I think today is the day I'll finally hit that bright orange "Publish" button that keeps staring me down.
It's not that I'm finally satisfied with what I've written. I'm far from it. It's more that I have been neglecting my need for reflection and I'm seeing the negative impact that has on me. Reflection time hasn't been high on my priority list because I feel like I should be working on something else, or when I do have spare time I feel so emotionally drained that I'd probably choose being put in a box with mosquitos and gnats before reflecting on my life at Amigos. Hell, sometimes it seems like I don't have any more skin for the bugs to bite anyways so being in that box couldn't be too bad, right?
But, like I said, the lack of reflection is catching up to me and contributing to my current state so here we go...
At the start of the year we were all warned about the "Culture Shock Curve" which I'd like to re-name the "Rollercoaster of Hell" (a good hint for what stage I'm currently in)...
Man, that good ol' honeymoon phase was awesome. I was on cloud-9. It was like "United States? Who? Huh?" I was all about staying here for another year and never saw myself wanting to leave. I felt at home.
Then the end of November hit. Right before Thanksgiving I got sick. I was in and out of bed (in more so than out) for a solid 3 weeks or so. Once I finally got partially back on my feet after taking some anti-parasite meds, I had no time to recover. It was December now, a crazy time at Amigos, so I hit the ground running. While other volunteers at the hogar all got some sort of vacation, the volunteer group I'm part of picked up the slack wherever needed. All of this thrown together created "Withdrawal Jill" which is a lot nicer word than I, or probably most people around me, would use. So, after almost 6 months in Honduras, I finally hit the dreaded "low-point" of my time here. Yessir, I'm in the low-point phase. Loud and proud! Okay, maybe not so much like that but, you get the point.
This is another reason I haven't wanted to blog. My thoughts are far from pretty and some days they are horrendously ugly. Most days my patience feels non-existent. On rare occasions I'll see a glimmer of hope, like a light at the end of this smelly, humid, obnoxious low-point tunnel. But then, something like this unfolds: one little girl decides to wrap my leg in-between her legs as she has a melt down for no apparent reason, while 2 adults try to talk to me about the dentist appointment tomorrow (ignoring the meltdown attached to my leg), and 4 other little kids run up screaming about god-knows-what-nonsense. Meanwhile all I wanted to do was make it back to the house to finally eat dinner with my volunteer community who will eventually give up waiting because the food is getting cold. So, what seemed like a light at the end of the tunnel actually ended up being a warning flash for the giant crash that was about to ensue. Sneaky, sneaky light...
Anyways, today I logged onto Blogger to re-read some posts that have been sitting in my draft folder since the beginning of November or earlier. I decided to continue reflecting on a topic that I began a while back. In order for these thoughts of mine to be somewhat understandable on paper (or screen?), they're broken up into 3 sections: family life vs. hogar life, attachment disorder, and compassion for the other side. Each of these could easily be their own posts but I guess now I'll make up for some lost time.
When you look back on your childhood it may be easy to see how you had it "rougher" or maybe how you had it "better" compared to your peers and their families. I know that I spent a great deal of time reflecting on that prior to this year, and I still continue to, but now with a different perspective. Regardless of what trials and tribulations I've faced, at the end of every day I'm so unbelievably privileged. I know that I am privileged in many ways, but there is one that especially stands out here: I grew up with parents.
I'm sure most of us can find ways in which we think our parents "fell short" or made mistakes but the fact that we can sit here and talk about our parents or our family is an incredible gift in itself that is often taken for granted. Don't get me wrong, it isn't like I'm now at 23 years old finally seeing how much my parents sacrificed for me. I hit that stage after my annoying, angsty preteen years. I thank them on a regular basis and attribute all that I've done so far to them. But now, when I say thank you, there is so much more to it.
