OK, here we go. Something a bit off the usual track for me.
I've been feeling like making a change for quite some time, and my recent birthday kicked it into higher gear. I'm not happy with the way I dress or look. I'm trying to find a look that is appropriate for someone my age (i.e., old) and dumpy, but that still reflects who I am. I want to look nice, but still be myself and be comfortable in my clothes and shoes.
My daughter and I were at the mall recently (the first time in history that I bought something and she got nothing). I bought a summery skirt in bright colors, a long red top to wear with capris, a 3/4-sleeve top, and a brightly colored short-sleeve top, as well as some new perfume. I'm thinking of letting my hair grow as well (it helps that I don't yet have a local hairdresser!).
I've been a comfort-over-style sort of person for a long time. I dressed appropriately for work, but the other day, I realized that I was tired of dressing like a teenage boy in baggy shorts and oversize T-shirt since we moved. Since we are starting a new life in New Mexico, I decided to include a new way of dressing as part of my new life. Hence the new clothes and perfume. Besides, if I'm ever to find a new guy to share my life with, I need to look attractive.
Although I enjoy watching "What Not To Wear" on television, I don't agree with the hosts' belief that women should always be decked out in fancy clothes for a trip to the grocery store or to take the kids to the park. I believe there is a middle ground; I just need to find mine.
I had lunch today with my Albuquerque Realtor, and I decided to wear the new skirt. I'm short and, while not overweight, I frequently feel as though I'm shaped like a jar of peanut butter, with no real waist. But I put the skirt on, added a white summer top, turquoise jewelry and white sandals, and I looked pretty darn good.
So I'm trying to find a new look that's right for me. That isn't easy, given the fashion world's emphasis on the young, tall, skinny crowd. I'm not even sure what 'look' will look best on me. I don't want to dress like an eccentric old lady, but I want to look nice and appropriately dressed, and without a lot of fuss.
Maybe I'm seeking the impossible. Are my choices limited to 'frumpy', 'eccentric' or 'too young'? Stay tuned as my efforts continue.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Practicing Appreciation
Last week, I received an e-mail from Sunflower Farmers Market, a chain of grocery stores in six western states that sells wonderful produce (and other food, too) at great prices. 'Practicing Appreciation' was the title of a piece about the wonders of good food. The message was that we should stop and think about all the people who work to produce the wonderful food and drinks we take for granted.
That started me thinking. I'm not at all a 'foodie,' and haute cuisine is lost on me. But the idea of practicing appreciation is one that hits home. I'd bet that most people are like me: we seldom give a thought to where our food comes from and who produced it. I do read labels for ingredients and country of origin, and I won't buy products produced by or grown in certain countries. But I am pretty much oblivious to those who work to bring us the bountiful food we enjoy.
In addition to appreciating those who produce our food, I also was reminded of the value of appreciation recently, as I spent my birthday with my daughter. She set her alarm for 4:30 a.m., got up, woke our dogs up, fed them and let them outside. When I woke up at 5:30, one dog was asleep in her bed in my room, while the other was in my daughter's room as usual. I couldn't figure out why they were in no hurry to get up. Only later did I realize what she had done. As I lay in bed reflecting on her gift, I felt a great sense of appreciation. Later, she cooked breakfast for me, and we then spent the day together, exploring some new places not too far from home in New Mexico. I consciously appreciated the time we spent together, knowing that what I chose to do that day wasn't something that interested her. But she spent the day without complaint. And I appreciated that.
It is so easy to overlook the little things, such as a thoughtful act or time spent with a loved one. Knowing that my daughter made a special effort to do something for my birthday by getting up extra early (as a teenager, she loves to sleep late) made me truly appreciate her act of kindness.
Like any habit, appreciation can be fostered through practice. The more we practice appreciating something or someone, the more likely we are to find more things to appreciate. Eventually it should become second nature to actively appreciate those around us. I try to tell my daughter when she does something that I appreciate, such as washing the smoothie maker one night so I didn't have to clean it the next morning. I did appreciate her effort, but if I didn't tell her, how would she know?
It is so easy to let our feelings of appreciation go unspoken, or not to even realize that we should appreciate something. Yet the simple act of practicing appreciation can change both the recipient and the giver of appreciation. Think how good it feels when you know that someone appreciates something you have done or said. Today, my daughter was busy when it was time to feed the dogs their evening meal (this is one of my daughter's daily responsibilities). So I fed them. In a few minutes, she came in to feed them, realized I had taken care of this, and thanked me for feeding the pups. What I did by feeding the dogs wasn't a big thing, and it took only a few seconds. But knowing that my daughter appreciated my help made me feel good.
