The lived experience, Episode 4 – This week: Mirjam, Part 1

It’s sunny when I arrive for our conversation on a late summer Monday afternoon. Just as I want to ring the bell, her husband comes walking towards me from the garden. I ask him how things are going and say that I am very shocked by the news. When Mirjam and I tried to set a date shortly before, I asked if it would fit, despite the imminent moval to elsewhere. She said the moval was not so much a bottleneck. What had coloured everything differently in recent days was the message that the biopsy result was not good: the lump she had discovered under her arm turned out to contain cancer cells, despite the lighthearted reaction of the radiologist. Considering she thought she had overcome the cancer twelve years ago, this was a huge blow to her and her husband, as well as to the children and their families. We discussed whether an interview was a good idea. I kept the option open that perhaps it was even more important now that her story was recorded and heard. Mirjam wanted to think about it for a bit and I said that whatever decision was okay and that it was entirely up to her to decide if, and if so when and where we would meet. It was not long before she replied: “Yes, perhaps my story does need to be heard. It may also give recognition to talk about it. My mother passed away this spring and after everything that happened between her and me, I had so hoped to be able to live a more relaxed life for a while. We are all very sad.”

Her husband looks at me and says, “Yes, it’s intense. It goes up and down. Sometimes you have a bit of courage and at other times you really cannot believe it and you get that helpless feeling of not knowing what to expect.” While we chat for a bit, she opens the front door and falls into our conversation. We look at each other and eyes fill with tears. The fear and uncertainty cast a great shadow over what, after her mother’s death and the moval, would have been a fresh start, a phase in which she was freed from her mother’s judgmental gaze.

I step inside, into the hall; I untie my shoes, take them off and then we hug. I hold her in my embrace for a long time and feel the restlessness in her body that is so understandable.
We walk into the living room and while Mirjam makes tea, I look around. I see that the bookcase has already been partly dismantled: empty shelves, packed books. There is a table and chair by the window that I have not seen before. When I inquire, it turns out that they do indeed come from her deceased mother’s inheritance. On the table is a bunch of sunflowers with yellow gerberas and there are flowers elsewhere, too. On the plateau next to the fireplace are a dozen handwritten cards from people who want to support her. Mirjam serves the tea and starts off with one of the things that have happened in the past few days in contact with healthcare providers.

Various events painfully remind her of what happened twelve years ago: a general practitioner who thinks it is not too bad and initially hesitates with a referral, nurses who provide information that is not relevant because of previous surgeries, radiology employees who look ignorant when she comes for an examination, a radiologist who says she cannot find anything at all: “Is that not reassuring?” “No,” she had replied, “that is not reassuring at all, because you said that twelve years ago, and it was completely wrong then.” He had been a bit annoyed and had responded: “Well, if it reassures you, I can take a biopsy, but these are not very nice interventions, so you can also decide to skip it.” The air of trivialisation in the tone of voice had struck her, but she had insisted. When she came for the results a few days later and saw two people sitting behind the desk, she knew enough, with all her nursing knowledge: they only sit together when they have to have a bad news conversation. It was, indeed, and now she is awaiting follow-up examinations. Later in the conversation we address the question whether it is the experiences in the now that make her so angry, disappointed and sad, or whether those experiences touch on all the pain of the past, causing them to tear open the old wounds time and again.

We sip our tea, surrounded by the smell of freshly baked butter cake. Mirjam tells how heartbreaking it was to have to tell the bad news to the children. Unlike in her parental family, their own family culture is not one in which there is no time and attention for such sad things, but one of openness and sharing. She therefore looks back with painful feelings at the passing away of her mother and how as siblings they sat at a distance from each other around the bed, a physical representation of the lack of contact that she had experienced all her life. Almost apologetically towards her mother Mirjam says that of course there were also happy experiences, but it is the adverse ones that have left distressing, limiting scars. An example is the last Mother’s Day, on which she had not visited her mother due to circumstances. The reaction of her very old mother: “I am very disappointed; it is typically you again who won’t come… Will your own children come to you this Sunday? No? Oh, so they do not consider you important enough to come? Well, then you know what awaits you and this is only the beginning; it will all get much worse. I always said: you do not sin cheaply by not visiting me, because what you do to me, you will get back tenfold.”

