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Drawing showing a regulated child. Her brain is being run by her curly grey matter (Cory) and she is calm, can listen and learn. It shows a fast transformation to dysregulated. This person is under the control of her amygdala (Amy) which is the fear centre of the brain. She cannot listen and learn, and her cortex is offline. The transformation back to regulated can be slow and take hours.

What Is an Amygdala Hijack and How Can You Help?

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‘You’re HURTING ME!’ they cry. ‘Stop SHOUTING!!!!’ they yell.

What’s happening at these moments, when your child is beside themselves and they seem hypersensitive to every small thing you try to keep them safe and calm? When a whisper appears ear-splittingly loud and a featherlike touch is like being branded with a hot poker?

The Thinking Brain

When a child perceives a threat, their thinking brain, the curly grey matter or cortex (we’ll call him Cory) processes the information and decides how best to respond. Cory might override the emotional amygdala (Amy) and tell her to calm down, because it was ‘just’ a car door banging. And miraculously, Cory stays in charge and Amy has a little huff, but sashays out of the way.

But there are times when Amy decides that this is serious, so she punches Cory and seizes control. What happens next can seem wildly disproportionate, extreme, intense. Your child is in fight, flight, freeze or fawn mode, an automatic response to danger that’s run by the amygdala (Amy). For some children, Amy is more sensitive than others, constantly alert for danger and likely to respond with greater intensity than other (neuro-typical or non-traumatised) children.

When Cory is in charge, a person is regulated. When it’s Amy, then they’re dysregulated (also known as hyperarousal).

Regulation

Regulation is our default mode. It is when we can think, process, listen, learn, respond, react. We can draw upon knowledge and experience to size up situations and respond. As parents, we need to remain regulated to handle our child’s amygdala hijack. Things are likely to go downhill quickly if we panic or get overly stressed by it, because two dysregulated people adds up to utter carnage.

When we (or our child) are regulated, we’ll be relaxed, our movements will be fluid, our pupils will respond appropriately to light levels, our breathing will be calm, our limbs will flow, our skin will have good blood supply. We will adjust our volume, tone, pace to suit the conversation. We might be sad, excited, anxious, frustrated; and yet we remain regulated.

Dysregulation In An Instant

But something happens (we might trip and fall), or emotions build slowly until they hit overload and we push out of our window of tolerance and into dysregulation. Amy is the fear and panic centre of the brain and has a limited range of responses (fight/ flight etc). Our children act like rabbits in the headlights, goading, or running at full pelt. My daughter flees; my son freezes with a side of fighting.

When Amy is in charge, then our bodies will be tense, angular, our pupils might dilate so we can see better. Our breathing will likely be fast, short, panting; our heart will be racing in our chests. Our faces may pale as blood diverts to our muscles. We might get sweaty palms or goosebumps on our arms. We might shout, yell, push people away, run away.

Many children struggle to identify the early warning signals that are clues to an imminent amygdala hijack – my own children have sensory processing issues such that feeling hot or clammy or noticing a racing heart is beyond them. Which makes life tricky as we can’t take evasive action to disarm the hijacker (Amy).

An amygdala hijack is when Amy is in control of their brains and we have to deal with her, because Cory is offline.

How To Make Things Worse…

We can’t reason with Amy. She’s not listening. As parents, by trial and bruises, we discovered all the things NOT to do:.

  • Touching the person – a hug, squeeze, even a light touch, makes our daughter explode. She’s not all that keen when not aroused. Remember in fight or flight mode, all our senses are heightened. For children who are sensitive to touch, then any physical contact at this point is like punching them. I cannot tell you how many times our children yelled ‘you hurt me‘ when we tried to hold them during a hijack thinking we were doing the right thing to keep them safe.
  • Raised voices. I get it. The whole situation is super stressful. You might be freaking out (and even dysregulated). But, as above, children who are already sensitive to noise hear even a raised firm voice as unbearable. My children would yell ‘stop shouting at me‘ even when we didn’t think we were and sometimes burst into tears at the unbearable pain that a loud voice inflicted on their super sensitive hearing.
  • Being too close. My children’s bodies ripple with tension that I dearly want to soothe away. But they want to be left well alone. Stay safe and out of kicking or hitting distance if that is what your child needs.
  • Soothing, calming noises. Sounds like the right idea, but if I’ve learnt one thing, asking a dysregulated child to ‘calm down’ is like pouring petrol on a fire in the hope of putting it out. It’s only going to make things worse.

How To Make Things Better…

It’s detective time. What works for one child may not work for another, and what went brilliantly one day, might exacerbate things today. For my children, the generally successful (but not guaranteed) approach is:

  • Breathe. This is about keeping yourself calm. You might put your hand on your stomach and deliberately breathe deeply so that your child might notice your hand rising and falling. But often Amy doesn’t give two hoots about breathing, because she’s not all that keen on relinquishing control.
  • Stay close but do not touch. Depending on the situation, we might be sat outside their bedroom, across the room, or at the other end of a bench. We stay close (to keep them safe) but well out of arms (and kicks) reach, leaving clear air between our bodies. As they calm down, we might gently stroke a hand (but only by moving our hand slowly towards and backing off if they flinch away). You’ll get to know when they might be able to be hugged.
  • Stay silent. Nothing we say is going to make this situation better. Because talking is processed by Cory, and he’s not here. Amy speaks fear and panic only, so the less you say (preferably nothing at all) the better.
  • Hugging Toys. Whilst touching other humans can be triggering, some children can find hugging something cuddly tight to their body (a pillow, coat or toy) soothing. I’ve been known to stroke my daughter’s face with the ear of her favourite cuddly bunny and that’s met with more success than touching her directly.
  • Wait. Time is the most powerful tool you have. I’ve read that it takes six seconds for the adrenaline rush to calm down. That’s your golden window for quiet space. Whilst an amygdala hijack is often instantaneous, the reverse process can take minutes, hours, sometimes days (depending on the trigger, the child, their brain, neurodiversity and more).

