Allison Howard – Walking heart

You know some people are weird, and I feel I can safely say this as I have met quite a few odd people in my life. Now I don’t mean your normal everyday crazy people, they are not really all that strange, as they are just being themselves. Another group of people that are completely nuts, are children. Not any particular age group or demographic, just simply all of them; babies’ toddlers, tweens, teenagers and even the 20-year-old children (because let’s face it they are the youngest of them all). 

I would even go as far and say that all of these children are not only strange but also annoying, with all their crying, no sleeping, You Tube watching, gaming, screen time obsessions, and horrible/ impractical food preferences. Now, as eyerollingly painful as they are to witness, these children are really not all that bad, as they too, are just being themselves or at least trying to figure out what that is. With all this in mind, what I have slowly come to realise is, that the weirdest and craziest people of all, are actually the parents and caregivers of these children.

Let me explain. The other day, I was on the phone to an amazingly strong woman. NO! I shall say Warrior, whom just happens to be a fellow Mother I sometimes chat with on parent pick up and also the occasional “playdate.”  As I was speaking with her, I could see that this solider was currently in the trenches, dodging canon fire in the long running battle inside no man’s land of lost identity and missing time.  

You see, I found myself initially speaking with this woman, as I wanted to see what was happening with a Halloween trick or treating field excursion we were collaborating on together. Now, this call, started out in the most standard fashion, but somehow I found myself neck deep in a conversation regarding what was currently happening with some particular social structures and friendship dynamics that where persisting and evolving within the school playground and I unwittingly found myself deep within the war room of parental emotion and confusion. 

Now, this situation was awful, as this lovely lady’s beautiful child was going through some personality clashes and receiving some “challenging” treatment from the other children in the school yard, which was distressing to both child and mother. And as this warrior was unloading all the battle manoeuvres and counter measures that had been performed, she became very upset and started to cry. At that very moment my heart just broke as the sorrow and anguish coming down the phone, was almost tangible. Hearing this, I wanted to crawl through the phone and give her a cuddle as the words “I am sure everything will be alright” seemed empty and hollow.  

As horrible as it was for her child to be experiencing this treatment, and my heart went out to this little being, I was not really concerned as, I knew 100% that this child would be fine, as this brave warrior speaking to me had this little civilian all wrapped up in the warmest fluffiest patch work quilt of safety and love that any army personnel could muster; nothing was going to happen to this little social refugee, they were safe. Who my heart was braking for, was the person on the other end of the phone. 

You see, when you start having children and raising them, no one really warns you that the grief, you yourself have collected through the years, is actually revisited at every stage that your own child’s experiences it. Meaning the fear and isolation you may have experienced through your childhood comes back to haunt you in the shadowy corners of your mind and soul, as you watch your child toddle off to school for the first time, it can effect you deeper than you will ever realise.

I know this purely because I have struggled and sometimes still do, immensely, as I witness my own child negotiate the ups and downs of her own life and schooling experience. As I had quite a strange journey through primary and high school myself, that consisted of isolation and bullying (but I will save that for another blog). Now, as I moved past childhood, finding myself in the adult world, I assumed those experiences were behind me. However this short lived confidence completely collapsed, as I watched my little baby head out into her own life .   

This grief, this trauma, can manifest in all sort of ways, it can make a relaxed person controlling or a uptight person insane. You can also use your experiences as a reason to treat your child in a certain way, with the expression “well it happened to me and I was fine” or your trauma can head you into a tail spin of anger and paranoia that explodes like an atomic bomb down to your very core.  And the craziest part about all this is, most people have absolutely no idea it is happening. 

So as my friend was crying and moving into thoughts of reasoning and paranoia, passionately spouting statements which included “I cant let them win.” I moved with caution and tentatively queried that this hurt is awful, but could there be something deeper, at play here? 

You see, any parent and care giver understands, you have to be an advocate for your child. There are points in a child’s life where they will not be able to fight, and by you standing in for them only then are you able demonstrate  how to stand and defend yourself when life gets tough. But what happens when the parent has never had a clear guide to follow? What happens if no one stood up for them as a child? What happens when the war you feel is happening, is one inspired by a trauma experienced in your life? Not the one that is actually happening. This revisited trauma can leave you haunted, with a feeling that you cannot locate. Like snipers on the battlefield, these dormant emotions lay waiting for a chance to hit you again, and by God can they hit their mark. 

And as I heard this wounded mother speaking, the real person, I could hear was her inner child screaming out to STOP. You see, even with the little I knew about this warriors personal history, I knew she had been through some major battlefields and the campaigns she had faced where quite lengthy and violent, beyond my own experience or comprehension. And as I listened to her grief all I wanted to do was find away to let her know that she was safe now and the battle is over, she had won, and produced some very strong capable and loved children there is. But unfortunately at that time her grief was too big for my tiny words words to land, the battle field was still aflame and scared for me to assist. All I could do was sit in the trenches with this lone warrior and wait for the bombing to stop. When that happens maybe then in the quiet and the aftermath, we can head out to the victory square and dance with joy. 

These thoughts have inspired my latest illustration “Untitled” pastel on paper. I was thinking about remembrance day and all the generational trauma that has been collected and passed down over the decades and how maybe if we walk gently and quietly through the poppy fields of grief, can we then find the path to healing. 

This experience has effected me deeply, because it is the first time I realised sometimes a pain can not be healed until it is seen by the only person who is blinded by it. This is what makes parents and care givers of children the craziest of them all. Because who would willingly step out on to the battle field with nothing but love in their hearts and a bag of nappies.   

I hope you are all well and keeping safe my wonderful readers xoxo