We are silent together; I notice the goosebumps on my skin and I look at Mirjam as she continues: “I have never had such a bad Mother’s Day; it really felt like my mom just put a curse on me. I was absolutely devastated. You don’t want to let it in and hit you, but it does. And this was the last real contact I had with her. She passed away shortly after that and because I felt so broken, I had not called her for a while. This conversation was such a blow to me that I did not tell the children until after her death…” I ask what her reasoning was to not share it with the children right away. She falls silent and searches for words. “Perhaps fear… or shame? Suppose she is right after all…?”

Mirjam’s voice trembles; she tells what she had tried in the past and in fact is still looking for an answer to the question of what she could have done now to prevent this kind of reaction from her mother. When I ask if she has any idea how this behaviour might be explained, she says: “I think that my mother herself had a big inferiority complex, that she was actually a psychiatric patient, although she wouldn’t admit it herself. Her whole life has been devoted to cleaning the house. Everything had to give way to that and it was her way of being the best at something. Our own birthdays, classmates’ parties, weekend outings… there could be no question of it. Even the wallet had to be cleaned into the corners with a screwdriver, spice jars dipped, lamp sockets swept with a brush… I still have scars from the hydrochloric acid used to polish the stable floors. And if it went too slow or not good enough, she could get hysterical.”

Mirjam continues: “She called her own mother every day, but we did not do that with her and she found that very disappointing. When she wanted something from us that we did not comply with, she mentioned people who actually willingly did this for their parents. If we visited a friend, she would say: ‘Oh, so that is something you do have time for?’ She continuously tried to feed into our feelings of guilt. For years, such statements were mainly aimed at me, but in recent years others in our family have also had to deal with them. This opened their eyes to what was going on for decades and where I was not taken seriously. It has now hit them hard, too.” She tells how she actually has always known the relationship with her mother as one with many reproaches: “My mother thought it was very annoying that I was born in the spring. My birthday was only celebrated when it fell on a Sunday, because on other days the big spring clean-up had to be done, then the cows had to go back to the pasture and the stable had to be cleaned. Having your birthday in the spring was thus very unwelcome… I was very unwelcome… As we cleared her house, a written note with words to that extent was found… in her bible.” Again we are silent together.

Next week we will continue Mirjam’s story.

 

The power of a good labour and birth

Recently, in three separate lactation consultations, mothers told stories of their experience that contained sad elements and that touched on ACEs. In this blog, we share a number of aspects.

One mother was unsure about whether the latch of her 7½ week old baby was going well and whether she should change things in the way she handled feeding during the day. “I really want to keep feeding. My sister really enjoyed it, too, and I don’t want to stop just yet, especially because I am self-employed and my job thus allows me to fit feeding into my day, but I keep wondering if I’m doing it right. My baby is a super fanatic drinker, said the maternity nurse, a real piranha!” I felt triggered by these two labels; are they suitable for a baby that has just come into the world…? How do they form the parents’ image of their newborn child…? I asked what made her feel insecure and where the doubts were. She told about her birth experience, in which she had wanted to stay at home, but ended up in the hospital, was placed on her back, had had medication for labour augmentation and in her opinion had to give up control. “I have experienced a strong urge among the care providers to be in control of it all; the care was not holistic and I really wanted to get out of there as soon as possible so we could do it our own way at home. All kinds of things have happened that I specifically did not want, such as an electrode on the head of our unborn baby and it was said that he would not feel anything. I felt there was a hierarchy and my baby and I were not at the top of it. They were talking *about* us, not *with* us. I didn’t want an epidural, but I did get a pitocin drip nevertheless and eventually a cut had to be made. In short… a lot has happened and I now feel that I still have to find my way at home.” We discussed everything extensively and I could confirm that she was completely right with her intuition and that she did not have to imitate the compulsion she had seen to control everything, but could rely on her child and their mutual relationship. What a reassurance that was for her… the sheer relief brought tears and she nodded vigorously at the things I described as good for her baby: cuddling, feeding abundantly, not letting them cry… That was exactly what she wanted and actually deep down also already knew.

