Our New 'Normal'.

Bleary-eyed, sleep-filled, lola comes downstairs to join the breakfast gathering... She leans in for a cuddle, I put my arm around her, kissing her head. My other arm rests on the kitchen counter, I sip hot coffee as I practice my morning gratitude ritual (simply naming 5 things I am grateful for, I try not to always make number one wine), marvelling at the kids and their abilities, their wide-eyed, joy-filled personalities, contagious is their energy; I marvel at how different the times are that we are now living in - how far apart from the early days we are, how far we have come: flurry of week-end breakfast activity, pancake frying, smoothie making whizzing away, kettle on - it's a veritable hub of life and happiness and fun. There are 9 kids here this morning, and I begin to reassess the sanity behind my 'open-door' policy!

This is our new 'normal'. We are all aware that no matter how many other people are there, the one main character is not: their daddy is not; and sometimes that pain smarts.

Grief has affected each of my children differently; each different age and stage offers with it a different path of learning for them - to understand who their dad now is, and indeed who they are and who they are becoming as a result. As teenagers, play therapy is not a desired intervention or particularly helpful technique - they would laugh in my face if I suggested clay modelling or finger painting! So finding ways round talking and helping them move through their grief, without over or under-doing it, is a tricky task at times! I will be covering ways I have found of helping them at different ages over the course of time. 

Checking-in

One of my children I needed to 'check-in' with this weekend. We have had a few discussions recently about the anger they are feeling. Having got to the roots of this - that they felt abandoned by their dad, even though they recognised it was not his fault - I suggested counselling at school.

"Have you thought about it further?" I ask, 

"Yes, I did, but I decided that because I can talk to you about everything, I don't feel the need. With you I know what I want to say and I feel like you get me." 

Suppressing the 'yes! I am getting something a little bit right in the teenage years' dance of victory and taking a deep, measured breath instead, I respond: 

"I love that you feel able to talk to me, and you know I am always here and always will be angel face (oh yes - they will never be too old for me to call them that!), but I would never be offended or hurt if you felt there were things you couldn't discuss and wanted to discuss with someone else" 

"I know, but I realised you are my counsellor mum..."

Well that did it for me, and I cuddle my child and allow a couple of my tears to fall as they too dissolve into tears. My child proceeds,
"...And the only other person I would want to discuss this with is dad...and I can't"

This is often what has been said to me by this particular soul of mine. Not being able to chat things through with their daddy. 

Allowing and Validating vs Protection

As parents I think we always want to protect our children from any pain; seeing our child in pain or suffering emotionally is heart breaking.

As a single parent, often winging it and just putting stuff out there, hoping-against-hope that I am not irreparably fluffing them up! All I can respond with at times to their pain is the acknowledgement, the validation of their feelings; the comfort and the encouragement - letting them know how extraordinarily incredible they are for dealing with what they do. 

I cannot fix them.

I cannot protect them from their pain.

This is their path - I can accompany them, advise, love and nurture them, but I cannot take their pain away.

Pain Becoming Constructive

So the pain needs to become constructive. I have to role model how pain constructs if you choose, it does not destruct and break - it can, if you let it! But through many open discussions with the "I wonder what you feel you have learned from daddy not being here like he used to be...?" preemptive question, gently, my children have articulated the strengths they have gained from the tragedy. 

Dealing with each individual child is a separate learning curve, their own unique way of expressing themselves and how they feel comfortable communicating is paramount to successful communication with them and helping them through their grief. I have an enormous amount of respect for my children - and I feel that they have worked as hard as I have in finding ways to cope.

They have become wildly compassionate, utterly accepting, open, loving, put-any-one-at-ease children. Able to communicate and express in (mostly!) non-confrontational ways. They are friends. And the impact they have on me as a grown up (as I stand in awe of these beings) is unquantifiable. 

That's what I got from my kitchen coffee moment the other morning! 

Tamsyn x