There's a question that comes up fairly often in the volunteer community and at times with some of the kids:
At Amigos they try to make life as "normal" as possible with their emphasis on family and they constantly look for ways to live out this part of the mission. For example, all 120+ kids used to eat every meal in the comedor, which is basically a cafeteria, and looks nothing like a typical sit-down family meal. However, they recognized that. This year they eat every meal from Sunday dinner through Friday breakfast (excluding lunch, which is at school) in their "hogar" or "dorm", where they live. Some hogares have really taken on this idea by sitting at a table together and praying before meals, while others, like the hogar I eat in, are still working on it. Another small, but impactful, attempt to "normalize" life for the kids included giving everyone backpacks and/or lunch boxes to take to school. Not that it is necessary since sometimes they don't even have anything in them, but now it isn't just the neighbor kids who come to school with a backpack, as yet another representation that they live with their parents/family. Also, this year, the kids from the hogar come to school with a packed snack like their neighborhood friends, rather than standing in line for snack during recess.
Still, eating in a smaller group and having a backpack and a packed snack will never come close to replacing the individualized attention that comes with a family.
On the other hand, these children are blessed when compared to the numerous kids you see on the street begging for food and money. Some kids at Amigos even came from these streets. Now they never have to worry about how or when they'll get their next meal. They don't have to stress to the same degree about their future because now they are receiving an education, and it's one hell of a great education relative to other options in Honduras. They live in a safe home that provides more than just the basic needs. Even compared to other hogares in Honduras, Amigos is pretty incredible. Some of our children with special needs came from "homes" where they were simply locked in a room with other children who have special needs. Some homes allow corporal punishment. Many homes aren't financially backed by donors in the United States, which makes a world of difference. Amigos de Jesus is a blessing.
Another view, which we've heard from some of the kids during deeper conversations, is that regardless of the abuse they've endured they still rather be with their families. This is the view that hurts me the most. This is the view that is painful to really reflect on. This is the view that has kept other volunteers and myself up some nights. It is so difficult to understand it logically but when I listen more so to my heart, and my emotional thoughts, there really is still nothing that can replace a family. But then if you play that mind game, you might end up where I did--trying to figure out at what level of abuse do the pros outweigh the cons to make it worth taking a child from their family and placing them in an hogar. For me that was an ugly road of thought to go down, a road I'm embarrassed to admit I've even thought about. No amount of abuse should be tolerated. No amount of abuse is "okay". The impact of the neglect and abuse these children endured are seen daily through their actions. What would have happened to them had they never been taken from their family? But still, I keep coming back to the fact that there is no replacement for a family.
But, at the end of the day, the reality is that these children are here at Amigos. That's partially why I assumed reflecting on these topics aren't important. Yet it is, because failure to reflect leaves you feeling empty and more lost, even though I still don't entirely understand why. Life, you are a crazy confusing thing, ya know that?
"A condition found in children who have received grossly negligent care and do not form a healthy emotional attachment with their primary caregivers -- usually their mothers -- before age 5" (webmd).
"A rare but serious condition in which an infant or young child doesn't establish healthy attachments with parents or caregivers. Reactive attachment disorder may develop if the child's basic needs for comfort, affections and nurturing aren't met and loving, caring, stable attachments with others are not established" (mayoclinic).
Before June I'm not sure that I had ever heard this term before. Now it is thrown into conversations on a regular basis. Learning about this term at Amigos is like being handed a new pair of glasses that you put on to see more clearly and try to understand why some of the kids act the way they do.
This list is pretty endless. And very challenging.
In some ways it has been more difficult as time has gone on. At the beginning it was easier to have patience and take the time to understand these actions. After a while, it can start to really wear you down.
Anyways, when I take the time to pull my selfish, exhausted head out of my butt, even just a tiny bit, I see that's probably how the kids feel a lot of times. They feel like they need to fight for themselves because no one else will. Even if that isn't true, the feeling is so very real. Yet when you're busy always keeping your hands up to throw punches, you block yourself from seeing that no one is trying to throw punches back....
Still, wearing the "Attachment Disorder" perspective glasses can be exhausting. Sometimes it feels like giant cinderblocks are attached to them, weighing me down, and I get tired of wearing them. So there are days when I just rip them off and run away half screaming, half taunting, "haha!" Thinking that I'm better off without them seemingly slowing me down, but that doesn't seem to be helpful or accurate. I'm learning, slowly but surely, that without these glasses my patience ceases to exist. So, although it takes more time and energy to seek for understanding, my patience and energy goes from full to empty in 0.56 seconds without it... Life, you're such a little trickster!
