the words, "This is really flipping hard. I don't like this at all."
And, yet, I need to respect my children and their stories. I hesitate to write even this much, for I don't want my children to ever, ever feel that I regret the decision to join my life with theirs. I know that they would, if asked, say "This is really flipping hard. I don't like this at all" as well.
For me, those rare moments when I can come face-to-face with my own limitations in a nurturing, reciprocating environment are the moments that keep me going through the tough stuff.
I hope that, if you're reading this, you too have a network of support. (As always, I invite you to join our retreat in May, but this post is not really just for that.)
See you in May!
Teresa
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