Category Archives: Parenting

It’s Still Hard

I’m finally 97.8% over the extended drama with my holiday shingles. Somehow, and stupidly, I worked thru the worst of it. I took time off for medical appointments and worked from home.

And you know what? Now that I’m recovered, I’m completely burned out. I’m just tired.

Some key office changes made me want to plug away, grinning and bearing it, but that was a mistake.

Home life has been, well, hard. Hard for me, that is.

From the outside looking in, Hope’s home life is peachy. I’m sure that’s not her perspective, but that’s what it feels like,

There is no momentum. There’s no propulsion. No forward anything. And it is hard for me to be around this kind of energy. It feels stagnant.

I’m aware, intellectually, that it could just be that it feels stable, but emotionally it feels stagnant.

There is no desire to clean up after herself–it’s no longer an issue purely of executive function. There’s no desire to move forward in anything. She enrolled in school only because I said either she enrolled or contributed to her 529 account for later, but it’s time she contributed to her future. I’m not going to pay for more school forever.

The resentment.

She gaslights me on memory issues frequently. She recently swore that she hasn’t eaten a plum since at least 2 years prior to being placed with me. It’s more like she stopped eating plums about 3-4 years ago because she developed a sensitivity/allergy. Yesterday, I asked about the bathroom squeegee that I bought her from Ikea a long time ago. I last saw it in her bathroom a year ago. Looking at me as though I was a complete moron: “I have never owned a squeegee.”

I am not crazy. These are not things I’m mistaken about–these moments are real. What’s up with HER memory?

There was a fight about picking up her unmentionables from her bathroom floor. Hope raged: “You only happen to see it; it’s never really like that.” It’s always like that. I could actually post pictures from every day of the last week where I *happened* to see clothing on the floor.

We’ve talked about these expectations, and we continue to hang out in the land of no motivation.

I also know that Hope continues to struggle somewhat socially. The friend circle is small, and honestly, she’s probably the most stable of them all. I appreciate how she has come to appreciate the years of therapy in terms of managing the problematic people in her life, but the problems are still…there.

We are about to go into the 3rd year without therapy and probably the 2nd year without medication. Stable? Yes. Healthy? No.

I know that this is all tied together. I know that. I also know that now that we’ve hit the young adult stage and we’re past the time when she would’ve finished undergrad, and I have no idea what to expect and/or plan for. And apparently, neither does Hope.

I’m hoping to retire in a few years, and this is starting to weigh on me.

I have a lot of doubts? I worked hard to instill a work ethic, a sense of personal pride and motivation, and a desire for knowledge. These days it feels like I failed. And, if I failed, then I failed Hope, and I failed ME.

I love my daughter so much. I still want the world for her, but I want her to want it for herself. I feel like her world is shrinking instead of expanding. She mostly stays in her room in her bed.

In general she’s ok, I guess. And besides being perpetually exhausted, I’m ok too. It’s just really hard figuring things out in this chapter.


That Clock App

I know, I know. This is more action on this blog than I’ve done in like a year, but what’s up with the Will Power sitch over on the clock app (TikTok)?

Missed it? Apparently me too.

I chose to scroll Instagram instead this week, and missed a bunch of transracial adoption drama. Then it popped up on my Instagram feed.

Real talk. Who is Will Power? It seems just a Clock personality? #shrug Dunno, don’t really care.

Anyhoo, here’s what I’ve gathered: some guy named Will Power adopted a beautiful Black baby girl. Filmed himself aggressively brushing her hair with a baby brush while hoping to get to the land of Black TT in hopes that there would be Black folk to teach him what he should do with her hair. Black TT folks indeed jumped, not walked, right on into his comments and made stitch vids asking all the important questions, including but not limited to:

  • Why adopt a Black child when you seemingly have done no basic hair research at all?
  • Don’t you have any Black folk in your life that you could’ve privately asked for advice, cause this vid won’t it.
  • Do you even know any Black folks since you have to ask Internet randos?

I’m going assume there was a bit of fragility at play, because Will has taken his account private. Honestly, I’m not mad if it means he figures out how to handle his adoption story in a way that protects his kid.

Now you gotta understand, Black social media is a *thing*. It is so deeply reflective of our culture and has distinct rules of engagement. I can only imagine the sledgehammer bluntness of the interactions. It’s hard to weather that.

I remember one fine day a few years ago when I got dragged on the X formerly known as the Bird App. It was most unpleasant, but I took it on the chin and held my ground. I learned a lot that day, and it wasn’t even Black users roasting me.

