I would say that I had a fairly normal childhood. I played outside, read books, had lots of toys, and watched Saturday morning cartoons. I also have two great parents who weren’t always perfect, but who is? What matters is that they loved me, fed me, clothed me, and encouraged my education. Growing up I knew what my parent’s limitations were. My mother was diagnosed with depression after my birth, so I never knew her any differently. My father was prone to anger, possibly even dealing with his own undiagnosed personality disorder and I learned how to recognize their good days from their bad. There were many instances where I was the only one moving around inside my home, as my father was working my mother would sometimes be asleep in the dark in her own room. There were times when I misbehaved, and my father would pull out the holey belt from his closet. One time, when I was nine, I had made my father so angry that he removed a wooden plaque hanging on my wall, bent me over my bed, and broke the wood across my lower back. It took him four swings before it cracked. Ultimately, the rare physical punishments I received was nothing compared to the emotional toll of coming out to my parents. This was something that strained our relationship for half a decade, through my teenage years and into adulthood. Still, I love my parents for all of their shortcomings, and I know that they have always been on my side, wishing for my happiness. As a soon-to-be parent, I’ve been spending a lot of time reflecting on the type of authority figure that I want to be. Admittedly, I know that it’s weird to be writing my third monthly blog about parenthood when I have still yet to receive guardianship of a child in care. On one hand, I hope every child in the world is being raised by caring parents and my services as a guardian are not needed, but on the other hand, I have a fervent desire to be needed and no outlet for all my nurturing skills. Fortunately, this time for reflection has greatly increased my motivation to tackle topics that may differ pre-placement versus after gaining more experience. It has also allowed me the time to better delve into my fears of becoming a parent. Namely, what if I’m still searching for happiness and this is detrimental to the growth of my own children? Sure, I know that growth isn’t a straight line, it zigzags and goes in circles, and sometimes new forms of grief affect our ability to grow. It is this reason that I feel so fragile. How do I know that I can bare the weight of a child’s trauma against my own? Over the past few weeks, it has become increasingly likely that my family will be burying multiple loved ones this year. Personally, death is one form of grief that I do not fear because I believe wholeheartedly that our spirits return to the living force and we will see each other after this mortal experience. When Old Ben Kenobi said, “If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine,” I took that to heart. However, I’ve been pondering what my plan will be for when these deaths occur, and I am faced with the task of being a comforter as well as a mourner. My grandmother and my father-in-law are both facing the next chapter in their spiritual existence and this is the first time that I’ve realized that my children will not have a relationship with either of them. Sure, death is a part of life, but I view it as my main priority to shield the children in my care from witnessing more grief. As one may expect, there is no bigger topic in the world of foster care, or child development, than trauma. It is the participation trophy of life. The cherry on top of a sundae made entirely of bantha poo. Trauma is the reminder that even as we heal from our wounds and we try to live a “normal” life, our experiences still greatly affect our perception and reaction to day-to-day events. For those of us with expansive amounts of trauma, and especially for traumatized children, navigating the unfamiliar can be terrifying and the familiar can be triggering. The way that I cope with my own trauma-induced depression often leaves me searching for artificial happiness. Sometimes I get caught up in a book and I try to model my life similarly to the fictional characters. I get addicted to a new Starbucks drink and all I want to do is drive around sipping on sunshine and listening to music in my car. I even go on benders where I obsess over Star Wars theories and purchase fandom merch online. If someone were to look at my brain from the inside, I imagine a significant amount of my mental space is still filled up with processing that past trauma. Sure, the rest of my brain is probably made up of Star Wars references, mental snapshots of hot dudes, and memes, but a big part of who I am comes from how I’ve processed the hurt in my own life. And even though I can recognize my current coping strategies, I will be forced to find new ones that allow me to include a child into my process. At this point in my journey, I probably have more questions than actual answers. It’s also likely that I’m at that stage of pre-parenthood where I’m having doubts. The freshness of deciding to be a parent has worn off. The mania of nesting is over. I’m still in that “waiting period” where I’m excited to meet the child, but as every day goes by and I’m alone with my thoughts, another worry slips into my head. Realistically, I know that nobody is entirely ready to be a parent, and I’m sure no one feels completely grown up in their twenties. So, there’s no honest answer to how I’ll cope until that time comes. Here’s what I do know: First, I know that my primary goal is to minimize trauma in the life of the child I care for. The fact that I’m thinking about these topics before I’ve even met the child means that I am taking this responsibility seriously. My role as a guardian will be defined as a comforter and a protector. Second, I have been trained with the skills needed to address emotions in childhood development, including grief and anger. When the time comes that I must face these emotions in myself, my family and my husband, I have the vocabulary needed to help my child process what is happening around them. Finally, physical punishment has no place in my home and the children in my care will not know the significance of a holey belt. My fear of passing on my own trauma is misguided. Even though I am still figuring out who I am, that doesn’t mean I will be any less of a caregiver. Sometimes we think we aren’t ready for a padawan, even as the youngling is already looking up at us. Maybe it’s a universal feeling to still be seeking guidance while pretending to have the answers. Truthfully, tackling trauma is going to be a recurring theme as I continue to chronicle my experiences. In many instances, I will be helping a child navigate their emotions. This task would only be made more difficult if I didn’t take the time to address my own. Whether you’re a princess who watched her planet explode, a farm boy whose own father cut off his hand, or a smuggler with commitment issues, I’ll see you in therapy. -Erick L. Graham Wood [email protected]
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Erick L. Graham WoodHello there! Archives
June 2023
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