Feeling Damaged

Consider this “perfect” scenario;

Your 18 month old wakes up every morning happy, bright, calm and cheery. She plays with her toys in her cot, she chatters, sings, kisses her teddies and sometimes will even just sit there quietly looking around. I bet you’re thinking “oh my god, what a joy! How lucky am I as a parent to have a child like that”

Now, consider this;

I’m an adoptive parent who has had, for the last 12 months, attachment theories, negative behavioural situations and all sorts of horror stories crammed so deep in to my brain that I can’t push them to one side.

I don’t wake up feeling “lucky” that I can lie in bed reading or catch 30 more minutes sleep. I wake up nervous, anxious, scared, worried that I’m damaging her forever by leaving her in her cot, petrified that I’m ruining all the hard work we’ve put in to achieving the attachments that are so obviously there when you look closely enough through the worry.

People say listen to your instincts. I have none left. The adoption process has destroyed, albeit temporarily, those instincts because every time something happens or doesn’t happen my instincts are in overdrive about every little thing! I feel like a loony and I feel like a wreck. I never wanted to be a parent who was over protective, over thinking, over analysing because it winds me up when other people are like that. But the adoption process, more specifically the stuff you learn through it, really does hinder that “natural” ability to parent. It’s exhausting. And not in the “I’m a parent I never stop” way. It’s the mental exhaustion of over thinking, over analysing and not being able to switch off that SW/psychotherapist voice in your head……ever! I’m sure, in time, I will ease up on myself and, as my husband keeps telling me to do, give myself a break. But for now I’m trying to concentrate, very very hard on separating my natural and good instincts to the “learned, adoption, psychotherapy” instincts which are proving to be more damaging than anything else.

In the middle of all this worry, this morning, I happened to stub my toe really hard and, being a complete wuss, I shouted “ow!” and sat on the floor to rub my foot. Within seconds my 18 month old daughter had walked over to me, offered a kiss (which I gladly accepted) and bent down to rub my throbbing toe.

Now, what was I saying I was worrying about? 
© www.hoopsandhurdles.co.uk 2013 All Rights Reserved

Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.