I apologize in advance for struggling today. Things are happening in our country that remind me too much of the shooting at Ohio State in 1970. In the past weeks, two citizens have been killed in Minnesota by people poorly trained for their jobs in law enforcement. I will not debate the facts nor defend anyone involved. I just want to talk a bit about what it means to be walking around with this information in my head when in the company of children. Any children, but especially those with trauma histories.
I remember the days following the attacks on the Pentagon and Twin Towers on 9/11. Children exposed to news coverage were left with the impression that the attack was happening repeatedly. Sometimes it is so hard to understand how little ones see the world.
In his book, Blink, Malcolm Gladwell, does such a beautiful job of helping us understand how good people can be driven to do terrible things. Amadou Diallo was a 23-year-old man working in the Bronx to save money to continue his studies in computer science begun earlier in Singapore. After his death, his mother established a computer literacy program in his memory in his homeland of Guinea.
Gladwell describes the moments that preceded Diallo’s shooting. The officers of the Street Crimes Unit involved were looking for a serial rapist. They were in an unmarked car and in plain clothes. Mr. Diallo was standing at the entrance to his building when they confronted him, reportedly identifying themselves as police, though wearing no uniforms. He got frightened and retreated into the hallway. He was unarmed but when he reached for his ID, he was shot. After 41 shots were fired into him, one of the officers sat next to his body and cried.
Now that you’ve read the above, how are you feeling? Is your chest tight? Do you feel burdened in some way? Are you angry? Do you feel sad or hopeless? Are you resentful that I’ve brought this into your day?
My point is this: all bodies register such stress, such pressure. We can try to shield ourselves from the type of news that “upsets” us but, unfortunately, and especially these days, children will be exposed to tidbits about such events at school from peers with unfettered access to the Internet. Now you have a child coming home bearing not only the pressure of the typical school day but the additional burden of violent things happening in the world with really no idea how close or distant they are. Couple that with a history of distrust that humans will provide what you need, and it’s been a very bad day, indeed.
Now, it’s the “arsenic hour” a term coined by Marguerite Kelly in her book, The Mother’s Almanac, when family members arrive home still bearing the burdens of navigating the gauntlet of city traffic, a tantrumming toddler, being a toddler, failing a spelling test, having to go to school at all, a fight with a best friend, being teased on the playground, getting dumped by a boy/girlfriend, not having a boy/girlfriend, or an acne breakout. Everyone wants ease but no one has much left for anyone else. If not also converging on home, Mom’s been in control all day and now dad is trying to find his place in the family. And this is a typical day, not a day with life threatening ice storms or people getting shot on the streets. We inevitably bring the vestiges of our last experience to the next moment if we don’t create a moment of transition between the two. I recall driving around the block a few times while singing, “Oh, what a beautiful morning,” before returning home after a very stressful day’s work with kids with trauma histories. All in service of being fully present for my girls.
The only thing to do is be honest about how difficult this moment is. Respect it but know that to stew in it is counterproductive to your ability to show empathy to others and attune to their needs in the moment. Try to deny it, and your face will give you away.
Again, I encourage you to take some time to transition your feeling state and get control of the emotional hangover from your hard day: take a brief walk, put on some soothing music, take some deep breaths. Maybe all 3! Maybe, just maybe, by doing so, you’ll be ready to read the faces of those you love and help them get control, too. Because, without control, self-regulation, that variety of hangovers will inevitably rub off on others and a hard day’s night will begin just as everyone’s hard day ends.
Peace,
Cathy