Being more appreciative, and showing my appreciation, is a habit that I will work on. So many things, and people in our lives, are taken for granted. Think how much nicer our world would be if we all told others how we appreciate them.
That started me thinking. I'm not at all a 'foodie,' and haute cuisine is lost on me. But the idea of practicing appreciation is one that hits home. I'd bet that most people are like me: we seldom give a thought to where our food comes from and who produced it. I do read labels for ingredients and country of origin, and I won't buy products produced by or grown in certain countries. But I am pretty much oblivious to those who work to bring us the bountiful food we enjoy.
In addition to appreciating those who produce our food, I also was reminded of the value of appreciation recently, as I spent my birthday with my daughter. She set her alarm for 4:30 a.m., got up, woke our dogs up, fed them and let them outside. When I woke up at 5:30, one dog was asleep in her bed in my room, while the other was in my daughter's room as usual. I couldn't figure out why they were in no hurry to get up. Only later did I realize what she had done. As I lay in bed reflecting on her gift, I felt a great sense of appreciation. Later, she cooked breakfast for me, and we then spent the day together, exploring some new places not too far from home in New Mexico. I consciously appreciated the time we spent together, knowing that what I chose to do that day wasn't something that interested her. But she spent the day without complaint. And I appreciated that.
It is so easy to overlook the little things, such as a thoughtful act or time spent with a loved one. Knowing that my daughter made a special effort to do something for my birthday by getting up extra early (as a teenager, she loves to sleep late) made me truly appreciate her act of kindness.
Like any habit, appreciation can be fostered through practice. The more we practice appreciating something or someone, the more likely we are to find more things to appreciate. Eventually it should become second nature to actively appreciate those around us. I try to tell my daughter when she does something that I appreciate, such as washing the smoothie maker one night so I didn't have to clean it the next morning. I did appreciate her effort, but if I didn't tell her, how would she know?
It is so easy to let our feelings of appreciation go unspoken, or not to even realize that we should appreciate something. Yet the simple act of practicing appreciation can change both the recipient and the giver of appreciation. Think how good it feels when you know that someone appreciates something you have done or said. Today, my daughter was busy when it was time to feed the dogs their evening meal (this is one of my daughter's daily responsibilities). So I fed them. In a few minutes, she came in to feed them, realized I had taken care of this, and thanked me for feeding the pups. What I did by feeding the dogs wasn't a big thing, and it took only a few seconds. But knowing that my daughter appreciated my help made me feel good.
Being more appreciative, and showing my appreciation, is a habit that I will work on. So many things, and people in our lives, are taken for granted. Think how much nicer our world would be if we all told others how we appreciate them.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Coming Home at Last
We made it to New Mexico! After two days of driving 10 to 11 hours a day, and with multiple stops so the dogs could stretch their legs and get some water, we arrived in Rio Rancho a week ago. Our household goods were delivered the next day.
The area was experiencing a heat wave, which limited our outdoor time. But my daughter and I, and our dogs, love it here already. As I type this, I am looking out my office window at a blue sky and gorgeous mountain range (the Sandias). A couple of times, a road runner (the state bird) crossed the back yard. We are visited regularly by quail and rabbits, and one morning, I saw deer tracks in the dirt of a nearby road.
Our house is so large and so beautiful I can't believe it is mine. It is nearly twice the size of our house in California, which is now on the market. The architectural features of the new house are amazing: a kiva fireplace, vigas, Pueblo style, an enclosed front courtyard, Mexican tile flooring, lots of light, fabulous views that I can enjoy even when in the huge shower, and lots of quiet. It is so very different from our life in California.
I can't believe I am actually living here, and I am amazed when I think back about how I found this house. I sometimes looked at houses in New Mexico on the Internet, and one day I found this house. It grabbed me immediately. It had everything I was looking for, from the 1/2-acre lot to the Southwest interior details and the views. I contacted a Realtor in Albuquerque with whom I had previously signed up for monthly listings of homes for sale. I sent an e-mail, asking whether he could show me that house. After checking his availability against mine, I chickened out and decided this was just too much of an impulsive thing for me to do. A few days later, I again contacted the agent and set up a date to fly to Albuquerque. I got the first flight of the day, at 6:30 a.m., he picked me up at the airport, and off we went. I looked at five houses, then revisited two of them a second time. I got home around 10:30 that night.