Then What?

As the child starts to calm, then having specific extra-calming activities to hand can help to reset their bodies and help them recover from the stress hormones that have flooded their system.

  • chewing (gum or sweets)
  • sucking (particularly thick liquids like smoothies or milkshakes through thin straws)
  • eating (to reset their blood sugar levels which can be disturbed by the fight/ flight response)
  • listening to music, movement, and
  • distraction can all help.

My son (who freezes) would respond really well to Lego as a distraction. I’d rattle the box, chatting merrily to myself about whatever it was I was building. He couldn’t get himself out of a funk, but his natural curiosity and love of Lego would gradually overcome his mood and he would slowly come out from under his duvet, peek at what I was doing and eventually join in, building with me.

Safety Is Your Priority

As Sarah Fisher says in her book “Connective Parenting” the two most essential steps are keeping people safe, and staying regulated. Everything else can wait.

Sometimes you sit outside a room whilst your child throws stuff around (and you pray they don’t up-end the box containing a thousand pieces of Lego). Amy is unpredictable and wild. So you keep your distance and keep yourself safe. And you wait for them to calm. Because they will, eventually. Amy is no marathon runner. She’s a sprinter. Thank goodness.

Yes, I know how hard it is to handle these situations when Amy hijacks them in a busy public place (when a stranger touches her hair, darn them). But knowing what to do, and how best to react, gives everyone the best possible chance of calming down and recovering the situation. We try to make sure we (or the children) always carry fidgets, worry stones and chewing gum for emergencies.

What are your best strategies for helping a child who is dysregulated/ hyper-aroused or experiencing an amygdala hijack? Let me know in the comments

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A large 12 decorated with candles, a map of the UK, the seaside, a bunny, a dog, and the image from "And Then There Were Four" which is four people cut from paper.

We Are Twelve (Years Old)

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Twelve years ago, our children came to live with us. The two of them (brother and sister) came and made us a family of four.

How has it been twelve years already?

We still remember that first night, where we thought they’d gone to bed exhausted and congratulated ourselves until our son woke in fear and cried for ages. We tried everything until Andy found a spot half-way up the stairs where he settled. We’ve no idea why, but we suspect it was sea of beige that had no reminders of the fact he was somewhere different, new, strange.

The Toughest Year Yet

Those early months were tricky – mostly due to the constant demands and utter exhaustion that dogged our steps and brains. Oh, for the simple joy of swinging them higher and higher whilst they blew raspberries at each other, giggling their heads off. Nowadays their muted joys involve TikTok and three-hour baths.

The last year has been the hardest yet. Our daughter hit autistic burnout and has taken a very long time to recover. There were weeks when she barely left her bedroom; her mental health was precarious and her anxiety huge; it impacted all of us.

School is no longer part of her life; it’s proved too much, and we’ve had to adjust to a new normal. Our son, amazingly, has kept going, although his anxiety sometimes stops him in his tracks.

So Much To Learn and Unlearn

For ten years, we viewed our daughter’s struggles through the trauma lens. Yes, she struggled with sensory overload and emotional regulation, but that was trauma wasn’t it? Eighteen months’ ago, she was diagnosed with ADHD and Autism Spectrum Disorder and we hit a new learning curve; discovering more maps to her brain. Whilst also saying “Oh” as we realised why she does what she does. We also believe she has ARFID.

Since every autistic person is different, we’ve become detectives. Observing her body language (she’s often unable to express her needs), her stimming, her movement or stillness, her face, eyes, the tension in her body. We have to hear the words she doesn’t say.

We suspect our son is also neurodiverse, and whilst the professionals assure you that children don’t need a diagnosis to get the support they need in school, that’s not our experience. He is not even on the SEND register as school still tell us that his needs can be met by ‘Quality First Teaching.’ But that’s next year’s battle…

Goldilocks Life

We search for the sweet spot. Not too overwhelming that they hit sensory overload (bowling on a Saturday afternoon proved impossible, whereas early Sunday morning had been fine). Whilst encouraging them out of their comfort zone.

Avoidance is a strategy that’s all too easy to fall into. The world can be an utterly overwhelming place, with strangers, sensations, noises, lights and more to deal with. Yet we don’t want to batten down the hatches and live like antisocial hermits. Because whilst that’s an attractive option (especially for our daughter), it won’t help us learn, grow, and refine coping strategies.

A Meal Out To Celebrate

We went out for a meal. We’ve gone out every year, and sometimes (before we understood their specific needs), it wasn’t easy, fun or a celebration. There would be stress, anxiety, an inability to eat, an urge to leave almost the minute we arrived. Several meals ended up with frowns, sulks, stomping and mutterings about why bother and we should’ve stayed at home.

But we’ve learnt a lot. We’re honing in on the Goldilocks spot. By going early, we avoid the noise and numbers of strangers overwhelming them. We go somewhere we’ve been before, where there is something they both like to eat. We’ll encourage them to take fidgets, headphones, to chew on ice, to suck on straws, to nibble to avoid hanger, to stim on their phones.

