A DISH OF CRUNCHY NOODLES
Tonight, after 2.5 years of living here, my oldest son sat down at the table with a dish of uncooked noodles, straight out of the packet, hard and crunchy.
He was about to chow down when I stopped him and asked what in the world he was doing.
He
said, ‘I made myself dinner.’
‘But
it isn’t cooked. I can cook that, you know.’
‘Well,
I wanted to eat something I used to eat a lot with my old family.’
So,
we sat down and I asked him to tell me about it.
He
said that they wouldn’t feed him due to being passed out (you can guess why)
and he would have to make dinner for himself and his brothers (ages 2 and 4
months when they came to us).
He
said that all the money they had would be spent on cigarettes and other ‘fun
things’ and so he would find change in their van and buy Ramen packets at the
store down the street, at 6 years old!
He
said he didn’t know how to boil water, so he would eat it like this. And, he
actually grew to like it.
So, he would break it up for his siblings, and would try to make bottles for the baby (at 6!!!!!!).
I
asked him to make me some.
I
sat there beside him and crunched it down with lots of water because it’s not
great…and he just started talking about how the first time I made them Ramen,
he wouldn’t eat it and I told him I remembered.
He said it’s because it reminded him of his Ramen packets and he didn’t trust me (big thoughts for 9!).
He said he isn’t sad he’s not with his ‘old family’ (his words) anymore, but that sometimes HE LIKES TO REMEMBER HOW STRONG HE HAD TO BE.
I
write this so everyone knows trauma isn’t healed quickly (sometimes never), and
adoption doesn’t erase the past or the memories.
Kids
can change, and they will change with love, but please never give up on a kid
because ‘they are hard.’
I
walked away in shock, in sadness, and so so so proud of how strong my baby is.
He’s so wonderful. And, we love him so much.
Friends,
THIS is the life experience of kids who come from hard places.
THIS
is living a trauma-informed life.
We
can’t imagine what kids from hard places have lived through. It is not just
about one act of abuse or neglect, it is about living in survival mode and
doing it day in and day out.
It
is about making sure younger siblings are also surviving, even at the expense
of childhood.
Trauma
infuses itself into every pore. Kids just don’t forget it. Their brains and
bodies won’t let them.
Those
of us privileged enough (yes, I said privileged) to enter into the lives of
children with hard life experiences must be willing to sit down, eat uncooked
Ramen noodles, and listen. We must not give up.
Our
kids didn’t.
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