Who watches the watchers?
So, the introductions had been made and
the ice breakers had been broken out. It was time to get into the
programme in detail.
Now, at this point perhaps it would be
interesting to muse a little on personal dynamics and group sessions.
Having been around the corporate world for some time in our jobs we
were both used to these – the concepts of formin’, stormin’,
normin’, performin, and so on. We were also savvy to how group
exercises work. The trainers invariably stress that you should just
be yourself and relax. After all, no one is assessing every word you
say or every thing you do.
Really...?
I’d been through enough job interview
panels, assessment centres and the like to know that when someone
says to you, “Don’t worry, this isn’t a part of the
assessment
process, it’s just a chance for you to get to know more about the
company in an informal setting...”, they are without exception
watching you like a hawk. The very thought that, at the end of the
day, Maureen and Doreen (the two social workers presenting the
course) wouldn’t be getting out their pencils and scribbling a
little report about each of us was, frankly, laughable. Of...
course... they... would...!
I hesitate to mention that, some months
later, as we prepared for our Adoption Panel date we got to read
copies of the assessments that they weren’t making and the reports
that they weren’t writing.
Normal service has been resumed
Anyway, down to business. Since the
first session was to focus on us it was unsurprising that we began
with an exercise based upon sharing our own experiences and motives
for seeking to adopt. It’s an oft quoted phrase that “careless
words cost lives”. In this context it cost preconceptions... Early
on, one of the group made a throwaway comment about coming into the
adoption process the “normal” way. Ping! A red flag flew up from
the two session leaders... “Normal?” said Doreen, “What’s
normal? Is there normal? Are any of us normal? Are none of us normal?
Are ALL of us normal? Is being normal,
normal? Is not being normal,
normal?”
Around the
semi-circle there was a visible rolling of eyes and uncomfortable
shuffling of bottoms as if to say, “What have we got ourselves
into?”. There was definite vibe of “What’s all this
psycho-babble going on about?” You could see each person present
vowing not to say the “N-word” for the next four weeks (or indeed
8 months).
We
moved on to develop the theme further. On the assumption that we’d
all have more or less N-word childhoods, just how much had they been
the same and how much had they differed? Of course, it only threw up
the truism that we ALL consider our lives to be normal (and others’
not to be?) yet all our experiences are different. Maureen and Doreen
were at pains to underline that, when you’re looking at an adopted
child, there is no normal. Indeed, given the experiences which many
adopted children will have gone through prior to coming into the
looked-after system their own normal
was quite likely to be well beyond any of our experiences. Hmm...
good point, well made.
We continued to examine our differences in experience. How had our
various parents’ ways of showing affection differed and how had
this fed through to our own preferred styles of showing affection?
What had been the notable high and low points in our lives,
particularly our early lives, and how did we feel about these now?
What differences had they made to how we had developed into adults?
At a complete loss for words...
And then the
concept of “loss” was introduced. It was important, we were told,
that we could come to terms with the losses we had and would
experience in our lives. Tangible losses and those which were more
conceptual. The loss of the lives and family we had always imagined
ourselves having (prior to infertility treatment, IVF and other such
things getting in the way of our carefully planned-out futures). Most
importantly perhaps, we would need to come to terms with the loss of
the birth children we’d never had... We were asked to think about
our “ideal” vision of our child and to mentally throw that vision
away.
At that point the
psycho-babble (others in the group might probably have chosen a
stronger word) filters started to slam shut around the semi-circle.
“Hang on a minute. How can I have ‘lost’ something I never
actually HAD?” “Losing some imaginary concept doesn’t count!”
“Come on, this is all just mumbo-jumbo!” The social workers shot
each other a quick look as if to say, “Hmm, this group’s going to
be a handful...”
Or perhaps that’s
exactly the reaction they had hoped to elicit and was a perfectly
N-word reaction for a Preparation Day. Either way, a lengthy debate
ensued which culminated in some of the group agreeing to agree to
disagree... Funny thing though, by the end of the second day the idea
and effects of “loss” in its psychological sense seemed a
completely natural concept to all of us. The barriers had clearly
been chipped away. It’s almost as if they’d planned it that way.
Of course, over
the following few months the deep significance of loss in its various
forms became clear to all of us and even the staunchest complainants
looked back and conceded... “OK, fair enough!” Certainly the
following week when we did an incredibly powerful role play on the
losses which an adopted child will have experienced the concept was
much more accepted around the group.
The day progressed
with videos of adopters recounting their experiences, with more talks
on the adopters journey from a practical and an emotional level. And
then we were given our homework along with another hefty form to
start considering and filling in.
The homework was
to write a diary reflecting on what we’d learned that week –
about ourselves, our partners and the adopter’s journey – and to
answer some deliberately intrusive and probing questions on the our
history from first deciding we wanted children to the present day.
Finally we were asked to summarise our feelings after the day.
And so the first
Preparation Day was over. As we walked to the car park we both
realised that we were absolutely exhausted! We staggered to the car
and drove the short distance to the local branch of a favourite
restaurant chain where we slumped into seats at a table in the
window. There was no way we were in a fit state to brave the drive
home through rush hour traffic, let alone settle down to cooking
dinner. The thought that one or both of us might, at that point, be
put in charge of sharp knives... Anyway, we must have looked like an
oddly unromantic dining couple. Gazing in eyes-glazed silence at each
other (or at least into the middle distance over each other’s
shoulders), struggling to form vaguely coherent sentences, barely
able to lift our forks to our mouths. Totally spent!
However, we both
felt excited and even more full of anticipation of what the road
ahead – and the following week – would bring.
3 comments:
Great post - very well written, I could picture myself in the preparation group with you! It brought back a lot of memories of my preparation groups, although they were a long while ago (1995 and 2002) and the content of the sessions is notably different
I really sympathise with how mentally and physically draining the sessions can be. I just wasn't expecting that before I attended them. Even the second time I had forgotten how draining it really was!
Ah, the normal word! 5 years into placement, we still don't use the word normal. In many contexts anyway!
I really like your writing style, and the way you are so descriptive. Thank you for linking your post to the Weekly Adoption Shout Out x
Preparation days were exhausting for us. I went to work that week, not really caring about my job. Once you have learned about loss, separation and trauma in children, all else seems a bit trivial!
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