I’ll be able to assess my daughter’s level of anxiety from what she’s wearing: on a great day, my daughter will pick a fab outfit with tights, short skirt, something that yells “Look at me”. She’ll slay (but hate me saying that). If she’s feeling anxious, it will be baggy tee-shirts, a huge fleece, baggy trousers. It’s her armour, and it tells me that she needs support.

We know how to read our kids. When our daughter starts to struggle, she’ll shrink inwards. She might struggle to eat, as she’ll be using all her energy to stop herself running away. We won’t stay long (maybe an hour). And afterwards, we’ll allow both of them to stay in their safe places if they want to decompress.

How Did It Go?

We had a good time, the only hiccup being we all ate too much!

Eldest sat in a corner of the room (good spot), using her headphones to listen to music (I could tell she was anxious as she was part-baggy). She thumbed her phone and popped her head up occasionally. She smiled. She laughed (at whatever was going on online). But (massive win) she ate a burger from the adult menu for the first time and demolished most of her meal.

Youngest didn’t feel the need to stim or fidget. He got a bored, so we played word games (20 questions) as we waited for food to arrive, which was great fun and taxing as we had to guess the cartoon character (thankfully Andy got SpongeBob).

There was no stress. No struggle. No overwhelm or meltdowns or raised voices. Not once did I think it would have been easier/ happier to eat pizza at home.

Our life might be quite a long way from what we imagined, but we’re finding our way, together. We love them to Ikea and back, and we’ll do everything in our power to make sure that they have the best life they can, given the way their brains and bodies are wired.

Sometimes it’s a bit rough around the edges. Sometimes we get it horribly wrong. Sometimes we forget, or fall back into Tradiitional Parenting territory.

But we’re still here. We’re still together as a family. And that is worth celebrating.

Happy Familyversary to Us.

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Girl reading and colouring in den

How to Navigate Transitionitis

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July is a rock hard month. Every year. The end-of-term routines are chaotic, unpredictable and with all the changes ahead, children often feel adrift. They are overwhelmed and dysregulate at levels unprecedented in the other eleven months of the year. Whilst we haven’t found a magic wand, there are some things we focus on to help our children cope:

  • Things that minimise out-of-school overwhelm
  • Things that calm and soothe
  • Things that engage their bodies in sensory activities
  • Things that de-stress them

Here are a few ideas from me and my twitter friends:

Lean On Your Routines

Make home a haven of normality and routine

  • Say no to parties, trips, and out-of-the-ordinary events. Children are already coping with so much in school, they don’t need even more piled on top at home
  • Create a predictability at the weekend with a routine if you don’t already have one – a mix of sensory stuff, laughter, exercise and calm time

Calm and Soothe

  • Reading together – we’ve recently begun reading together before the school run (walk), as that provides a very calming environment, where we are sat or cuddled close together and sharing an activity
  • Chewing gum – that chewing action on school pick-up can really help them to cope. And research has even proven it. If you don’t like gum, then raw carrots or toffees or bagels are all chewy alternatives
  • Sucking on hard boiled sweets, lollipops, or on drinks through straws. Choose a thick (but not too thick) liquid like a thick milkshake as it both lasts longer and has a stronger sensory impact
  • Singing nursery rhymes or simple songs. Sure, you might be fed-up of Daddy Shark or the Narwhal song but your kids might just need that repetitive and funny song to centre them

Engage Their Senses

  • Bashing, sucking or melting their favourite Lego or plastic characters out of ice-cubes (with hot water pistols)
  • Digging for dinosaurs or unicorns that you have buried in the garden – with their hands or spoons
  • Water fights or paddling pools if the sun is shining
  • Baking together – with lots of tasting and testing and licking of bowls and spoons and then eating something delicious at the end of it all
  • Bouncing – trampolines and bouncy castles can be great at relieving stress and creating a rhythmic sensation
  • Games that include blowing are great for regulation as it helps control their breathing (long exhales are the key)

Chill – Maximum Downtime

  • Avoid homework or bringing school home in any way – its stressful enough without invading their home life as well
  • Relax, alot – movie nights, games, reading in their bedrooms, playing Lego together, painting, drawing – whatever is relaxing for them
  • Dens and small spaces are often heavenly for children who find the emotional and sensory overwhelm exhausting – even a small tent in the garden can be a real respite for them
  • Get outdoors – there is something inherently calming about big open spaces, nature, trees, beaches, sand, soil.

Let It Go

At this point in the school year, the focus in our house is on regulation. Keeping everything calm.

So I might help them dress, put their clothes away (rather than insisting they help), accept that one minutes’ teeth brushing is enough for today, pick up more of their stuff than normal. I also tend to back off insisting they contribute to household tasks – I tend to tidy a bit more, put their laundry away when they are at school.

This is not about creating a precedent or even letting them get away with it. It is about accepting that at this time their capacity is reduced, so I adjust my expectations to avoid tipping them into an amygdala hijack (or meltdown).

Some children need plenty of exercise and extra sleep. It is about knowing (and experimenting) with what works to help your young people to cope with a very tricky time of year.

In the end, it’s all about making everyone’s lives a little bit easier.

Just until term is over and we can all breathe again.

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End of Term Problems

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‘Time to turn off the television/ tablet‘ you say in your best sing-song voice.

‘Yes Mummy/ Daddy‘ your child replies gleefully as they turn it off and skip to you for a hug.