So I get it. But that doesn’t help Baby Power who is helpless in the viral moment or the moments that follow. Those questions are important. Other questions are important as well like, with nearly 40K followers, how much content will rest on her shoulders and her story? I imagine with that kind of following and monetization, unfortunately there’s going to be a lot of motivation to go there. And once it’s out there, it’s out there.

In some ways it seems crazy to me; the lack of… Research? Consideration? Preparation? It’s still so visible and likely common. There are so so so many more resources than there were 10 or even 5 years ago. I mean, I guess folks just try to figure it out and make it up as they go; all parents do that. But when you are making choices in adoption, some of those choices, like race, can hit really hard.

I know with 10 years of being an AP under my belt, I’m a lot less judgemental in some ways and WHOLLY judgemental in others. And with all the info out here on Beyonce & Al Gore’s Internet, it’s hella hard not to judge folks asking randos for guidance. It’s just such a different time.

And with a baby, visibly days old, maybe this a way to start that content machine? Cause if you are worriedly fretting about her hair when she doesn’t look a week old, such that you seem to be brushing her follicles off.,. Sir you are in trouble.

Black folk are ready to help because we want that kiddo to thrive. But there are resources in existence and the search engine of your choice, hell, ChatGPT will help get you together.

First step: put the baby brush down.

Here’s a link to a repost of the deleted vid.

What’d I miss? Who’s got deets and commentary?


Happy New Year, Kinda

Has it really been that long?

I really meant to write, but my professional world got pretty crazy after my last post.

The Middle East war started, I was trying to hire a new staff person and there countless other mini dramas to contend with. All of that stressed me out more than I realized. More on that in a minute.

Hope continues to grow. While there are a number of things I wish she would make different choices about, I’m realizing those things will happen. The girl has got good values and cares about humanity. She’s a good person, which should always be the goal, right?

I did that.

And I know these other things I hope for her will come in time.

She’s working, paying her bills and embracing the balance of independence and reliance she has with me. I feel like we turned another corner.

I cook more these days to try to help her out. She loves to eat out and order food. I was falling back into cooking for myself after all these years. Paying bills and ordering food don’t necessarily go together long term. And I want some yummy but healthier options available.

Side note: she ate the breakfast hot pockets I made this weekend after saying she probably wouldn’t eat them a few days ago. I figured she would.

Anyhoo, she’s doing really well. It’s not going the way I planned it hoped, but do have a front row seat to watch.

As for me, I’ve been sick for a month. 🙄

I took off several weeks during the holidays to rest and refresh. Instead, I battled shingles in my face, eye and inner ear. Painful, scarring, and I also had a bit of facial palsy.

Ahhh, seems so quaint. On New Year’s I venture out of the house for our NYE dinner with a bit of foundation on my scars and pain meds for my ear. I would be out for another week to get my energy level up. Except somehow I had a fever again and the pain was back, so then I worked from home last week while I tried not to Google shingles complications

After a particularly bad night last week with much discomfort and little sleep I convinced myself that I had developed an encephalopathy associated with shingles because I felt like stepped on cow patties.

My PC was like, “It’s not a tumor.”

Instead, it was probably just a little viral bug, a cold, since my immune system just took a tumble.

Me: Cool, but I legit rarely leave the house. How did I catch a cold??

So, yeah that was last Thursday. I currently have an ear infection and pink eye. Oh and my sore throat is back but it’s a different kind of sore than it was this weekend.

Misery, thy name is ABM. A comedy of illness. At this rate I might still be on the sick and shut in list for my birthday. Not cool, universe, not cool at all.

I’m probably going to have to take another chunk of time off to properly recover. I know I’m replaceable, but I love my job and the people I work with. And I know that I’ll struggle all year if I don’t just take the necessary time now. I hate making these kinds of decisions. It’s not even a decision really. I also know that the only thing I can control at the moment is taking time to rest.

So yeah. All of that.

I told Hope that she’d better keep it together cause my breakdown will be completely unavoidable if she cuts up right now. 😂🙄

So we’re here. We’re good, well ok. Hope is good and I’m working on it.

Happy New Year peeps.


Greetings from Glasgow

Hope and I are in Glasgow for the week, as I am attending an international education conference. This is our first big trip since Mexico last year and only our second since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020. It is the first trip that has had Hope out, hitting the city alone. I bought her a hop-on-hop-off bus pass and left for my conference this morning.