Although I really liked the house, I was concerned that I was acting too impulsively, which definitely is not my nature. After discussing this with a friend, I decided to make a gigantic leap of faith and make an offer on the house a few days later. It was just too good to pass by. I contacted my agent in Albuquerque and told him I wanted to make an offer. So the wheels were set in motion.
The sellers made a modest counteroffer, which I accepted, and then I stipulated my requirements for the purchase. There were no show-stoppers, the inspections were completed and minor repair work done, and the deal was closed. There was just one problem: I now owned two houses, and I was responsible for two mortgages and two insurance and property tax payments.
Over the next few months, several things auspiciously happened to move my retirement and relocation forward, and everything fell into place. Soon I was making arrangements with movers and getting my California house ready to go on the market. It truly seemed that although making a decision based on emotion is totally out of character for me, this move was meant to be.
God, the fates, karma, whatever the reason, I believe I am meant to be here in this beautiful place. My daughter and my dogs love it here, too, although for quite different reasons. I sometimes walk into the back yard and gaze at the mountains, still finding it hard to believe that I live in this wonderful place.
Finally, I feel that I am home.
The area was experiencing a heat wave, which limited our outdoor time. But my daughter and I, and our dogs, love it here already. As I type this, I am looking out my office window at a blue sky and gorgeous mountain range (the Sandias). A couple of times, a road runner (the state bird) crossed the back yard. We are visited regularly by quail and rabbits, and one morning, I saw deer tracks in the dirt of a nearby road.
Our house is so large and so beautiful I can't believe it is mine. It is nearly twice the size of our house in California, which is now on the market. The architectural features of the new house are amazing: a kiva fireplace, vigas, Pueblo style, an enclosed front courtyard, Mexican tile flooring, lots of light, fabulous views that I can enjoy even when in the huge shower, and lots of quiet. It is so very different from our life in California.
I can't believe I am actually living here, and I am amazed when I think back about how I found this house. I sometimes looked at houses in New Mexico on the Internet, and one day I found this house. It grabbed me immediately. It had everything I was looking for, from the 1/2-acre lot to the Southwest interior details and the views. I contacted a Realtor in Albuquerque with whom I had previously signed up for monthly listings of homes for sale. I sent an e-mail, asking whether he could show me that house. After checking his availability against mine, I chickened out and decided this was just too much of an impulsive thing for me to do. A few days later, I again contacted the agent and set up a date to fly to Albuquerque. I got the first flight of the day, at 6:30 a.m., he picked me up at the airport, and off we went. I looked at five houses, then revisited two of them a second time. I got home around 10:30 that night.
Although I really liked the house, I was concerned that I was acting too impulsively, which definitely is not my nature. After discussing this with a friend, I decided to make a gigantic leap of faith and make an offer on the house a few days later. It was just too good to pass by. I contacted my agent in Albuquerque and told him I wanted to make an offer. So the wheels were set in motion.
The sellers made a modest counteroffer, which I accepted, and then I stipulated my requirements for the purchase. There were no show-stoppers, the inspections were completed and minor repair work done, and the deal was closed. There was just one problem: I now owned two houses, and I was responsible for two mortgages and two insurance and property tax payments.
Over the next few months, several things auspiciously happened to move my retirement and relocation forward, and everything fell into place. Soon I was making arrangements with movers and getting my California house ready to go on the market. It truly seemed that although making a decision based on emotion is totally out of character for me, this move was meant to be.
God, the fates, karma, whatever the reason, I believe I am meant to be here in this beautiful place. My daughter and my dogs love it here, too, although for quite different reasons. I sometimes walk into the back yard and gaze at the mountains, still finding it hard to believe that I live in this wonderful place.
Finally, I feel that I am home.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
A Time of 'Lasts'
As my retirement and move from California draw ever closer, I have been thinking of all the 'lasts' in my life. Most people, it seems, focus on 'firsts' -- a baby's first steps or first words, a child's first job or first crush, our first car. But for me, this is a time of 'lasts.'
Yesterday I walked to our administration building for my last annual performance review. Today at noon I took my last walk around the field at work, walking by the runway and baylands for the last time. I also paid more attention to my environment, looking and seeing with much greater awareness. I removed my headphones and made a point of listening to the world around me. I heard geese honking, the buzz of insects, the wind in the weeds. I saw several white egrets and butterflies. I noticed the weeds with their colorful flowers, in purple, yellow and white. I looked closely at the still-green hills just the other side of the bay.