For many of us the above is a fictional account of what happens, because…

Change is a shock.

There are little changes like shutting down a tablet and big ones like the end of a school year – which is a layer upon layer of tricky stuff to cope with.

Problem 1: They Are Bone Tired

  1. By the end of the school year, my kids are tired. Exhausted. Ready for a break.
  2. Because they are running on empty, they are more prone to coughs, colds, tonsillitis and more.
  3. Whilst they need a break, the holidays are a freestyle period of spontaneity. However much we discuss our plans, they struggle to grasp that amount of information in advance, so feel insecure about what is coming next.
  4. Long light days make sleeping harder (even with blackout blinds and curtains).

That in itself is quite a lot to cope with. But there’s more.

Problem 2: Transitionitis

Of course, the end of one school year is much more than just the end of term. Because next year, after the summer holiday:

  • Their teacher and teaching assistant will change
  • Their classroom and peg and drawer will change
  • Who they sit next to and the classroom dynamics will change
  • What and how they learn will change

EVERYTHING will change

Problem 3: Routine Is Thrown Out Of The Window

Dear Teachers

Please note – for every “exciting” thing you put into your end of term timetable, some pupils find them very, very, very stressful. Your exciting event is my children’s panic, stress, nightmares, inability to sleep, relax, enjoy or learn.

An Exhausted Mum

The end of term brings a veritable cornucopia of anxiety-inducing events. From sports’ day, to discos, non-uniform days, outdoor events, residentials or trips, plus award ceremonies, end-of-term assemblies and prize-givings. And don’t get me started on last year’s surprise talent competition…

If you’ve rocked a sobbing child who’s too stressed to sleep for days before each of these “fun” events, you too might roll your eyes when school announces yet another end-of-term surprise. Colour me unconvinced that these special events are great for all children.

Solutions: What Our Children Need

When the future seems wobbly, children need routine

What schools can do:

  • Stick to the routine as much as possible, for as long as you can
  • Provide lots of warning and a clear timetable for these non-routine events to parents in advance (no surprises, please!)
  • Pick one day of the week as your Event Day and then keep the rest of the timetable intact
  • Consider how your exciting events impact on those children who crave certainty and predictability in order to feel safe and stay calm (and essentially able to learn)
  • Schedule events throughout the year, rather than cramming them all at the end of term
  • Focus on laughter and fun during transition events to help kids relax
  • Create a comprehensive and gradual transition plan – starting the week after spring half-term and building gradually

When faced with change, with uncertainty ahead, with transition, many children need routine and predictability to help them feel calm, not spontaneity and excitement.

Ask yourself as a school what you can do to reduce not increase anxiety.

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Adoption Myths: They Won’t Remember

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It is tempting to imagine that a child adopted at a young age will not remember the trauma or neglect they experienced. It’s something well-meaning friends and family might say to adopters when they are cradling a small child in their arms ‘They won’t remember’.

The idea is superficially true – young babies and toddlers will not consciously recall their experiences. They may never say “Mummy hit me” but that doesn’t mean to say that they are unaffected by their experiences.

A foetus will not remember the alcohol their mother drank, but that doesn’t mean that they won’t spend their whole lives trying to overcome the changes to their brain and body.

A Little Bit of Neglect

Is neglect worse than abuse? Is alcohol in the womb worse than violence once born? Are wounds that can be seen (treated, mended) worse than those that can’t?

Nearly all children adopted in the England are adopted from social care, having been removed from their birth family due to neglect and inadequate care.  We were told that during our preparation training by our adoption agency, so we knew that. But we also were painfully naive about the potential impact of that neglect on their brains, on their development, on their bodies, on their emotions.

Researchers have started to assess the impact of neglect using simple experiments. In this one, a parent deliberately ignores (neglects) their child for a short period. Note that:

  • The child is safe
  • The child has an adult in close proximity

This research, devised by Dr Edward Tronick powerfully demonstrates just how vital eye contact, engagement, play and responsiveness is to a baby as young as one.

“The results are almost immediate and they are devastating. The baby looks to the dad and tries to get the dad back into those games… the baby starts to get frustrated… within three minutes the baby has really dissolved“

The Impact on a Child

By being grounded with a parent, who provides a sense of safety and helps her keep an even (emotional) keel, the researcher Dr Richard Cohen goes on to say that the baby can:

  • explore the world
  • meet new people
  • try new things

All because the baby has that safebase to rely on. Dr Cohen goes on to say:

“We can only begin to imagine what it’s like for babies whose life is like … all of the time – and they don’t get that responsiveness, they don’t get any help getting back to an even keel”

The long term impact can be that the child:

  • has trouble trusting people
  • has trouble relating to people
  • has trouble being calm enough so that they can explore the world

Our Adopted Children DO Remember

Our children cannot tell us what they experienced in their lives with their birth family – and we don’t have all the information either.

Yet we have seen how they can struggle with trust, with relationships, with staying calm or on an even emotional keel (all the things the researcher quotes above). As they grow older, these first experiences seem to have an even greater ripple effect on their social interactions and school life.

Bubbles’ stress-response (amygdala) is super sensitive and often hijacks her brain with a fight or flight response to what is an apparently trivial event. Such that the festive season becomes a tightrope of stress, overwhelm and more (see Festive Fear For All The Family).

Babies Are…

As Dr Cohen says at the start of this video, babies are much more capable than imagined – capable of instigating play, of encouraging their carer to interact with them and respond to them.