I don’t really get to spend that much time with Hope these days. Work has just been brutal for me this last year. HR issues, projects, a major grant, more HR issues…it’s a bit of a grind, and honestly, I’m not in a season of job enjoyment. It’s just been one crisis after another for 12 long, grueling months. I get home, walk the dog, get some dinner, and retire to my room, usually my bed. I’m exhausted all the time. Hope often works in the evenings or is out with friends in the evenings, and so we really are kind of ships passing in the night. It’s been nice to have some uninterrupted time with her the last couple of days.

I tried to take her shopping this afternoon. I’ll probably try again tomorrow. I wanted to get her a few nice items she could wear as she hunts for a job better than the movie theatre. I want her to go back to school, but realistically that is unlikely to happen soon. So, I’ve been encouraging her to consider some other options. To support that I’m hoping to pick up some slacks, maybe a couple of blouses, maybe some cute shoes.

And then we got to a shop. And she liked nothing but the sweatshirts and pants. Second store–she didn’t even like the sweats there. I chuckled to myself, bought her two plain t-shirts that would replace a few grimy ones back home, and declared it dinner time. As we walked to a restaurant, I silently fretted that maybe she wouldn’t actually ever get the type of job that would have her wearing office wear. Before you know it, I’ve constructed a whole awful narrative about Hope’s life that’s rooted in my fear for her. I was half listening to her when we were walking, as I was thinking about how we have so little in common with respect to style and trends. And what did these disagreements mean? Like, could not be any more different. It’s times like this when I’m like, wow, have I had any influence on how she sees herself? How she sees the world? Any at all?

And then on the sightseeing bus, she points out a bar that banned the presence of women up until the 1970s. My daughter, Hope said, “Yeah, I think we should go in there and order a few drinks just on GP.”I smiled both to myself and to her. I agreed we should definitely pop in and have a drink before leaving just to be sure Black women have livened up the place before we depart. It reminded me that she, I have had an influence on her; she might only want sweats to wear, but I still managed to raise a feminist. I’m proud of that.

We’re off! We have a few more days here and it should be great fun!

#funtimes


Life be Lifing

Things around this neck of the woods have been busy. I’m back to traveling and doing a lot of public speaking. Hope is working more, and she’s still searching for a better job. We are actually busy these days.

Surprisingly, not so busy that we aren’t both home in the evenings just being. Both of us are recovering from relationship drama, and frankly, I’m realizing that I have to really work hard to be the social person I was pre-pandemic. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to friend and go out and have fun.

I reached out to a friend I’ve known for nearly 30 years with whom I trade memes daily but hadn’t seen since before COVID this week. It was great to reconnect–we talked for nearly 4 hours and were texting when we got home about stuff we talked about.

It was wonderful, and I was happy that I reached out and said, let’s go out. We both needed it.

For her part, Hope is becoming a lot more social and trying to learn how to be a good friend. Friendships can be hard for her. Her expectations are super high, which isn’t bad, but her picker hasn’t always been great at choosing folks who share her outlook on friendships. It’s been nice to see her stretch, though.

I, of course, still worry, but I also realize she has a much better recovery skill set than she did before. I am really encouraged.

In fact, I am really starting to think she will be ok. Like, not gonna lie, there have been times when I’ve been like….hmmm, I dunno. But I’m seeing her change a lot this year. It’s pretty cool.

We are still in a good, healthy place. I still wait for shoes to drop, but I’m now convinced that’s because aspects of parenting–and specifically parenting a child with trauma–are just traumatic on their own. I’m still kind of hyper-vigilant. I’m on my own healing journey with that.

Hope recently turned 22. I upgraded her bed from a twin to a queen-sized bed for her birthday. She was like a little kid at Christmas–so excited! We put it together, and I got all new bedding for her. She’s now making plans for how she will make over her room. It really is exciting to see this evolution.

Yappy is doing his thing–being sweet and cuddly. Not sure what I’d do without him; he really is a doll. Did I mention that he inspired my little Etsy shop? Feel free to pop over and check it out. Crochet has become one of my creative outlets during the last year, and Yappy has been sweet enough to indulge me with inspiration.

Anyway, we’re doing our thing and just…doing life!

Be well and have a wonderful summer!


Triggered by Normal

Still here. Still trucking.

Hope and I are experiencing a nice peaceful period. It’s nice.

It’s also kind of triggering in its own way. Hope and I have had a difficult few years dealing with major bouts of anxiety, depression, the pandemic, and “fits.” Many of the last 3ish years feel like a bunch of previous challenging years all smooshed together.

It’s been hard.