Today was the last day I had to get up early and go to work. I took care of a last work request by my supervisor. When I go somewhere, I wonder to myself if this is the last time I will visit that shop or restaurant or park. I recently made last visits to the veterinarian, doctor and dentist, and ordered a last refill of a couple of prescriptions.
Friday we will have our last family therapy call. On Sunday, I will make my last drive from California to Utah to pick up my daughter, and this will be the last time the dogsitter will stay at my California home with my dogs.
I am not saddened to think about all these 'lasts.' On the contrary, once the 'lasts' are out of the way, I will start encountering 'firsts.' My first drive from California to New Mexico. The first time my daughter will be home for more than a few days in nearly a year. Our first residence in New Mexico. My first retirement. (Some people retire from one line of work, then start working at something else). I am continuing to work on my first book. I hope someday to sell my first photograph.
Firsts and lasts are both important, I think, although firsts get a lot more attention. There seems to be something negative about last: No one wants to finish last in a race or in an election. No one wants to be last to succeed at something or to be the last to reach any of the milestones of life. But not all lasts are bad. I savored my last walk at work today. Without my usual walking partner (who walks so fast I practically have to jog to keep up with him), I slowed my pace and enjoyed my last trip past the marshland and along the mile-long runway. I was much more conscious of the vegetation and the birds and the mountains.
Without lasts, there can be no firsts. I am ready for both at this stage of my life.
Yesterday I walked to our administration building for my last annual performance review. Today at noon I took my last walk around the field at work, walking by the runway and baylands for the last time. I also paid more attention to my environment, looking and seeing with much greater awareness. I removed my headphones and made a point of listening to the world around me. I heard geese honking, the buzz of insects, the wind in the weeds. I saw several white egrets and butterflies. I noticed the weeds with their colorful flowers, in purple, yellow and white. I looked closely at the still-green hills just the other side of the bay.
Today was the last day I had to get up early and go to work. I took care of a last work request by my supervisor. When I go somewhere, I wonder to myself if this is the last time I will visit that shop or restaurant or park. I recently made last visits to the veterinarian, doctor and dentist, and ordered a last refill of a couple of prescriptions.
Friday we will have our last family therapy call. On Sunday, I will make my last drive from California to Utah to pick up my daughter, and this will be the last time the dogsitter will stay at my California home with my dogs.
I am not saddened to think about all these 'lasts.' On the contrary, once the 'lasts' are out of the way, I will start encountering 'firsts.' My first drive from California to New Mexico. The first time my daughter will be home for more than a few days in nearly a year. Our first residence in New Mexico. My first retirement. (Some people retire from one line of work, then start working at something else). I am continuing to work on my first book. I hope someday to sell my first photograph.
Firsts and lasts are both important, I think, although firsts get a lot more attention. There seems to be something negative about last: No one wants to finish last in a race or in an election. No one wants to be last to succeed at something or to be the last to reach any of the milestones of life. But not all lasts are bad. I savored my last walk at work today. Without my usual walking partner (who walks so fast I practically have to jog to keep up with him), I slowed my pace and enjoyed my last trip past the marshland and along the mile-long runway. I was much more conscious of the vegetation and the birds and the mountains.
Without lasts, there can be no firsts. I am ready for both at this stage of my life.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Time for a Change
"Time for a Change." That is the title of a song by Michelle Millis Chappel, a local singer/songwriter. Although Michelle has a PhD in psychology from Princeton University, she walked away from a successful career as a university professor to follow her dream of becoming a musician. She also teaches workshops to help others follow their dreams, live their authentic lives and let their true selves shine through. I took a couple of classes from her a few years ago, and reconnected with her last month when I took another 1/2-day workshop from her in Santa Cruz. It was pouring rain, and I really didn't want to drive through the mountains to get there, but I am so glad I did.
Michelle and I are Facebook friends, and just this morning I clicked on a link on her home page and listened to this song. It really hit home. It truly is my time for a change as well as a time to change. I have just five days of work left. I have submitted my retirement paperwork and I am well on the way to getting the 20 (!) approvals I need as part of the electronic check-out process.
My daughter and I talked last night about all the changes we will soon be facing and the stresses they may cause. For me, major changes include retirement, moving to a new city and state, and having her home with me again. She has been attending school out of state for almost a year. She will face changes in learning to live at home once again, in being part of a family, moving to an unfamiliar city and attending a new school.