But they’re also much more vulnerable.

The next time someone tells you that child adopted at a young age won’t remember, why not show them this video and blog?Facebooktwitter

Festive Fear for All The Family

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So Christmas (Easter, the Summer, end of term) is upon us again. Tis the season to be jolly, or in our family, tis the season to go a little bit bonkers and have a mini meltdown in a crowd.

Tisn’t The Season To Be Jolly

I love the whole trees, fairy lights, magical side of Christmas (Andy is on the Grinch side of the Christmas divide, but this blog is not about him) and we (okay, I) imagined that the children would love it too. So when they joined our family, we attended lots of Christmas fairs and events with the kids, to immerse them in fun, goodwill and festivities.

But last year, after a fairly bad tempered tree festival, we began to wake up to the fact that these events more often than not deteriorated into crossness, frowns, stomping off and accusations of ‘You are mean.’  We were treading a tightrope across an emotional minefield.

Spontaneous Is Not Fun

From a child’s perspective these events can be:

  • Noisy – there is often loud music and voices clamouring for attention
  • Crowded – being jostled amongst teeming throngs of tall giants isn’t much fun
  • Confusing – do we drink hot chocolate or have cake, listen to the choir or have a lucky dip? They want it all and that’s hard to handle
  • Overwhelming – sounds, sights, smells of food, choices, raised emotions in the people around them, all add up to a sensory assault and rapid overload

These events are different, special, OUT of the ordinary; yet ordinary is what my kids thrive on.

Adopted Children Love Routine

Routine might sometimes be synonymous with boring yet that’s what my children need. They feel safe and happy cossetted in a warm blanket of cosy predictability. Our family is happiest with a simple routine:

  • Getting up at the same time every day and doing things in the same order. The kids beg for breakfast in their PJs on a weekend, but it can throw the whole morning when I ask them to get dressed afterwards
  • Walking the same route to school – when Andy walked them once, Bubbles tugged on his arm and shouted ‘You are Going the Wrong Way!!!!‘
  • Having predictable meals/ mealtimes/ bathtimes/ playtimes/ bedtimes

Christmas is the Anti-Routine. It is a sparkly curveball that wrecks their safety, and threatens their fragile sense of safety and security. So it’s no surprise they don’t react with giggles and glee.

School Timetables Fear

Schools, nurseries, playgroups, churches etc, organise festive feasts of fun. Event after event after event to celebrate religious festivals or Mothers’ Day, Easter bunnies or ends of term. Discos, film nights, singing, dancing, storytelling, plays, performances, sports, clubs, painting, drawing, snowflake cutting, bake sales, fundraising events and more.

Events that are designed with the best of intention, but that create anxiety and fear in adopted children, traumatised children, kids who have experienced upheaval, abuse, violence or loss associated with this time of year, children who are introverted, or SEN, or autistic (the list goes on).

For Bubbles and Nibbles, these events trigger anxiety, discomfort, uncertainty and more. Even if they enjoy the final event, the countdown can be agony. Bubbles will fret for around two weeks before a performance – two weeks when her learning is reduced, when her trauma mask starts to slip, when her emotions are as unstable as TNT.

A Carol Concert of Fear

Bubbles is singing at a carol concert this week. She loves to sing and be part of the choir.

Knowing full well that this was going to trigger her anxiety, I’ve been telling stories about the concert with her, sharing how the audience will be smiling, how her teacher will be looking out for her. Yet I missed something, because I forgot to step into her world. As we walked to school today, we chatted about the concert, and one fear eclipsed them all:

‘The church. It’s big and scary‘ Bubbles told me.

She blew me away. Because not only had she expressed her fear out loud, she had added new detail to it, something that I wish I had known earlier. For we could have visited the church together (in advance). Wandered up and down its aisles, got used to its size and shape in the light of daytime. We could have looked for toilets or exits, seen the doors and the pews, seen light shining in the windows. We could have made friends with the church, and in doing so, taken some of the surprise (aka fear) out of the concert.

Festive Fun is Family Fun

So we are starting a new family Christmas tradition.  A Christmas focused on each other. On our relationships and connection, on our energy and well-being.

We are avoiding all the Christmas fairs and events in our local area (which started in November for heaven’s sake). There is little sign in our house that Christmas is approaching – there are no decorations up yet, no obvious signs of the festive season, and as little change to our routines as we can manage with the exception of Rudolf (our own little mischief maker).

Our children have their solid Sundays – a park run in the morning and a swimming lesson before tea bookend a simple day of family time. There may be a trip to the cinema, some tablet time and a walk but not much else.

We are learning to put predictability at the heart of our family and our festive season, for that is where the most fun will be had.

  • Fun can be simple, easy, calm.
  • Fun can be cheap, low-key, at home
  • Fun can be a picnic in the lounge, baking in the kitchen, dens in the bedroom, bubbles in the bathroom, a Theraplay game for one-on-one time, balloons in every room of the house

The heart of family (and festive) fun is creating a sensory experience that my children are comfortable with from start to finish.  

How do you ensure your children have fun (not fear) at out-of-the-ordinary events?Facebooktwitter

The Trauma Mask

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“She seems happy” says Hazel* (from school), as she sits on a table with our social worker Mo*.  We three are discussing how best school can support Bubbles to feel safe and secure.

I sigh deeply and remain silent, shaking my head a little.

