Sometimes it really is all about me
In the adoption world, people like to remind each other that so much of what goes on... past trauma, behaviors, meltdowns, hurt, pain... isn't really about us as parents. It is the working out of a child's past hurt and pain and fear. We cannot take it personally because it isn't. And I agree with this 100%, though I will also be the first in line to say that it can be very difficult some times to remember that I am not the center of the drama playing out around me.
But I think there is something else that goes on when doing hard parenting that we miss if we hold the 'it's not about me' line too hard, because sometimes it genuinely is all about me.
It's all about me when my assumptions or fears or expectations or pride are getting in the way of helping my child exist to the best of their abilities. I know you all have heard this before, but when we first began adopting, we had it all figured out. We were good parents. There were certain things that good parents did, certain ways that children of good parents acted, certain ways that good families functioned, and we did them. We were committed to being good parents with a good family. I will be the first to admit that there was a lot of personal pride in that. It all helped me to feel competent and valuable.
Adopting and parenting older children has done a terrific job of teaching me that I don't have it all figured out. I've also learned that my vision of what good parents and good families look like is a lot broader than I had originally believed. I also learned that behavior has more to do with communication (or the inability to communicate) than parenting, good or bad. It has been fourteen years of learning some hard and painful lessons, often having to do with my own beliefs, both examined and unexamined.
I've changed my view of what a good parent looks like. A good parent is one that is willing to do the hard work to examine themselves and ask hard questions. Why is it so hard for me to be the one to bend first? What fear do I have that I don't know about that makes this such a painful concept? Why do certain things make me so angry? Since anger masks fear 99% of the time, what am I afraid these things say about me? These are not easy things to contemplate.
The other thing that I have had to confront is the question of what if my child never heals or gets better? Am I okay with that? Or, do I have to wrestle with the idea that I adopted a child under false pretenses... those being that I am happy to adopt a child with needs because my superior home and the medical care I have access to will make them all better. I am happy to adopt a child with needs if my imagined future of the child being completely healed and 'normal' is the end result. It is nice to nurture a mental picture of being someone's savior. It feels good. If makes me feel (once again) that I am valuable and important and competent. It makes me feel as though I had something to do with the changes wrought in my child. But if that is what I believe then the converse must also be true. If my child does not get better, does not heal, does not become 'normal' then it must be my fault. It also raises the more difficult question of how does this child fit in with my own mental expectations of how the future is supposed to look. And having a future not meet our expectations can be yet another thing that can cause significant fear masquerading a anger.
Here's the other hard truth that I have had to learn. I am not my children's savior... not for their physical health, their mental well-being, nor their spiritual salvation. It was never my role, even if there was a part deep down that thought it was. And there might not be true healing for my children this side of Heaven. We might not see our children do all that we had envisioned for them. We might not ever see them have the peace that we would wish for them. And we have to learn to be content with that. Accepting a child where he or she is while holding out hope that there could be more for that child is one of the most difficult tightropes to walk.
Should we stop hoping for our children? No, of course not. But we do have to stop tying love and affection to progress. We have to stop focusing on the not yet and thinking that is when life will get better, when accepting the now could also make the present a lot more manageable. We have to be willing to not give up loving them when they don't meet our expectations.
Sometimes life is hard because it's hard. Sometimes life if hard because we allow it to be hard when we won't release our expectations of what we wanted life to look like. If you are a person of faith, then you have got to stop trying to take over God's job of the salvation business and give the control back over to Him.
Do I have this all figured out? No, not by a long shot, but I am getting better. Being humble enough to see my role in my perceived difficulties is still hard work, but I get to that point a little sooner each time. Stopping and doing the hard work of figuring out what is frightening me is still unpleasant, but is becoming more of a habit. And being still and letting God take care of things is, let's say, a developing skill. Well, maybe it's emerging; it depends on the day.
(There was an unpleasant adoption related story going around today. Make of this post what you will. Personally, unless there are mitigating circumstances, I don't believe children should pay the price for adults not willing to be responsible.)
But I think there is something else that goes on when doing hard parenting that we miss if we hold the 'it's not about me' line too hard, because sometimes it genuinely is all about me.
It's all about me when my assumptions or fears or expectations or pride are getting in the way of helping my child exist to the best of their abilities. I know you all have heard this before, but when we first began adopting, we had it all figured out. We were good parents. There were certain things that good parents did, certain ways that children of good parents acted, certain ways that good families functioned, and we did them. We were committed to being good parents with a good family. I will be the first to admit that there was a lot of personal pride in that. It all helped me to feel competent and valuable.
Adopting and parenting older children has done a terrific job of teaching me that I don't have it all figured out. I've also learned that my vision of what good parents and good families look like is a lot broader than I had originally believed. I also learned that behavior has more to do with communication (or the inability to communicate) than parenting, good or bad. It has been fourteen years of learning some hard and painful lessons, often having to do with my own beliefs, both examined and unexamined.
I've changed my view of what a good parent looks like. A good parent is one that is willing to do the hard work to examine themselves and ask hard questions. Why is it so hard for me to be the one to bend first? What fear do I have that I don't know about that makes this such a painful concept? Why do certain things make me so angry? Since anger masks fear 99% of the time, what am I afraid these things say about me? These are not easy things to contemplate.
The other thing that I have had to confront is the question of what if my child never heals or gets better? Am I okay with that? Or, do I have to wrestle with the idea that I adopted a child under false pretenses... those being that I am happy to adopt a child with needs because my superior home and the medical care I have access to will make them all better. I am happy to adopt a child with needs if my imagined future of the child being completely healed and 'normal' is the end result. It is nice to nurture a mental picture of being someone's savior. It feels good. If makes me feel (once again) that I am valuable and important and competent. It makes me feel as though I had something to do with the changes wrought in my child. But if that is what I believe then the converse must also be true. If my child does not get better, does not heal, does not become 'normal' then it must be my fault. It also raises the more difficult question of how does this child fit in with my own mental expectations of how the future is supposed to look. And having a future not meet our expectations can be yet another thing that can cause significant fear masquerading a anger.
Here's the other hard truth that I have had to learn. I am not my children's savior... not for their physical health, their mental well-being, nor their spiritual salvation. It was never my role, even if there was a part deep down that thought it was. And there might not be true healing for my children this side of Heaven. We might not see our children do all that we had envisioned for them. We might not ever see them have the peace that we would wish for them. And we have to learn to be content with that. Accepting a child where he or she is while holding out hope that there could be more for that child is one of the most difficult tightropes to walk.
Should we stop hoping for our children? No, of course not. But we do have to stop tying love and affection to progress. We have to stop focusing on the not yet and thinking that is when life will get better, when accepting the now could also make the present a lot more manageable. We have to be willing to not give up loving them when they don't meet our expectations.
Sometimes life is hard because it's hard. Sometimes life if hard because we allow it to be hard when we won't release our expectations of what we wanted life to look like. If you are a person of faith, then you have got to stop trying to take over God's job of the salvation business and give the control back over to Him.
Do I have this all figured out? No, not by a long shot, but I am getting better. Being humble enough to see my role in my perceived difficulties is still hard work, but I get to that point a little sooner each time. Stopping and doing the hard work of figuring out what is frightening me is still unpleasant, but is becoming more of a habit. And being still and letting God take care of things is, let's say, a developing skill. Well, maybe it's emerging; it depends on the day.
(There was an unpleasant adoption related story going around today. Make of this post what you will. Personally, unless there are mitigating circumstances, I don't believe children should pay the price for adults not willing to be responsible.)
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