But we’re still here, and Hope is as close to thriving as I’ve seen in a good long while. She is still employed, but she’s also looking for a different job. We’ve identified a new therapist; everyone has adjusted meds in the last few months. Things are good, something like normal.

And yet, during these drama-lacking periods, I find myself waiting for the bottom to drop out. I don’t trust it. I’ve become so practiced at coping through incredibly difficult periods that I feel like I’ve forgotten what normal feels like. I’m actually still anxious. And because the body doesn’t forget, I know that we are coming up on a triggering time for Hope. Her birthday and the anniversary of her parent’s death. I don’t think that Hope realizes that those few weeks in June/July are the danger zone, but I’ve learned to steel myself.

I’m hopeful that we can stay in this zone. I’ve really got some trauma around this block of time. So I’ve tipped off my therapist, trying to plan some fun things for myself and hoping I can keep this family train on the tracks. I’m so excited by how far we’ve come in the last 5 months, but are we stable enough? We’re not where I’d like us to be, but I’m so grateful for the progress that’s been made. And yet still…Scared!

I’m getting better at picking my battles. I let a lot of things go. I’m also realizing just how much my head injury has affected my life. Sometimes I get so frustrated by how that brief collision changed me. It doesn’t help that I also developed seasonal photophobia. The angle of the sun for several weeks before and after the summer equinox are brutal for me. My brain doesn’t process the light well. These lingering symptoms are super frustrating, especially since they coincide with our family’s most challenging time of the year.

I’m low-key terrified.

Somehow I hope to get reacquainted with normal so that it’s not so scary. I’m hopeful we’ll have a super boring start to our summer.

Stay tuned.


Advice for TRA Parents

I follow numerous accounts on TikTok about adoption. This gem slid across my screen thanks to a duet posted by wardofthestate1.0.

Check it out.

This creator is ftpx1312

He got an immediate follow from me.


But They Would Tho.

Howdy. I really did mean to write.

🤣🙂🤣 No really I did.

Anyhoo… Long-timers know that I have done my best to to have a sex positive home. I wanted to promote loving physical relationships, as opposed to things Hope was exposed to early in life. I wanted her to know that sex came with responsibilities, but also that yes it can and should feel good… And safe.

I emphasized the essentialism of practicing safe sex, always. No exceptions.

And then, she met the person I refer to as The Demon. The sheer audacity of that individual. They wreaked so much havoc in our lives. I legit hate the fact that they are in the land of the living.

I encouraged Hope to remember the things I taught her, if you feel overwhelmed, trust your gut. If you feel disrespected, that’s a data point. I begged her to stay safe, and even if you saw their test results.

I remember feeling relief that she said yep, even as my suspicions pressed the issue because you could buy fakes.

And that’s where I lost her.

From Hope’s lens, she had been a responsible young adult, and I was overacting.

I knew a Demon when I clocked one.

But she was right. I had neglected to coach on determining authenticity. Damn. Based on what she knew, I was now nitpicking, possibly even changing the rules so I would remain ‘right.’

In the long story, I now realize that I could’ve coached a bit more around the nuance of physical relationships, also more on power dynamics.

Hope and I have had countless debriefs in the years since The Demon. She wised up fast and now occasionally brags about how she schools some of her friends. It’s that early relationship with someone you make yourself like because *theylikeyou* and before you know it it’s the worst in all kinds of ways but you tell yourself

*theloveofherlifewouldneva…..*

Oh but they would tho.

Would and usually did.

Anyway, my point is, if you’re like me and navigating adolescence/young adulthood while trying to stay sex positive, then peep the article below. Share it, help these kids use those search skills.

Why You Should Double-Check That S.T.I. Test https://nyti.ms/3M753xn

In other news, we’re fine. We did our first panel together discussing our attachment journey at a recent adoption conference. It was fun. I was really proud of her.

I have a newly renovated bathroom. I’m so happy. I’ve got a robot toilet and a deep soaking tub.

The new boo is holding his position strong. 😁

Yappy is a loveable pup. He’s starting to show his age a bit, but he’s still my favorite fur-dude.


I’m Still Here…

But I’m not gonna lie, I legit forgot the blog existed for like a week.

I’ve been consumed with raging HR issues in the office (so many meetings, decisions, consensus seeking, drama drama, drama), preparing for our annual meeting, crocheting, and existing.

Here’s a quick rundown of life since I last posted.