Bubbles, like many traumatised children, lives her life behind a mask. A mask of control, of pretence, of keeping her feelings and emotions hidden. The mask only slips when she feels safe – when she feels secure enough to express the inner conflict of her world.

“Is Bubbles happy at school?” Hazel asks, her tone a mix of bewilderment and concern.

What should I say? There isn’t an easy answer.

A High Functioning Traumatised Child

Bubbles achieves in school. She is meeting expectations in all areas, exceeding them in reading. She tries really hard to do what she is told and what is expected of her. She tries (so hard) to please and be recognised and rewarded in school.

To all intents and purposes she might seem like a model pupil. She is what I call a highly functioning traumatised child. Yet a deep dark secret lies beneath the surface. 

But in holding in together, the truth leaks out as clues

  • The way she can tip into anger or frustration with a single misplaced word
  • Her reaction to friendship issues, to rejection taking it beyond personal into a slight on her very soul
  • How any stress or frustration shown by an adult will stress her out ten fold (by taking perceived safety from her)
  • Her chewing (raw, powerful grinding)

At a recent assembly I watched her chewing (as my heart went out to my amazing girl). It wasn’t just a curl of hair that strayed near her mouth; Bubbles was stuffing great handfuls of hair into her mouth and gnawing it with gusto. When it wasn’t her hair, it was the shawl I had crocheted for her. Yet minutes later, when I gently asked her if she was anxious, she denied it and seemed surprised that the shawl was wet.

The touching sight of her anxiety led me to action: whilst school had been hesitant when I had previous suggested one, that day I bought her a chewigem pendant to bite in school and at home (Bubbles was delighted). Her chewing isn’t the issue; anxiety is the issue. Bubbles isn’t present during her anxiety.  She is stuck in flight or fight mode (when her amygdala – what we call Amy – is in charge). Sometimes she simply doesn’t even remember being anxious or angry, as if her brain has blanked it out.

And because she doesn’t know she is anxious, she won’t tell you she is either.

Her Mask is Safety

Bubbles problem is simple: she doesn’t feel safe. Her early years were sufficiently chaotic and disorganised that she learnt that the only way to be safe was to be in control.

  • To take charge of every situation
  • To do what she is told to avoid anger or violence or harsh words
  • To deny her own emotions for they were too painful

She Yearns For Love

To her teachers and the staff, she seems a happy, cheerful model pupil. Like a swan. All elegant gliding on the surface, but beneath the water, her insides are churning like crazy.

Her need for love, for praise, for acknowledgement, for recognition competes with her anxiety. Bubbles sits and practices her times tables, her handwriting, her reading because she wants someone to notice her and smile.

A little eye contact and a smile mean the world to her.

Yet shame is just beneath the surface. A harsh word and her world crumbles. She tries so hard, exhausting herself every day holding everything tight, holding her world together, taking control of every tiny aspect of her life, losing the carefree years of her childhood.

The Mask Falls Away

At home Bubbles feels safe.

She can express her raw, intense emotions without being shouted at, without incurring the attention of the class, without being shamed. The mask falls away and I see just how much keeping it all together during the day costs my little girl.

I am humbled that she trusts me enough to express her rage, her anger, her intensity – and writing this the guilt rises up at the times when I didn’t react with empathy. On a day when multiple things have gone wrong, her rage can last two hours.

Homework is hard. Not because she is lazy or doesn’t care. Sometimes she cares too much.

  • Sometimes (after a good day) she has energy and enthusiasm to spare and aces her homework, which builds her fragile self-esteem
  • After a hard day, when her anxiety left her running on vapours, then it triggers rage because it feels too hard (and rocks her self esteem)
  • If her anxiety is still sky high, then it triggers shame because she can’t remember her spellings or times tables.

Her battle is real, every school day. Yet somehow through all of this, she still manages to absorb information, to learn, to have moments of fun and friendship.

But when you ask me if Bubbles enjoys school, I don’t really know what to tell you.

* not their real names.

This blog is an excerpt from Emma’s forthcoming sequel to her book “And Then There Were Four” that charts the struggle to learn to parent her adoptive children therapeutically, to get support from school and the adoption agency and to educate herself and others in the needs of her adopted children. It will be published in 2025 and entitled “And Trauma Made Five.”Facebooktwitter

The Crochet Conundrum: Sanity versus Presence

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If you follow me on social media, you will have seen a lot of photos of crochet lately. Have I lost the plot? Am I creating crochet orphans of my children, as my attention is drawn to the magical combination of hook and wool?

What’s with all the crochet?

Crochet Keeps Me Sane

I revived my crochet in the hope of skipping over the snacking-hour that has me dipping into highly calorific nonsense the minute Andy takes the kids to bed. And it is hard to crochet and each cheezy dibbles at the same time (unless you are using orange wool).

But in it, I found much more than just a distraction from biscuits.