I don't have a happy ending with some grand realization for this one but I'm learning bit by bit so hopefully next time I'll be further along. As for now I'm trying to remind myself that being in this position of struggle is still a blessing. It is from struggle that I will grow and be better, not just for myself, but for others.
(I thought about linking this back to the topic before about whether kids should be with their family given that the abuse is the reason for this attachment disorder in the first place. But I'm going to leave that one open for now. However, if you have any thoughts I'd love to hear them!)
It's not that I'm finally satisfied with what I've written. I'm far from it. It's more that I have been neglecting my need for reflection and I'm seeing the negative impact that has on me. Reflection time hasn't been high on my priority list because I feel like I should be working on something else, or when I do have spare time I feel so emotionally drained that I'd probably choose being put in a box with mosquitos and gnats before reflecting on my life at Amigos. Hell, sometimes it seems like I don't have any more skin for the bugs to bite anyways so being in that box couldn't be too bad, right?
But, like I said, the lack of reflection is catching up to me and contributing to my current state so here we go...
At the start of the year we were all warned about the "Culture Shock Curve" which I'd like to re-name the "Rollercoaster of Hell" (a good hint for what stage I'm currently in)...
Man, that good ol' honeymoon phase was awesome. I was on cloud-9. It was like "United States? Who? Huh?" I was all about staying here for another year and never saw myself wanting to leave. I felt at home.
Then the end of November hit. Right before Thanksgiving I got sick. I was in and out of bed (in more so than out) for a solid 3 weeks or so. Once I finally got partially back on my feet after taking some anti-parasite meds, I had no time to recover. It was December now, a crazy time at Amigos, so I hit the ground running. While other volunteers at the hogar all got some sort of vacation, the volunteer group I'm part of picked up the slack wherever needed. All of this thrown together created "Withdrawal Jill" which is a lot nicer word than I, or probably most people around me, would use. So, after almost 6 months in Honduras, I finally hit the dreaded "low-point" of my time here. Yessir, I'm in the low-point phase. Loud and proud! Okay, maybe not so much like that but, you get the point.
This is another reason I haven't wanted to blog. My thoughts are far from pretty and some days they are horrendously ugly. Most days my patience feels non-existent. On rare occasions I'll see a glimmer of hope, like a light at the end of this smelly, humid, obnoxious low-point tunnel. But then, something like this unfolds: one little girl decides to wrap my leg in-between her legs as she has a melt down for no apparent reason, while 2 adults try to talk to me about the dentist appointment tomorrow (ignoring the meltdown attached to my leg), and 4 other little kids run up screaming about god-knows-what-nonsense. Meanwhile all I wanted to do was make it back to the house to finally eat dinner with my volunteer community who will eventually give up waiting because the food is getting cold. So, what seemed like a light at the end of the tunnel actually ended up being a warning flash for the giant crash that was about to ensue. Sneaky, sneaky light...
Anyways, today I logged onto Blogger to re-read some posts that have been sitting in my draft folder since the beginning of November or earlier. I decided to continue reflecting on a topic that I began a while back. In order for these thoughts of mine to be somewhat understandable on paper (or screen?), they're broken up into 3 sections: family life vs. hogar life, attachment disorder, and compassion for the other side. Each of these could easily be their own posts but I guess now I'll make up for some lost time.
Family Life vs. Hogar Life
When you look back on your childhood it may be easy to see how you had it "rougher" or maybe how you had it "better" compared to your peers and their families. I know that I spent a great deal of time reflecting on that prior to this year, and I still continue to, but now with a different perspective. Regardless of what trials and tribulations I've faced, at the end of every day I'm so unbelievably privileged. I know that I am privileged in many ways, but there is one that especially stands out here: I grew up with parents.