During another consultation we had to go over some things which I normally have already taken from the intake form beforehand. This consultation was scheduled so quickly, however, that I had not had time for it. Mother said she gave birth in hospital. I usually ask whether that was also the plan or whether it arose during the birthing process. While talking it turned out that she had had a caesarean section, because various things had gone differently than hoped for. She said she was at peace with that. I looked at her and allowed for a long silence, during which I saw tears welling up in her eyes. “It’s totally okay if you’re sad about what happened. Even if you’re glad the essential things went well, you have every right to mourn what you missed and what you hoped for…” I put a hand on her arm, and the crying grew more intense. The sense of ‘being at peace with it’ was there intellectually, but emotionally it was a completely different matter. Father had also experienced the birth as intense; all sorts of things had happened that he had felt he had no control over and that had affected them both. We went through everything and I encouraged both parents to create lots of hugs and skin-to-skin contact with their baby and thus bathe all three of them in the oxytocin hormone, which is not only good for the breastfeeding relationship, but also has a healing effect.

At a subsequent consultation, feeding was still a bit difficult because the baby of about a week old was restless at the breast and did not latch too well yet, so that mother had sore nipples. Together, we went through how she could support and steer her baby when latching on, so that a larger amount of breast tissue would go into baby’s mouth and the nipple would be further back and not get damaged. That went very well during the consultation and the little bumblebee fell into a deep sleep, satisfied in mom’s arms. Mother felt better this time than when the eldest was born. She was born by caesarean section after all kinds of things had happened that the mother had experienced as traumatic: the doula was not allowed to join them in the delivery room, strangers were constantly walking in and out, disrupting concentration, and mother did not feel ‘in control’. After initially having contractions, she was not allowed to push when she was 9½ cm dilated.

When the nurses said it couldn’t go on for more than half an hour because baby was having a hard time and that a caesarean section would follow, an emergency arose in another delivery room. Everyone disappeared, father saw the half hour pass and was concerned about the baby, but no one had told the parents that medication to slow down labour had been administered and that therefore waiting longer was not a risk. All in all, the whole process had been stressful – hugely different from the experience in the birthing pool this time, well prepared, again in the hospital, but in a different town).

What is touching about these three stories is that the circumstances that the parents are sad and disappointed about and that they mourn, were not inherently related to the natural course. The pain, sadness and disappointment are mainly about communication, about the way in which their wishes were not heard or honoured, about the fact that insufficient attention was paid to the importance of privacy and gentleness. For an undisturbed and stress-free course of labour and birth, it is necessary to guarantee a safe, warm, embracing environment. The birthing woman and the baby are together the centre of that small, enclosed universe and everyone should be subservient to the great transition they make together. Labour and being born are crucial, transformative events in the lives of the parent and the child respectively. They deserve to be surrounded with the greatest respect, so that they are engraved as an anchor and a radiant experience in the mental and physical memory of (especially) mother and child.

We know that ACEs, Adverse Childhood Experiences, can occur very early in life and therefore deserve prevention. We also know that a good birth is a powerful start for the baby and that a beautiful labour experience can heal a lot of old pain for the mother. When she experiences that her body can do something she has never done before, it gives her enormous strength. She takes this strength with her in her parenting role and it helps to build the foundation for the child. Properly guiding the delivery and birth is therefore not only an emotional and spiritual responsibility. It is also simply a matter of salutogenetic, preventive health care. Let’s work together to ensure that more and more attention is paid to this!

How parents of today can take care of their little ones; Part 2

Last week, we shared a first part about communication towards new parents, following an article by Ouders van Nu. Today we discuss the second half of that contribution.