  • It is utterly absorbing – my mind gets a rest from all the thoughts and problems such as my mum’s health problems
  • It is relaxing – it is a flow experience that takes over for minutes or hours at a time
  • I create something unique – an original combination of wool, hook and pattern that is practical (in winter at least)
  • It is fast – as someone who is undeniably impatient, I love making something in just a few hours (unlike books which takes years to mature)
  • I am learning new skills. Today I learnt how to start a double-crochet chain and it felt amazing to nail it (even if it’s not going to make my CV)
  • It gives me something productive to do in those few moments where I would be twiddling my thumbs or checking my phone for the umpteenth time

The Hours We Wait

As a parent, the hours of waiting (when I’m purely there in my capacity as a Bouncer) seriously add up

  • At the school gate – as they race off and play with their friends until the door opens
  • At the swimming pool – we are there way too early (soo excited to go swimming, even ten minutes of shivering as we wait cannot dull her giddiness), and it takes ages to pull skin-tight leggings over damp post-swim legs
  • At mealtimes – waiting for them to finally finish the plate or declare that they can’t eat another bite (unless there is pudding)
  • At the playgym or park – when I am there to ward off Stranger Danger, to rescue them (less often nowadays) or ferry them to the toilet

Parenting can often feel like a hundred waits a day – all strung together. Nibbles and Bubbles are at an age now when they don’t want me to play tag with them in the school playground (Mum! No! How embarrassing!), but I have to be there.

Now I get to add a few more rows to a hat or scarf, whilst looking up like a less-nervous meerkat occasionally to revel in their play, in their games, in their swinging or balancing as the sun catches my face.

Sanity Versus Presence

Recently I commented to Sarah Fisher (author of Connective Parenting) that I was concerned that my Parental Presence was suffering as a result of my current crochet fad. Parental Presence is the true gift of your unwavering, undivided, unhurried attention that lets them know that you care, that they matter etc.

Her reply (which inspired this blog) was “Ah the balance of sanity vs presence”

How can I be sure that my crochet (or tweeting, or next hobby) is positive for the whole family, rather than just positive for me?

  • Do I still pay attention to my children? Am I emotionally available to them when they need to be heard, listened to, to talk, to share, to ask for help (or do I tell them to go away as I. Am. Busy?)
  • Do I ensure that I give my children my undivided (hooks down, wool out of sight) attention at both the start and the finish of each day?
  • Do I wait for my children to decide that they do not want my attention/ energy before I pick up my hooks/ phone etc?
  • Do I spend more time (when the kids are around) with them or with my hooks?

I haven’t always got it right (I told Andy that I was busy just last night, counting stitches as it happened). And that last one had me responding with an Oh (followed by ouch) which tells me that recently the balance has been in favour of crochet rather than them.

Yet the truth is, that whether I am ready for them to grow up or not, Nibbles and Bubbles need (and want) me less and less these days.

They are more independent, more self assured, keener to do things on their own. Bubbles loves to spend time at her (new) desk in her bedroom, reading, writing and more. Nibbles loves to play, but often on his own rather than with me. And in that gap, in that new space in our family, I have rediscovered a love of crochet. I just have to make sure that it doesn’t nudge the other fledglings out of the nest, like an oversized cuckoo.

So I am setting out my stall in front of you, my audience, as you are my witness:

I choose both – my kids and crochet, parental presence and sanity.

 

 

 

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My Little Pomeranians

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Apparently the names that I use online for my children are derogatory, or so an adoptee told me today.

The adopter saw a tweet where I mentioned Nibbles and Bubbles and was irate..

Bubbles and Nibbles? Are they Pomeranians? This is how APs [adopted parents] refer to us. Cutesy disrespectful little names that make us sound like housepets. Or AD4 (adopted daughter age four. AS is adopted son). We are people, not furniture to “place” or accessories to wear like badges.

When I explained that they had pseudonyms to keep them safe, the person remained unforgivingly angry at me.

Perhaps they would like me to use my children’s given names? To leave a digital trail for their birth parents to find them?

There Is Nothing…

.. I would not do to keep my children safe. I am fiercely protective and beautifully proud of my children and all that they achieved given their adverse starts in life.

I have and will continue to do everything in my power to give them a family that loves them and undo the damage that they experienced both before they were born and in the early months and years of their life.

At times I need support, someone to listen to my life, someone who understands the unique challenges of being an adopter. That is why I am on twitter (as well as to offer the same to others when they need it). If you are there to judge me, then please unfollow me. When I try and talk to you, open your mind and listen, rather than tell me that I am only on social media to “exploit my children” to get “sympathy hugs and congratulatory back pats.”

She Is Not You

You shout that your opinion counts because YOU ARE AN ADOPTEE.

Yes you are an adoptee. And as such your personal experience of adoption is unique. And possibly a world apart from that of Nibbles and Bubbles. Not all adoptees are alike, not all adoptions are alike and not all adopters are alike.

It seems I am your enemy based entirely on the fact that I am an adopter.

Today has been tough. I have cried buckets today, so I sought out my twitter family for support. And in amongst the support I gave, came your vitriol.

Bubbles raged today. A symptom of what happened to her before we met, when she lived with her birth parents, when her body, mind and soul were neglected. In those first vital months, when she should have been loved, nurtured, cherished; when she should have learnt that the world was a safe and loving place, she was neglected. Instead, her experience taught her that she didn’t matter, that however hard she cried, no-one was listening, that no-one cared, and her needs went unmet. She learnt that the world was a place of danger, that everything was a potential threat; she learnt to be vigilant and constantly alert.

  • She should have been cuddled
  • Her cries should have bought help, comfort, love
  • She should have been fed when hungry, changed when wet and put to bed when tired
  • She should have learnt that the world was a kind and loving place

Her brain didn’t learn how to control stress, her hippocampus did not learn that if she cried that comfort would come and so it didn’t need to be high alert all the time. That experience should have happened over a thousand times in her first year of life. But it didn’t.

You know nothing of this, because this is not your experience. I respect the needs of adoptees to express their experiences, to share their dismay in the process, their disappointment, their rage.

But stop treating adopters as the enemy.