I'm sure most of us can find ways in which we think our parents "fell short" or made mistakes but the fact that we can sit here and talk about our parents or our family is an incredible gift in itself that is often taken for granted. Don't get me wrong, it isn't like I'm now at 23 years old finally seeing how much my parents sacrificed for me. I hit that stage after my annoying, angsty preteen years. I thank them on a regular basis and attribute all that I've done so far to them. But now, when I say thank you, there is so much more to it.
There's a question that comes up fairly often in the volunteer community and at times with some of the kids:
Is it actually better for a child to be raised in an hogar setting rather than their home?
There are endless perspectives to take when approaching this question. I have opinions but no legitimate answer and at times it is overwhelming. Here's some word vomit to attempt summarizing my thoughts...
In a family there are generally two parents to a handful of children. In an hogar there's a padrino and a madrina, which are essentially stand-in parents, for 12+ children. All of these children come from different backgrounds and have more struggles and demons they are battling than your average child. They all require a lot of attention but it's the ones who cry for help in one way or another that are tended to the most, for obvious reasons. This in itself can potentially negatively impact the other kids who aren't crying out but still need that attention. Ultimately, at the end of the day the need always outweighs the number of adults there to help.
At Amigos they try to make life as "normal" as possible with their emphasis on family and they constantly look for ways to live out this part of the mission. For example, all 120+ kids used to eat every meal in the comedor, which is basically a cafeteria, and looks nothing like a typical sit-down family meal. However, they recognized that. This year they eat every meal from Sunday dinner through Friday breakfast (excluding lunch, which is at school) in their "hogar" or "dorm", where they live. Some hogares have really taken on this idea by sitting at a table together and praying before meals, while others, like the hogar I eat in, are still working on it. Another small, but impactful, attempt to "normalize" life for the kids included giving everyone backpacks and/or lunch boxes to take to school. Not that it is necessary since sometimes they don't even have anything in them, but now it isn't just the neighbor kids who come to school with a backpack, as yet another representation that they live with their parents/family. Also, this year, the kids from the hogar come to school with a packed snack like their neighborhood friends, rather than standing in line for snack during recess.
Still, eating in a smaller group and having a backpack and a packed snack will never come close to replacing the individualized attention that comes with a family.
On the other hand, these children are blessed when compared to the numerous kids you see on the street begging for food and money. Some kids at Amigos even came from these streets. Now they never have to worry about how or when they'll get their next meal. They don't have to stress to the same degree about their future because now they are receiving an education, and it's one hell of a great education relative to other options in Honduras. They live in a safe home that provides more than just the basic needs. Even compared to other hogares in Honduras, Amigos is pretty incredible. Some of our children with special needs came from "homes" where they were simply locked in a room with other children who have special needs. Some homes allow corporal punishment. Many homes aren't financially backed by donors in the United States, which makes a world of difference. Amigos de Jesus is a blessing.
Another view, which we've heard from some of the kids during deeper conversations, is that regardless of the abuse they've endured they still rather be with their families. This is the view that hurts me the most. This is the view that is painful to really reflect on. This is the view that has kept other volunteers and myself up some nights. It is so difficult to understand it logically but when I listen more so to my heart, and my emotional thoughts, there really is still nothing that can replace a family. But then if you play that mind game, you might end up where I did--trying to figure out at what level of abuse do the pros outweigh the cons to make it worth taking a child from their family and placing them in an hogar. For me that was an ugly road of thought to go down, a road I'm embarrassed to admit I've even thought about. No amount of abuse should be tolerated. No amount of abuse is "okay". The impact of the neglect and abuse these children endured are seen daily through their actions. What would have happened to them had they never been taken from their family? But still, I keep coming back to the fact that there is no replacement for a family.
But, at the end of the day, the reality is that these children are here at Amigos. That's partially why I assumed reflecting on these topics aren't important. Yet it is, because failure to reflect leaves you feeling empty and more lost, even though I still don't entirely understand why. Life, you are a crazy confusing thing, ya know that?
Reactive Attachment Disorder.
"A condition found in children who have received grossly negligent care and do not form a healthy emotional attachment with their primary caregivers -- usually their mothers -- before age 5" (webmd).