The article also discusses sleep rhythm: it speaks about a ‘normal’ sleep rhythm. In line with previous questions: what is the definition of ‘normal’? Whose standard are we talking about in this context? English has two beautiful words that are often used: ‘normal’ and ‘common’. Many things that are ‘common’ are in fact not biologically ‘normal’ (according to the biological norm). It is important to make a conscious distinction in this regard. What we refer to as a ‘normal’ sleep rhythm is different for every culture. In many countries they take a siesta; in the Netherlands we don’t do that. Is it ‘normal’ to take an afternoon nap or is it normal to only sleep at night?

Every adult human being is different; every baby is different too. All patterns added together form an average (perhaps referred to as ‘normal’). Even if not one baby sleeps according to the average pattern, it can still be the average (this is math: add everything up, divide by the number of elements). You can try and steer this a bit, but you cannot force it. Some children are very active and curious and energetic (and therefore awake a lot) from an early age and other children love to sleep a lot. Either way, they all need a sense of security to confidently surrender to sleep. That safety lies mainly in your presence as a parent, in your ability to co-regulate your child, to be sensitive and responsive and to satisfy your child’s needs as best as possible. If you succeed in that, sleeping will usually not cause too many problems. And if your baby is awake a lot and needs you, that shows something important: it might not be such a good idea that parents are often expected to combine taking care of their child with all kinds of other urgent obligations. It may help us to realise that it may be time to reshape this (socially constructed, culturally coloured) pattern of care for newborn babies.

Always looking at the baby monitor as a problem: good point, to focus on your baby and not on technology.

etting your baby sleep with you for too long: all the aforementioned points apply again here. What is  ‘too long’? According to whose opinion? On what basis can someone say it is ‘too long’? What objections can be raised against it? It is, as stated, certainly useful to have your baby close when you are breastfeeding, but that is partly defined from the perspective of the adult (namely the mother who is breastfeeding). What would happen if we gave all advice about babies and how to deal with them from *their* perspective, from the question of what *they* experience as nice or important or useful or reassuring or comforting? How can we estimate the importance of parental proximity and hearing them to *every* baby, not just the breastfed one? Who decided that at some point a baby *must* go to sleep in its own room? Who says so? For what reason? And why should that coincide with the parent’s return to work (with ‘taking care of a family’ seemingly not being defined as ‘work’)? When a (breastfeeding) mother picks up her work outside the home and the baby goes to daycare, the baby’s need for proximity to mom is often extra great at night. That is exactly for the reason mentioned in the article: babies feel safe when they know mom (and dad) are close. At night, they try to compensate for the separation during daytime. There are babies who then switch to ‘reverse cycling’: they drink little during the day, sleep a lot at daycare, and then make up for contact with their mother’s body during the night. Again, if we look at this from the baby’s perspective, this is completely logical behaviour. Your baby feels best close to you and will therefore try to realise this as much as possible. After all, your child is not focused on a career or other economic matters; your child just wants to be with you.

As a family, as parents you choose a certain nighttime sleep constellation. It is certainly true that children who enjoy this will probably try to maintain it. There’s nothing wrong with that and it makes perfect sense (as adults, we also do our best to keep what we like). However, there may come a time when one or more sleepers in the bed no longer like the situation. Then it is time to come to a different approach in good consultation and with gentle persuasion. Depending on everyone’s wishes, this will lead to a different solution. What parents choose will depend on the value they attach to nighttime contact, how much it disrupts or promotes their sleep, how heavily they weigh their child’s perception of safety, how easily the child can surrender to sleep, how much room there is in the house to do things differently, how the other children react to it… and whatever else you can think of.