I am not your enemy. I am willing to learn from the mistakes of the past. Providing you are willing to listen without judgement.

I will continue to keep my children’s identity a secret. I will continue to parent them in a way that builds their self-esteem, that redresses some of the neglect they suffered, that slowly but surely trains their hippocampuses that threats vary in nature and to respond appropriately. To help her stay regulated so that she can be the kind, loving and generous girl that I love and adore.

My children know their life story, they know their parents’ names, their identity, the reasons they were adopted. They are in touch with their foster carers, and I will help them find their birth parents if and when they chose.

There is nothing I would not do to protect them and I am sorry if those pseudonyms offend you.  I am not going to change a thing.

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Ice Ice Baby Please Please Sleep

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The lounge door opens. We pause the TV (just in case). It’s TOO hot Mummy. I sigh. I am rapidly running out of ideas. Bubbles really needs her sleep and last night, the hottest night of the year so far, was a particularly protracted bedtime – instead of lightly snoring at 8pm, she came down to complain umpty-seven times and was still awake nearly an hour later.

Some children might cope quite well with less sleep, but tiredness is a big trigger for emotional dysregulation in our house, so I do everything I can to help them sleep. Here’s some of the things I have and will be trying.

Ice in the Room

Keeping the room as cold as possible helps enormously:

  • Close the curtains during the day to stop sunshine warming the room through the windows
  • Once the sun is no longer shining directly in, open the curtains and the windows to the max
  • Ensure that the air has room to flow – that means leaving their door open (and tiptoeing around at night), but an open window with a closed door doesn’t work
  • Use a fan to circulate air and cool the skin (cue complaint about the noise!). As an added bonus Fi (@wilmawasmycat on twitter) suggested putting bottles of frozen water in front of a fan to provide air conditioning. One to try tonight.

Daytime Ice-child

For daytime cooling off:

  • Hoses, water pistols and even a sprinkler. We don’t have a sprinkler, but Michelle (@Reader5Michelle on twitter) said that it was the best £20 [she] had ever spent for summer fun. So I might have to invest (if I can silence my water saving eco warrier) because it is hilarous and cools us down. I might use the hose in the meantime…
  • Paddling pool – this is the time of year when even straight-from-the-tap paddling pool water is acceptable to my kids. So let them soak, splash and more to keep cool during the daytime.

Nighttime Ice-child

We have a standard bedtime routine with TV and stories that keeps the children’s emotions and energy at an even keel and this is even more important on hot days (for ours, running around outside in the heat and then coming in for bed simply wouldn’t work).

You can also use these tricks to cool them down to help sleep come more easily/ quickly:

  • A cold bath or shower – preferably as close to bedtime as possible, so either move their existing bath or shower nearer to lights-out or add an extra dip just beforehand
  • A cold flannel or sponge – on the forehead, the back of the neck, over the skin for a light wash. Where possible, leave the moisture on their skin as its evaporation will cool the skin. Removing the clammy sensation and making them feel fresh can make a huge difference and give them a window of coolness in which to fall asleep. If they don’t like the feel of a flannel, ice-cold water in a spray that leaves a fine mist might suit them better
  • Ice on the skin – whilst it makes Bubbles giggle and wriggle, often an ice cube rubbed down her spine, over her forehead and on the back of her neck is even better than a flannel
  • An ice-water bottle. Hot water bottles are so, like, winter, don’t you know. But the same bottle filled with cold water (and ice if you have any leftover from your G&T) is something tactile they can keep next to them as they try to sleep. It lasts longer too, so they don’t pop down to tell you how hot they are every ten seconds
  • A cold drink – some sips of cold tap water can cool your child a little
  • A small pieces of ice to suck on – my kids both like to suck or chew on ice, so it’s both a treat and can help them feel they are doing something to fight the heat. It might be a sense of control over the heat that matters most

Ice Their Mind

Much of the problem with a hot night is not the heat. It’s our thoughts and how frustrated we get about them.

Bubbles: It’s too hot

She is not really telling me it’s hot, because I know it is hot, and she’s already told me five times in the last twelve minutes.

As tempting as it is to reply: Just Go. To. Sleep that is about as useful as telling her to calm down. I need to read behind the lines, to the words she isn’t saying, to what she really wants. The least I need to do is respond with empathy:

Me: It must be very frustrating feeling so hot when you want to sleep.

It might be that she wants a specific technique – so I might ask How can I help? And she might admit she wants a cold water bottle.

But these are some useful techniques that apply just as much (if not more) on hot days to help my daughter (particularly) calm down:

  • Calming her thoughts. Our brains cannot hold two conflicting thoughts at once. So if we can replace the I hate the hot weather, it’s too hot thought with something more helpful that will calm us, that will shove the other one out. As we walked to school today, we talked about how it is often our thoughts about a situation, not the situation itself that keeps us awake. Perhaps thoughts like I love the sunshine. This is just warm. I can fall asleep quickly and easily will work? We will be testing these tonight.
  • Calming her breath.  Sitting alongside her for a few minutes and just breathing slowing together in silence can help her to relax a bit.

Today has been another scorcher of a day, and tonight is forecast to be hot. I have bought another cold-water bottle so the kids won’t fight over them, I have some plastic bottles 3/4 full of water in the freezer for my homemade air conditioning and we will be talking through some more positive thoughts before bed.

Wish us luck…

What techniques have you found to be useful in helping your children (and adults) to get to sleep faster on a hot muggy days?

 

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