  • I gave Yappy an absurdly bad haircut. He was embarrassed and didn’t stop mean mugging me and hiding under the bed until I put a t-shirt on him.
  • Hope and I continue to get along pretty well. I think this has allowed us to have some serious revelations about Hope and her needs. I think we can specifically see what we need to focus on with her psychiatrist. In retrospect I realize that I didn’t advocate harder for what I thought needed to be addressed last summer. I don’t blame me, but I still regret it.
  • The lack of stability early in Hope’s life has created a straight line to our challenges right this moment. That lack of stability stunted various parts of Hope’s executive function development, including the ability to plan. The ADHD makes it worse. And the prospect of actually doing adulthood just took it to another level. She never planned for any of this, not even during the last decade with me. So, not only did she not plan for it, she never really learned how to even create the plan.
  • That sent me down my own rabbit hole. We shared a life and saw that life so very differently. I just didn’t appreciate how much trauma can result in an inability to dream about a better future. It broke my heart that Hope has lived in constant fear of rejection-such that there didn’t seem a need to bother planning a future. Just devastating.
  • I just started a bathroom renovation today that has already run my pressure up. I getting luxe upgrades. Electronic bidet! A real soaking tub! A bathroom fan with built in speakers! Quartz countertop! Custom cabinets. I spent so much money today, and even though I have the money and credit to easily absorb it, dropping big coin sends my anxiety into overdrive. I am a mess. They made quick work of the demolition today and I didn’t let myself see the space for 5+ hours after they left. Two weeks of this… And sharing a bathroom with Hope. Pray for me.
  • I ordered a beautiful dress for a fancy work dinner next week. It was supposed to be here on the 20th, and a week later still not here. I check on my order… The fabric for the dress hasn’t come in. I am done. I have no dress! Also, new beau who will be known as TGM (IYKYK), double booked as my plus one and a whisky tasting thing with the boys. #BlankStare Sooooo, no dress and no date. WTF
  • So I’m happy that I have a new psychiatrist because bay-,bee!, I don’t know how I’ve been holding it together. I’m stressed. I figure since everyone is safe and generally in a good place has allowed me to cope reasonably well. It’s a struggle tho.
  • I turned 50. I legit saw a bunch of f*cks leave the building. Sadly I seem to have f*cks to spare. In any case, I like it. I’m fabulous and fifty. I’ve been keeping my hair mostly colored these days; that brings me a bit of joy.

I’m ok. We’re ok. Just plugging along, living life.


Girl, What?

This parenting-a young-adult thing is so damn hard. I remember one time a former pastor of mine told me that God actually does give you more than you can handle in order to make you more faithful. It was powerful in the moment, but now I see that interpretation as manipulative, insinuating that everything I was already doing wasn’t sufficient… Give and do more.

Hope is evolving. Spreading her wings a bit. It’s awesome and terrifying. Her judgment is still shaky, and I kid you not, she’s into some new-ish nearly weekly.

Well in her most recent boondoggle, Hope asked me over text could she spend one night a week at her beau’s house. I replied a quick no, and braced for the firestorm.

I’m not even going to pretend to lie; my reasons for not agreeing to Hope staying out all night are complicated. I wish she was doing it from a dorm room, away at school, so I could pretend to not know anything about it, you know, the way God intended. But noooo! I have to take it on the chin and be gracious.

My reasons are a nasty mix of a conservative Baptist upbringing, fortified with a side of respectability politics and a little classism hiding up under my far left-leaning, sex-positive politics. I come from generations of clergy and this feels like the last shred of my own upbringing that I haven’t abandoned. No, bring yourself right home.

She both understands and doesn’t understand, and I totally get that. I’m considering letting her stay out on New Year… Which just sounds lame. Of course, she would stay out at New Years. Duh!

Anyway, we start talking about her adulting plans, and frankly, this is where my brain hurt.

Hope: I mean, I’m practically independent now. I pay my car note and my phone bill.

Me: *jaw drops* Um, the house costs money. I pay for your car insurance. Food?

Hope: Oh right, I need to figure out how to sign up for food stamps.

Wait, what?

This continued until I whispered, ‘Why do you want to be poor when you don’t have to be?’

Look I’ve already admitted to being bougie and sometimes classist… Back to my story…

Long story short, there’s so much she didn’t and doesn’t know that she was parroting things she heard around the way. Bless her heart, it doesn’t seem like she had so much as googled anything related to moving.

So we are starting an email thread where she can ask me questions about what it takes to move out. I suggested email because I don’t trust us not to follow communication rules in person. That said, our mutual self-control in this conversation was damn near Olympic-worthy.

So we are working towards independence in 2023. Ironically, this concept, this path, is literally what triggered our chaos seven months ago.

Yeah, really. Smh.


K E Garland

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