Many people fear change. They let inertia rule their lives. It certainly is easier to leave things as they are, to not rock the boat or go out on a limb or stretch oneself. They cling to the security of the known, no matter how boring or energy-sapping it may be.
I sometimes feel apprehensive about change, but I also have a history of embracing it. Change keeps me on my toes, it refreshes and challenges me. I jumped at the chance to live and work in Moscow for several months, when others refused to go. I accepted a job in Houston in large part because I was bored with my job in California and knew that I needed a change of environment. I ultimately decided I didn't like living in Houston and returned to California, but I don't regret making the initial change. I learned a lot and challenged myself to succeed at some things that were not comfortable for me to do.
When a therapist I know asked me to co-author a book with her about raising a child with trauma- and attachment-related issues, I hesitated for a short time. And then I decided to give it a shot. I love to write, and I had a lot to say. The book isn't finished yet, but I love writing, and manipulating words and thoughts to get just the right meaning is so much fun. I hope this book will help other parents of adopted kids who are struggling.
Once I started writing, I began to think of myself differently. When someone I didn't know well asked me what I do for a living, I blurted out "I'm a writer." I have no idea where that came from. But since then, I have started to think of myself as a writer, not just as someone who writes. How I view myself has changed as a result of accepting an invitation to do something I haven't done before. I have written articles and news releases, but I never thought of writing a book. I have changed simply by doing something different.
I know people who stick with the tried and true, who run from trying new things or going new places. How boring their lives must be! How can people live without at least a small sense of adventure? I love to push my capabilities. When I was younger, I loved to push myself physically, and I still do as much as I am able. I ran a marathon (26.2 miles) in hilly San Francisco, I walked 60 miles over three days to raise funds for breast cancer detection and research, and I rode my bicycle 60+ miles one day.
If we don't embrace change, if we refuse to seek variety and challenge in our lives, how can we grow as individuals? And if we don't grow, are we truly living? In my mind, when I stop changing, when I stop growing, that's the day I start to die. And I refuse to live my life like that.
Change definitely can be scary. But for me, not changing is even scarier.
Michelle and I are Facebook friends, and just this morning I clicked on a link on her home page and listened to this song. It really hit home. It truly is my time for a change as well as a time to change. I have just five days of work left. I have submitted my retirement paperwork and I am well on the way to getting the 20 (!) approvals I need as part of the electronic check-out process.
My daughter and I talked last night about all the changes we will soon be facing and the stresses they may cause. For me, major changes include retirement, moving to a new city and state, and having her home with me again. She has been attending school out of state for almost a year. She will face changes in learning to live at home once again, in being part of a family, moving to an unfamiliar city and attending a new school.
Many people fear change. They let inertia rule their lives. It certainly is easier to leave things as they are, to not rock the boat or go out on a limb or stretch oneself. They cling to the security of the known, no matter how boring or energy-sapping it may be.
I sometimes feel apprehensive about change, but I also have a history of embracing it. Change keeps me on my toes, it refreshes and challenges me. I jumped at the chance to live and work in Moscow for several months, when others refused to go. I accepted a job in Houston in large part because I was bored with my job in California and knew that I needed a change of environment. I ultimately decided I didn't like living in Houston and returned to California, but I don't regret making the initial change. I learned a lot and challenged myself to succeed at some things that were not comfortable for me to do.
When a therapist I know asked me to co-author a book with her about raising a child with trauma- and attachment-related issues, I hesitated for a short time. And then I decided to give it a shot. I love to write, and I had a lot to say. The book isn't finished yet, but I love writing, and manipulating words and thoughts to get just the right meaning is so much fun. I hope this book will help other parents of adopted kids who are struggling.
Once I started writing, I began to think of myself differently. When someone I didn't know well asked me what I do for a living, I blurted out "I'm a writer." I have no idea where that came from. But since then, I have started to think of myself as a writer, not just as someone who writes. How I view myself has changed as a result of accepting an invitation to do something I haven't done before. I have written articles and news releases, but I never thought of writing a book. I have changed simply by doing something different.
I know people who stick with the tried and true, who run from trying new things or going new places. How boring their lives must be! How can people live without at least a small sense of adventure? I love to push my capabilities. When I was younger, I loved to push myself physically, and I still do as much as I am able. I ran a marathon (26.2 miles) in hilly San Francisco, I walked 60 miles over three days to raise funds for breast cancer detection and research, and I rode my bicycle 60+ miles one day.