In short: every family is unique. Every baby is unique too, but all over the world babies share the need to be close to their primary attachment figures, especially at night (mom, dad, grandparents, sibblings – all partly dependent on what the cultural habits are like). In the interests of baby’s needs, it seems desirable to take a broad perspective and to not persist in approaches that may be considered culturally ‘normal’, but about which science has gained new insights, in line with what we intuitively and instinctively already knew. We do not need to follow the advice of some experts without questioning it; after all, that little child, who wants to feel safe and thus lays a good foundation for a happy adult life, is not their child. It therefore does not make much sense and it is counterproductive to polarise between parent(s) and child in all kinds of media publications. That is also framing: picturing the child in such a way that it seems as if that child is a nuisance that you as a parent have to keep a little (a lot) under control, because otherwise you will guaranteed be in for trouble. Just as a fish cannot see the water in which it swims, we as humans often cannot see the strange habits of our culture. We grew up with it, were brought it up and are then stuck with it, sometimes from one generation to the next. If you’ve always believed that the people who told you certain things were right and you’ve built your own worldview around it, it can be a disturbing idea to step away from that image and say: “Hmmm… yes, now that I understand how that works with a baby or young child’s perception of safety, I can see that a lot of advice is not really useful or even harmful. Let’s approach it differently from now on!” That is often not easy, but it is a mature way of dealing with advanced insight: “I did not know it and I now see that it could be done better.” Especially people in a position with a large general audience bear a great responsibility in this regard. It is to be hoped that as a society we will have the courage to bravely shoulder that responsibility for the sake of our babies, so that they can grow up securely attached and healthy!

How parents of today can take care of their little ones; Part 1

No mistakes, but a shared quest

Recently we received a message via someone’s Facebook page about an article by Ouders van Nu. A discussion arose among the readers of the message about, among other things, whether it was written for parents of ‘now’, or more for parents of ‘the past’. Several people also found the tone patronising and had difficulty with the resoluteness of certain formulations, starting with the word ‘mistakes’ in the title (‘7 ‘mistakes that many new parents make around the issue of their baby’s sleep’).
The text of the article is not super recent, but from 2021. Nevertheless, around this time last year, the insights were already such that some comments can be made about the message to young parents. They deserve honest information and support in their completely new search, not a negative judgment about their choices. We would therefore like to discuss some aspects that can influence the perception of security of both the child and the parent in the parental role. This perception of security has a major influence on how we develop as humans and therefore also on our total health.

Indeed, let’s start with the title: mistakes. That’s a tricky opening. What does it mean for new parents to read that choices they make are ‘wrong’ choices…? On a more fundamental level: who determines what is ‘right’ or ‘wrong’…? Is there an unequivocal answer to that? How does our culture influence ideas about this? How do those kinds of ideas relate to norms and values ​​and visions of parents’ responsibility towards their baby? How do we view the task you have as parents? In it we can imagine a whole continuum, from a difficult, gruelling task that you have to work through until your children finally stand on their own two feet… to an honourable, joyful task in which you can lead a totally dependent person into adulthood… and all degrees of experience in between. More questions: what does the science say about children’s needs and how do we feel about that? What about children’s rights to have their evolutionarily imprinted needs satisfied? How well-known are those needs in society as a whole? The answers to these questions determine how we want to interact with these little creatures as long as they are completely dependent on us as adults for their survival and well-being.

Sleep: many think that sleep is something a baby needs to learn, but of course it isn’t. Babies already do that in the womb. This means they can already sleep before they are born. What we may often do is give them an experience of our world that makes it harder for them to confidently surrender to that sleep. When do we ourselves dread the night? When are we ourselves unable to fall asleep or do we keep waking up, looking for comfort and reassurance in the middle of the night? And when we need it… what do we do? How does what we as adults can do to regulate ourselves and go back to sleep compare to what a baby can initiate on their own? What is the definition of an ‘easy sleeper’? Who should it be ‘easy’ for? What is the definition of ‘good sleep’? What is the definition of ‘sleeping through the night’? Do we always sleep ‘through’, without waking up even once? And if not, where does that come from and what do we do about it (or against it)?

Crybaby, lottery, roar, terror: many words are used that create a certain atmosphere. In another word, this is called ‘framing’: you convey something in a certain way to realise a vision. You want to propagate a certain opinion and try to convince the reader or listener of this by choosing words that convey that specific atmosphere. How helpful is it to ‘frame’ the expressions of totally dependent babies with negative terms, while they rely for everything they need on their caregivers’ willingness to make things right? If a baby cannot sleep well… who is it worst for? If a baby cannot surrender to sleep… how can we explain the restlessness of that little child? Who is able to change which things about it? What is meant by the admonition not to worry about your baby’s sleeping behaviour?