"A rare but serious condition in which an infant or young child doesn't establish healthy attachments with parents or caregivers. Reactive attachment disorder may develop if the child's basic needs for comfort, affections and nurturing aren't met and loving, caring, stable attachments with others are not established" (mayoclinic).
Before June I'm not sure that I had ever heard this term before. Now it is thrown into conversations on a regular basis. Learning about this term at Amigos is like being handed a new pair of glasses that you put on to see more clearly and try to understand why some of the kids act the way they do.
He seems so sweet, charming and loving all the time but watch out because he's one of the ones that will steal from you.
It's the attachment disorder.
We spent a lot of time together. I thought we were getting closer. But suddenly she started to ignore me and I have no clue why. She just keeps pushing me away.
Ah, yeah, attachment disorder.
Color time was over but when I tried to take the crayon from her she went into hysterics. It was more than a temper-tantrum. She was flailing on the ground and nothing could calm her down.
It's probably attachment disorder.
This list is pretty endless. And very challenging.
In some ways it has been more difficult as time has gone on. At the beginning it was easier to have patience and take the time to understand these actions. After a while, it can start to really wear you down.
The bell rang for lunch and I only have 20 minutes to eat and get to the other side of the hogar to babysit. There isn't time for her to be in hysterics and refusing to leave the classroom, yet again. This time it's because I can't find her Spanish notebook. I don't even teach her Spanish! It took 15 minutes alone just to get her to tell me that's why she is freaking out. At this point I can't leave her alone in the classroom to go ask for help but when I pick her up she screams, goes dead-weight, and hits and kicks.
When this internal dialogue is going on and as it replays in my mind, over and over, I feel selfish. Nearly every sentence has "I" in it. I'm making it all about me. I know this. Still, I don't always stop it. Sometimes I feel so tired and burnt out that I become very selfish with my thoughts. Sometimes I feel like I am the only one looking out for myself here so I need to stay selfish and fight for myself. They even warned us during orientation that ultimately there is no volunteer coordinator, we are our own advocates. Sometimes I don't use this advice enough, and sometimes I might even use it too much.
*BAM*
Yeah, that's the sound of life hitting me in the face telling me to take my own advice sometimes. Clearly I don't take on this perspective every time, and honestly it is even more rare for me as I'm struggling through this low-point, but I guess that's why I should sit down and reflect every once in a while...Still, wearing the "Attachment Disorder" perspective glasses can be exhausting. Sometimes it feels like giant cinderblocks are attached to them, weighing me down, and I get tired of wearing them. So there are days when I just rip them off and run away half screaming, half taunting, "haha!" Thinking that I'm better off without them seemingly slowing me down, but that doesn't seem to be helpful or accurate. I'm learning, slowly but surely, that without these glasses my patience ceases to exist. So, although it takes more time and energy to seek for understanding, my patience and energy goes from full to empty in 0.56 seconds without it... Life, you're such a little trickster!
I don't have a happy ending with some grand realization for this one but I'm learning bit by bit so hopefully next time I'll be further along. As for now I'm trying to remind myself that being in this position of struggle is still a blessing. It is from struggle that I will grow and be better, not just for myself, but for others.
(I thought about linking this back to the topic before about whether kids should be with their family given that the abuse is the reason for this attachment disorder in the first place. But I'm going to leave that one open for now. However, if you have any thoughts I'd love to hear them!)
Compassion for the Other Side
"Here is what we seek: a compassion that can stand in awe at what the poor have to carry rather than stand in judgement in how they carry it"
This quote has stuck with me over the past months. It describes how I feel when I think about the parents of the children at Amigos.
Well, most of the time, but there are some moments where it is very difficult. Sometimes it challenging to have compassion for those who have hurt the kids surrounding you, the kids who you are growing to love more and more every day. Sometimes it is difficult to have compassion for the parents because I just played scapegoat for a kid's latest meltdown which likely stems from the pain caused by their parents hurting them because they're all just trying to heal.