If we don't embrace change, if we refuse to seek variety and challenge in our lives, how can we grow as individuals? And if we don't grow, are we truly living? In my mind, when I stop changing, when I stop growing, that's the day I start to die. And I refuse to live my life like that.
Change definitely can be scary. But for me, not changing is even scarier.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Mothers and Daughters
I've read about women who said that their mothers were their best friends. That started me thinking about my relationship with my mother, who died in November 2006, and with my daughter. My mother and I were never close, both geographically and emotionally. For whatever reason, I never felt the closeness that many women have with their moms. I have a friend who has a very close relationship with her mother, and they are more like friends than mother and daughter. When my friend and her husband moved out of state, her mother moved, too, to a city nearby.
I never gave the mother/daughter relationship a great deal of thought until my mother died rather suddenly. Then I realized that there were some things I wish I had told her. Now that I am the mother of a 16-year-old daughter, I have found myself hoping to have a much closer relationship with her than I had with my mother. I am trying to do things that might help us develop a close relationship. She has told me that I am not just her mother, but also her best friend. That's a pretty special statement from a 16-year-old these days.
Hearing her say these things is rather amazing. I adopted my daughter from Russia when she was 11 years old. She never had much of a relationship with her birth mother, and what she had was not a positive experience for her. She has said that she didn't deserve a loving mother. It took a lot of time and hard work for her to be able to accept that I love her and will always be there for her, and it took a similar amount of work for her to be able to admit that she loves me, too. Opening herself up to love also meant exposing herself to potential hurt. Despite the fact that coming from a traumatic background has made attaching to and trusting me very difficult, we do have a good relationship, one that is improving and growing stronger all the time. I know how important our relationship is to her.
I want my daughter to be able to tell me or ask me anything. Learning to trust when all the adults in your life have betrayed your trust and abandoned you takes a huge amount of effort and a big leap of faith. She also is very worried that she will hurt my feelings if she tells me something I may not want to hear. I have told her that I would rather deal with what she needs to tell me than to know that she is being less than truthful with me.
My daughter is her own person; she is creative and artistic and outgoing, all things I am not. She learns best through hands-on experience, I through listening and note-taking. We share a love of animals, photography and reading. And we enjoy spending time together, even when it involves hard work such as cleaning the garage.
My dream for her is simple: that she become the best person she can become, whether she is a teacher, an artist, fashion designer or mechanic. I want her to find a career that she enjoys and that will provide her a comfortable life style. I have a master's degree in education, but she may well not go to college. If not, she understands that she will need to attend art school or a vocational program of some kind. My dreams are not her dreams.
I just want her to be happy. And being happy, for someone with her background, cannot be taken for granted. It isn't a natural feeling. But she no longer feels doomed to a short, unhappy life. She knows she deserves a good life and happiness. She knows that she deserves love, and a mother who will always be there for her. I hope she understands that as humans, we all make mistakes, and we all hurt others at some point in our lives. But that doesn't mean the relationship is doomed.
As I have told her repeatedly, and I believe she now accepts this, she and I are a team. We will face life's challenges together, as mother and daughter, and as friends.
I never gave the mother/daughter relationship a great deal of thought until my mother died rather suddenly. Then I realized that there were some things I wish I had told her. Now that I am the mother of a 16-year-old daughter, I have found myself hoping to have a much closer relationship with her than I had with my mother. I am trying to do things that might help us develop a close relationship. She has told me that I am not just her mother, but also her best friend. That's a pretty special statement from a 16-year-old these days.
Hearing her say these things is rather amazing. I adopted my daughter from Russia when she was 11 years old. She never had much of a relationship with her birth mother, and what she had was not a positive experience for her. She has said that she didn't deserve a loving mother. It took a lot of time and hard work for her to be able to accept that I love her and will always be there for her, and it took a similar amount of work for her to be able to admit that she loves me, too. Opening herself up to love also meant exposing herself to potential hurt. Despite the fact that coming from a traumatic background has made attaching to and trusting me very difficult, we do have a good relationship, one that is improving and growing stronger all the time. I know how important our relationship is to her.
I want my daughter to be able to tell me or ask me anything. Learning to trust when all the adults in your life have betrayed your trust and abandoned you takes a huge amount of effort and a big leap of faith. She also is very worried that she will hurt my feelings if she tells me something I may not want to hear. I have told her that I would rather deal with what she needs to tell me than to know that she is being less than truthful with me.