Falling asleep on the couch with your baby in your arms is said to be one of the best things in the world. That in itself is a nice statement. However, it continues with the remark that this is dangerous, just like ‘bedsharing’ (letting your baby sleep in your bed). Firstly, the latter is not true, provided you have worked on a number of conditions beforehand. Second, why do parents fall asleep on the couch with their baby rather than in a safe setting in bed? This is often because parents are constantly being terrified by healthcare providers and policy makers and media outlets about bedsharing, although humanity has been cosleeping with its own children for millennia. Next thing, parents then sit on a sofa or chair while parent and child are both tired, because taking the baby to bed is ‘forbidden’. However, sharing the sleeping place is the norm for mammals, and therefore also for humans. The fact that we put babies to sleep separately, sometimes in another room, is very ‘weird’ from a socio-cultural and anthropological point of view and occurs mainly in WEIRD countries (Western, Educated, Industrialised, Rich, Democratic). It is an historic novelty, a departure from what we have always done as humans. Given the enormous numbers of people who can only sleep with the help of sleep medication, it seems a good idea to ask ourselves more often whether all those sleeping problems may have a cultural cause. Could they have their origins in childhood? Could they be related to what parents are advised and sometimes forced to do regarding sleep behaviour…? These may be uncomfortable, but nevertheless important questions to ask and investigate.

Sleeping in a car seat: that is indeed not a very good idea. Sleeping in a sling, on the other hand, is wonderful for a baby. If the cloth is properly knotted and the baby is worn in en ergonomically responsible way, this is in all respects a very beneficial place to sleep for a young child and for the parent it is often a very practical way to have their hands free while baby sleeps.

A bed surround: the risk of SIDS is mentioned here. It is indeed important to make a baby’s sleeping place safe. This applies to both a cot (where instructions for distance between the bars and mattress thickness and what not are considered very normal and are even bound by legal regulations) and an adult bed where the child sleeps together with the parents (a setting usually described as extremely risky, despite the extensive research to the contrary). It is interesting, by the way, that this phenomenon is called ‘cot death’. It names the place where the child dies. Maybe that crib is not as safe as is often claimed…? Whatever the case… cots are not forbidden. And in the tragic cases where a child dies in the parental bed… was the condition of the parents checked? Had they been drinking, smoking, taking medication? In other words: was it the sleeping place or the condition the parents were in? Here also, negative framing is often involved.

Next week, we will look at another couple of aspects.

Professionals and ACE-awareness, Episode 7 – This week: Chris Vleesman

We left with a group of about fifteen people from the location where we had enjoyed coffee and tea and delicious Valentine’s pastries. Many of us had not met before or only briefly and we would go for a brisk walk to enjoy the fresh winter air and get to know each other. Moreover, in this way we would have a good appetite for lunch after returning from the nature reserve. One of those joining was Chris and after walking with others for a while I got into a conversation with him. He is the coordinator of the Port of Kloosterveen, part of the Phusis Foundation. I already knew that he did various things, but I was especially curious about his ‘core business’: “We take care of young people who have to deal with hard-to-raise parents”, was his answer, while he looked at me with shining eyes. I burst out laughing: “Wow, what a great formulation! I like it!” He smiled back, and through my exuberant reaction he quickly noticed that I understood what he was referring to. Conversely, I quickly noticed that he understood what intergenerational transmission means. We got into a fascinating conversation that lasted the rest of the walk.

I told him that I had experienced a similar reversal just the week before. I had seen a text that spoke about confused people who end up in acute care and pose a ‘security risk’ to the social environment. While reading, I had thought of what happens if it is not possible to lay a solid foundation in childhood for the rest of life and how a ‘security risk’ arises for children. That way of looking at the term also has a different interpretation than the most common. The term ‘difficult to raise’ usually refers to the result of parenthood, to a child who is ‘difficult’. The term ‘security risk’ is usually thought of as the result of a life with so many obstacles that it leads to aggression and uncontrollable behaviour. What Chris meant, however, was that the kids are having a hard time because their parents do not really understand what they need and how to provide it. That was what I meant, too: if children do not receive what they need to thrive in their ‘first 1,000 days’, if they do not build secure attachment, they are in for an extra hurdle. Then the social environment creates a ‘security risk’, a chance that these children’s sense of security will come under pressure.