So, yes, it's easy to curse the parents for the pain they've caused these kids. But when I sit down and really think about it, I can't hate them. Ultimately, my heart just hurts for them. My heart hurts for them time and time again throughout every day. My heart breaks for them as I realize that they'll never get to experience their child the way they should. They'll never know the joy that comes from raising their own kid. My heart breaks even at the seemingly ordinary moments throughout the day...
Well, most of the time, but there are some moments where it is very difficult. Sometimes it challenging to have compassion for those who have hurt the kids surrounding you, the kids who you are growing to love more and more every day. Sometimes it is difficult to have compassion for the parents because I just played scapegoat for a kid's latest meltdown which likely stems from the pain caused by their parents hurting them because they're all just trying to heal.
So, yes, it's easy to curse the parents for the pain they've caused these kids. But when I sit down and really think about it, I can't hate them. Ultimately, my heart just hurts for them. My heart hurts for them time and time again throughout every day. My heart breaks for them as I realize that they'll never get to experience their child the way they should. They'll never know the joy that comes from raising their own kid. My heart breaks even at the seemingly ordinary moments throughout the day...
His parents would fall in love with his run if they could see it. It's not even really a run... it's more like a one of a kind shuffle/gallop/skip move. Regardless of what it is, it's awesome.
Her parents have no clue that she can destroy anyone, adults included, at the Memory card game. She doesn't even cheat... I already checked... and checked again. And again because that's how many times she has beat me.
His parents don't know that he has one of the most contagious laughters around. Or even if they know, they don't get to enjoy it day in and day out.
Her parents don't see that face she makes that can nearly always get her out of trouble because it grabs at your heart strings and doesn't let go. No matter how much you hate it. It's like some magical power she possesses.
They don't have the privilege of being part of some of the most private areas of their kids' lives. They'll never have mini water fights as they bathe her before a fiesta. They aren't here to do her hair and pick out her outfit.
His parents don't get to watch him grow up and mature, slowly but surely, into an extremely helpful and generous young man.
Her parents don't know how careful they'd need to be as she's getting older. Someone is going to need to start beating the boys off with a stick pretty soon. She's growing into a beautiful, young, strong woman.
They'll never be the one he begs to tell him bedtime stories. They'll never know how creative he is when it's his turn to tell one.
They'll never know how hard it is to hold in laughter when you hear him talking to himself as he tries to fall asleep.
His parents aren't there to give him the "talk" after he's caught looking up images and videos a tad too graphic for computer class... (this still cracks me up)
They'll never know how incredible this kid is when it comes to puzzles. It is mind-blowing. Or his one little hip thrust move that he always does after he finishes the puzzle. This move cracks him up, even if no one else is laughing.
They'll never know the joy and warmth that would fill their heart as they rub his back to ease his restlessness when he can't sleep.
Yet I know these things, among others, about THEIR child.
This is what breaks my heart for those parents.
I can take guesses at some of the reasons these parents can't be with their children. Sometimes I don't even need to guess, because we are told the ugly truths of their past. In many cases it is beyond clear that these parents aren't fit to care for their kids. It is usually less clear though as to how the parents got to that point in life. Some reasons I can guess because they are more universal, but others I imagine may be more specific to what it is like living in Honduras. This is when I wish I could spend more time outside of Amigos to better understand the realities of living in Honduras. As much as I'd like to say I've learned all about the culture here, the truth is that I haven't. Amigos is like a bubble of its own, planted in rural Honduras. We can walk to a local village when we have time or for kids' birthdays but that only tells you so much. Still, I hope to find other ways to learn more about the lifestyle that surrounds me outside of ADJ. I hope this will also bring more understanding to the struggles I see inside of the Amigos gate.
Until then, I pray for these parents. For strength against whatever demons they are battling that is preventing them from enjoying one of, if not the most, beautiful things in life. I cannot imagine the pain of having your child taken from you to live somewhere deemed more fit of a home.
--------------------------------------------------------
Well, that's all I have for this post. For those of you who made it through the rambling, bless your soul, patience, and curiosity...or maybe it was out of sheer boredom? Either way, thank you for reading. If you have any questions, words of wisdoms, criticisms, or musings, please send them my way!
Amor y abrazos,
Jillian
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