My daughter is her own person; she is creative and artistic and outgoing, all things I am not. She learns best through hands-on experience, I through listening and note-taking. We share a love of animals, photography and reading. And we enjoy spending time together, even when it involves hard work such as cleaning the garage.
My dream for her is simple: that she become the best person she can become, whether she is a teacher, an artist, fashion designer or mechanic. I want her to find a career that she enjoys and that will provide her a comfortable life style. I have a master's degree in education, but she may well not go to college. If not, she understands that she will need to attend art school or a vocational program of some kind. My dreams are not her dreams.
I just want her to be happy. And being happy, for someone with her background, cannot be taken for granted. It isn't a natural feeling. But she no longer feels doomed to a short, unhappy life. She knows she deserves a good life and happiness. She knows that she deserves love, and a mother who will always be there for her. I hope she understands that as humans, we all make mistakes, and we all hurt others at some point in our lives. But that doesn't mean the relationship is doomed.
As I have told her repeatedly, and I believe she now accepts this, she and I are a team. We will face life's challenges together, as mother and daughter, and as friends.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Russia: Do the Right Thing for the Children
As the mother of a child from Russia, I, like so many others, was appalled to hear of the Tennessee woman who put her adopted 7-year-old son on a plane by himself and returned him to Russia. She and her mother claim that the boy had a 'hit list' of people he wanted to kill, was violent and was caught trying to set the house on fire. The boy, Artem, was adopted last September, a mere 7 months ago.
Now the Russian government, understandably outraged by this betrayal of a child, is threatening to suspend all adoptions by Americans. While I understand the government's anger, I cannot understand how government officials can believe that denying hundreds or thousands of children in Russian orphanages a chance at a better life in America is going to help anything or anyone.
The outrageous actions of one woman do NOT represent me or the thousands of Americans who have adopted from Russia and who are providing loving homes to their children. I know from personal experience and from talking with other adoptive parents how much they sacrifice to care for their sons and daughters, and how hard they work to address their problems in a loving, supportive way.
Adopted children, whether from Russia, the U.S. or any other country, often suffer from emotional problems. Children who have been institutionalized are prone to attachment problems, which affect their ability to bond with their parents, give and accept love, and trust others. Many of these children also suffer from trauma and abuse (physical, emotional or sexual), resulting in post-traumatic stress disorder. They may have been malnourished while in the orphanage or received inadequate medical care. And significantly, many languish in orphanages without the all-important sense of love, without a caring touch, without the nurturing that children need in order to thrive.
I believe that most adoption agencies do not adequately forewarn or prepare adoptive families to recognize and deal with the most common emotional problems they are likely to face. But families do NOT just give up on their children and 'return to sender' those kids who have difficulties. Treatment may not be easy to find, and it is definitely expensive, but there is help for the children and for the families struggling with difficult children. When my daughter had behavioral problems, I got help for her. I am fortunate to live in a part of the country where therapists knowledgeable about attachment disorders and PTSD in children are available. Most therapists do not know how to treat children with these issues, as I learned from personal experience. But help is out there. Support also is available for parents struggling to raise difficult children. It is not clear whether the woman in Tennessee sought professional help for Artem. It also remains unknown whether she reached out for support to other adoptive parents, or to any of the family support organizations in the U.S.
Regardless of this woman’s actions -- and I agree that she did not handle the situation properly -- the fundamental question is, How does suspending adoptions protect children in orphanages? Suspending adoptions because of the thoughtlessness of one person is counterintuitive; prolonging a child's stay in an orphanage is not going to 'make things better.' On the contrary, the longer a child is institutionalized, the greater the risk of emotional problems. This is not to say that the orphanage staff don't care about these children. I believe they do. But they are poorly paid, and funds for caring for the children are limited. There also is a different cultural view of orphans in Russia and Ukraine (and probably in other countries as well) than in the U.S. Because caregivers often are not aware of the thinking in developmental psychology and how to help minimize the impacts of institutionalization, the children often languish, lacking sufficient human interaction, mental stimulation and a sense of being loved.