Ultimately, of course, it comes down to what approach you take when people go through their daily lives searching or wandering or getting lost, and then need support. Still, it is fascinating to see how a change in your language can help you express your mindset in a creative way. Such an innovative formulation also visualises a range of human images and worldviews. Who is responsible for what? What objectives are you pursuing? From which core values ​​do you offer a lost other a place in life, in your life? How do you want to contribute to a situation where the person you care for can find, can choose, can have their own place in the world? In the healthcare sector, it is often about how much money it costs when people ‘derail’. Chris also had ideas about this: “An ounce of well-being saves a kilo of care!” he said, as we walked a foot-wide path through a field of grass and heather in winter dress. Chris talked about the daily impact of his philosophy. The colleagues, as they are called, find their place in the care company as kitchen assistants, as recreation supervisors, as salesmen, and thus get a full-fledged life again.

Not that it is always easy and without bumps… He smiled at the memory of a week away with a group of guys who smoked way too many joints. He had gone with them to an environment where there was no weed available, but where there was plenty of attention and time for wonderful shared activities. A shaman had led a spiritual session with contemplation and music, and its effect had lasted for weeks and weeks. Even after returning home, hardly a joint was smoked. Other forms of difficult behaviour were also reduced by 50% in settings where he worked with this approach. This was the result of dealing attentively and on an equal footing with young people and young adults who, year after year, had hardly been listened to. “Although things are going well, you should not think that you can just put them somewhere else. Their history has made them vulnerable and if they lose such stable, sensitive care again, the structure in their lives can be destroyed again. Then everything falls out from under them once more, something we still see happening in many places.” We spoke about the great importance of mental well-being and meaningfulness, also and especially for those who do not succeed in shaping this completely on their own.

This also brought us to the subject of Positive Health, which is based on the salutogenetic principle: not looking from pathogenesis (where does disease come from and what should I avoid?), but from salutogenesis (how do I maintain health and what can I do best to achieve this?). At the very least, then, you need a roof over your head and a bed to sleep in. For many troubled young adults, even that is quite a challenge. Chris told about a young person who had come to them from North Africa through all kinds of wanderings and who had found temporary shelter and a safe haven at Chris’ location until a more structural solution was found. Chris and his team use the physical, organisational and legal space available in these types of emergencies. “Here, we work from unconditional love”, he described the essence of their policy. That was very different from what I had heard the week before from a manager who unfortunately had to conclude that still quite often, not compassion, but repression is the standard when people in an institution are ‘unmanageable’.

Chris had touched me with his vision and stories. When he asked where my professional interest lay, I told about ACEs, about the influence of insecure attachment on adult health and about how, after two strange years, we as ACE Aware NL finally want to show the film ‘Resilience’ through live encounters. As I had listened to him, I had realised that I would very much like to watch the documentary film with the experienced young adults. I fantasised out loud about how wonderful it would be to listen to their thoughts on it and then hear in a focus group what had appealed to them in the film and what they had recognised. Chris, too, saw the beauty of that.

Back from the walk, during lunch, we miraculously ended up speaking about trauma again with the four people at our table, about how it can lead us to want to follow our care instincts, so that someone else does not have to experience what was so difficult and sad for ourselves. We also talked about how current circumstances touch on a lot of pain from the past and create pain for the future: after all, humans are not made to function in isolation from others. We also realised how such situations hold up a mirror to us: what do we find difficult in what we feel and see happening? Do we really want to help the other person? Or are we often feverishly looking for relief from the pain that still slumbers within ourselves…? One table companion would like to delve deeper into this, given their own life story. That intention is now there.
And Chris and I will soon be sitting down together to see how a movie screening can take shape. Is it not a wonder how sometimes at the most unexpected occasions you come up with inspiring ideas and meet the most beautiful people? What a Valentine’s Day meeting!