At the moment I feel like everywhere I look I’m reminded that life is going to be difficult. – Not that it’s perfect for everyone else, but apparently it’s going to be much harder for our children.
I’m told I must let go of the picture perfect image of a happy family cycling merrily along a river towpath together, splashing through all the puddles, and replace it with something a lot darker, something unknown that perhaps I won’t be able to cope with. All in all it’s supposedly going to be to be tough and sometimes I feel overwhelmed by what’s potentially coming (it’s not ‘if’..-but ‘when’… apparently). All the anxiety inducing rhetoric and reading I’ve done has suddenly got to me. Is there a word for it? A phrase? Adoption anxiety fatigue perhaps?
What of we can’t cope? What if we mess it up?
I’m fully aware of how controversial it is to be saying all this because in many ways, it’s such progress for us as parents and for society in general to be made aware of all the potential damage caused by early trauma and what we can do to overcome it. I get it. I just feel a little weary from it. I know it’s not helpful but sometimes I do.
My son is beautiful, funny, clever, obstinate, demanding, loving and fascinating and a million other adjectives too. Sometimes I’d rather just see him as this instead of a ticking time bomb.