Although the number of Russian children adopted by Americans has dropped off in recent years, nearly 1,600 Russian children were adopted and brought to the U.S. last year. Adopting from Russia is a lengthy, expensive, paperwork-filled and laborious endeavor. Those who make their way through the maze of American and Russian legal requirements do so because they sincerely want to bring a needy child into their families. The National Council for Adoption, a U.S. adoption advocacy group, estimates that more than 60,000 Russian orphans have been successfully adopted by American families.
Sadly, a handful of Russian kids has died or been abused at the hands of their adoptive American parents. But never have I seen how this number compares with the number of Russian kids who die at the hands of their Russian parents, or on the streets, each year. It seems the Russian government doesn’t talk about that.
I join with other adoptive families and call on the Russian government to set aside its anger and national pride and allow adoptions to Americans to continue. Review the process and requirements if need be. But think about the more than half a million Russian children still living in orphanages. Who is really going to be hurt by the proposed suspension of American adoptions? Certainly the prospective families will be hurt, but once again, the real victims will be the children.
Now the Russian government, understandably outraged by this betrayal of a child, is threatening to suspend all adoptions by Americans. While I understand the government's anger, I cannot understand how government officials can believe that denying hundreds or thousands of children in Russian orphanages a chance at a better life in America is going to help anything or anyone.
The outrageous actions of one woman do NOT represent me or the thousands of Americans who have adopted from Russia and who are providing loving homes to their children. I know from personal experience and from talking with other adoptive parents how much they sacrifice to care for their sons and daughters, and how hard they work to address their problems in a loving, supportive way.
Adopted children, whether from Russia, the U.S. or any other country, often suffer from emotional problems. Children who have been institutionalized are prone to attachment problems, which affect their ability to bond with their parents, give and accept love, and trust others. Many of these children also suffer from trauma and abuse (physical, emotional or sexual), resulting in post-traumatic stress disorder. They may have been malnourished while in the orphanage or received inadequate medical care. And significantly, many languish in orphanages without the all-important sense of love, without a caring touch, without the nurturing that children need in order to thrive.
I believe that most adoption agencies do not adequately forewarn or prepare adoptive families to recognize and deal with the most common emotional problems they are likely to face. But families do NOT just give up on their children and 'return to sender' those kids who have difficulties. Treatment may not be easy to find, and it is definitely expensive, but there is help for the children and for the families struggling with difficult children. When my daughter had behavioral problems, I got help for her. I am fortunate to live in a part of the country where therapists knowledgeable about attachment disorders and PTSD in children are available. Most therapists do not know how to treat children with these issues, as I learned from personal experience. But help is out there. Support also is available for parents struggling to raise difficult children. It is not clear whether the woman in Tennessee sought professional help for Artem. It also remains unknown whether she reached out for support to other adoptive parents, or to any of the family support organizations in the U.S.
Regardless of this woman’s actions -- and I agree that she did not handle the situation properly -- the fundamental question is, How does suspending adoptions protect children in orphanages? Suspending adoptions because of the thoughtlessness of one person is counterintuitive; prolonging a child's stay in an orphanage is not going to 'make things better.' On the contrary, the longer a child is institutionalized, the greater the risk of emotional problems. This is not to say that the orphanage staff don't care about these children. I believe they do. But they are poorly paid, and funds for caring for the children are limited. There also is a different cultural view of orphans in Russia and Ukraine (and probably in other countries as well) than in the U.S. Because caregivers often are not aware of the thinking in developmental psychology and how to help minimize the impacts of institutionalization, the children often languish, lacking sufficient human interaction, mental stimulation and a sense of being loved.
Although the number of Russian children adopted by Americans has dropped off in recent years, nearly 1,600 Russian children were adopted and brought to the U.S. last year. Adopting from Russia is a lengthy, expensive, paperwork-filled and laborious endeavor. Those who make their way through the maze of American and Russian legal requirements do so because they sincerely want to bring a needy child into their families. The National Council for Adoption, a U.S. adoption advocacy group, estimates that more than 60,000 Russian orphans have been successfully adopted by American families.
Sadly, a handful of Russian kids has died or been abused at the hands of their adoptive American parents. But never have I seen how this number compares with the number of Russian kids who die at the hands of their Russian parents, or on the streets, each year. It seems the Russian government doesn’t talk about that.
I join with other adoptive families and call on the Russian government to set aside its anger and national pride and allow adoptions to Americans to continue. Review the process and requirements if need be. But think about the more than half a million Russian children still living in orphanages. Who is really going to be hurt by the proposed suspension of American adoptions? Certainly the prospective families will be hurt, but once again, the real victims will be the children.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)