Sometimes in the world of social work and counseling, we can become so accustomed to talking about the hard stuff- depression, grief, anxiety, suicide- that for me, my tough conversations do not always hit me with their entire weight right there in the moment.
Sometimes, the emotions hit me in the car, right after I’ve left to go home, and my drive is wrecked by tears as I realize the weight of the children’s hearts from earlier that day.
And sometimes, it takes weeks for all the crises to pile up enough that I take time to stop and appreciate the grace in the stressful moments from the days before.
But every once in a while (and by that I mean almost weekly) a child speaks such a profound truth to me that immediately I realize that he or she has given me the gift of a new perspective.
These small moments, when something so powerful and striking is spoken into existence, remind me that the children who seem to have the toughest things going for them often have wisdom to share with us that can change how we see the world, if we are just willing to listen.
Today I had a kid come into my office and tell me he was sorry for causing so many problems over the last two months.
Honestly, I had not thought much about this kid’s behavior recently. Things had been smooth sailing, and a quiet day or week gives me time to follow my schedule and catch up, so his small write ups from weeks ago seemed like they took place in another time altogether.
So this kid asks to speak with me and apologizes from the start.
Right there, I was done. Words of apology from kids are my love language.
I immediately thanked him for apologizing and jumped to verbal praise because this child said sorry and sometimes when I run out of candy, words are all I have to offer.
No questions asked-you are forgiven. Let’s move on.
This child smiled and interrupted my praise to continue speaking. The thing is, my kid wasn’t done saying what he needed to say. Like I said, most of the time the kids who are “trouble makers” have something important to say if we just close our damn mouths and open our ears for a minute.
So I listened:
My kid proceeded to provide me with education on the stages of grief and loss (which I am not used to being on the receiving end of) in slang and straight-to-the-point language that I actually may borrow in the future because it really got the point across.
“Have you heard about grief and loss before?” he asked me.
Internally, I am wondering where this conversation could be headed. I prepare myself to have a hard conversation about losing a loved one, assuming this kid is about to tell me his behaviors over the last few months were in response to losing someone. As I listen quietly, my mind is hard at work preparing for the conversations are hardest for me personally. I tell myself that this child needs me to be strong right now.
I was mostly wrong.
“I’ve realized that when I first got to this facility, I started going through the process of grieving the loss of my freedom.” he tells me.
*Cue my jaw dropping*
“You know how when we lose something we go through denial, then anger or sadness or whatever, and then you just start to accept the bad shit that happens?”
I nod. “Yes,” I respond, to show this kid I’m still with him, although internally I am attempting to keep it together because I am thinking, “This is the kid who GETS it! He absorbed some form of therapy like a little sponge and is applying it to his life!” I automatically think to myself that this kid paid attention. He want to therapy and remembered something, and for any therapists or counselors out there working with adolescents, you know the feeling when it seems like for once a kid actually listened.
The only thing that could possibly make me more excited in that moment was if this kid told me this while simultaneously starting to meditate or do some other silly coping skill we talked about in group earlier that day.
“I think when I first got here, I was grieving the loss of my freedom. I’ve been here before, and was grieving the loss of my goal to not ever come back,” this child continues to tell me.
And for some reason, that perspective made me see it: sure, this kid has listened, but more than that, this kid has taken a really tough situation and decided to make sense of it. This kid did what I fail to do each and every day- take the hard experiences and feelings and sit with them until they make sense.
“Then I think the reason I was acting out and stuff was because I was angry. I was sad, too, because I don’t like being alone and the more angry I acted the more I couldn’t be with the other kids,” he continues.
This kid was opening my eyes in that moment more than he will probably ever know. I’m guessing he had no idea how hard I had to work to hold back my tears as he continued to pull back the curtain and share his heart with me.
“Now I think I’m getting to acceptance. I’m just tryna chill until court and accept whatever happens.”
As one might guess, I’m a little shocked at this point. I smile and tell him how impressed I am with his perspective, and try to muster up some small response worth this kid’s time.
I ask this kid if he knew he was experiencing grief of the loss of his freedom as he was going through the process, to which he responds,
“Nah Miss Darcy, that’s the way grief works. You normally don’t even know you’re grieving until you get to acceptance. Isn’t that whack?”
I had to laugh, and agree that it is indeed whack that grief works that way. Aside from the daily wisdom kids instill upon us, I would be lying if I didn’t mention how much I appreciate them keeping me young with the slang and lingo they remind me is cool every day.
This client/resident/inmate/child had just opened up the door for me, the “professional”, to see grief within this environment in a brand new way.
This kid had no idea how intelligent and capable he was. We spent the next thirty minutes with me repeating over and over just how wise and self-aware this kid is, with the hopes that he would begin to see all the great things he is capable of.
I made it a point throughout this session to affirm this child. This child has been told over and over again throughout his life that he makes bad decisions, that he’s just a “troublemaker,” that he will never make it out of the system, and that he does all these outrageous acts just to get attention.
And sadly, that’s what most of our kids hear. Kids in the child welfare system or juvenile justice system have experienced so much trauma, and too often they are told that their decisions define them.
So for a kid that’s been labeled things like “bully,” “high-risk,” and “dangerous,” it makes sense that he would begin to believes those labels define his future.
When really, the truth of the matter is this child was far more self-aware than most high functioning adults are on their good days, and has more than enough skills to be successful if someone would just pay attention.
So that’s what I told him.
“You are so capable.”
“You have some of the best self-awareness I’ve ever seen.”
“You really spent time checking in with yourself during this tough time, and it shows.”
And you know what the outcome was? This kid left my office today with the goal of identifying the times where it is hard to make good decisions, in hopes that he will continue to grow and achieve his goals.
This kid left my office today with the understanding that at least one person in this world really believes he will be successful every time he can, and when he can’t he just might not have the skills to face that challenge in the moment.
And we ended with laughter about the play dough on the floor and in his hair, because sometimes kids need a chance to just be kids, even in detention.
And so I guess all this is to say that I don’t think I really taught my client anything today. He knows far more than me about suffering and will always be the expert on himself.
But I did learn something from my client today: grief can take many forms. In the world of trauma-informed care, we love to address the research that shows out of home placements, foster care, divorce, detention, etc. can cause trauma. A thought I had not considered before today was just how much these events can cause our kids grief as well.
So maybe the kid talking out in class really doesn’t have good communication skills, or maybe he’s just grieving the loss of a parent to incarceration and is letting his anger out in the place that feels safe for him.
Maybe that girl in your church really is fighting her peers because she doesn’t have emotional regulation skills, or maybe she does and is just grieving the only way she knows how after her mom moved out.
Kids will always impress us with what they know if we allow them time to talk and offer our ears to listen. Adults do not always know best and we can not hear the words of the children in pain around us if we don’t take time to sit in the silence and hear their stories.
Today I am thankful for the opportunity to celebrate with kids when they want to celebrate, but I am also thankful to grieve with them through life when they need to grieve.
Above all, I am thankful for the kids who remind me each day that ups and downs look different for each of us, but showing support most always looks the same.
“For everything there is a season,
a time for every activity under heaven.
2 A time to be born and a time to die.
A time to plant and a time to harvest.
3 A time to kill and a time to heal.
A time to tear down and a time to build up.
4 A time to cry and a time to laugh.
A time to grieve and a time to dance.
5 A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones.
A time to embrace and a time to turn away.
6 A time to search and a time to quit searching.
A time to keep and a time to throw away.
7 A time to tear and a time to mend.
A time to be quiet and a time to speak.
8 A time to love and a time to hate.
A time for war and a time for peace.”
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8