Jazz Blog: The Joy Of Smells

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The joy of smells but it can mack me fell fuck up.

My fav smell is mummy bear and it makes me fell that every thing is going to be okay and I’m safe. when my sport workers come I no when they coming by their smell. so say like when Kat gets hear and say I’m in my room I will smell her and that smell makes me very very existed and makes me fell happy and giddy and like I’m going to wet my self out of giddiness. if Kris’s here and I smell her and that makes me fell giddy and all so makes me fell very safe. when Andi is here that give me flash backs to when he use to hold me as a kid. When clads here that makes me fell all cute and I no then that clads is here and that means that it’s okay and I fell like I’m loved. say if u put sum think over my eyes so I cart see I will Abel to smell who is next to me and if they change the smell of that person I rally don’t like it because it makes me fell like they are not the person I no and not familiar and I don’t no them but my brain is saying u do but my nose isn’t And it brushes me off and makes me fell angry and that they don’t love me or kear about me. My smell makes me fell safe and sum time cross because I sum times get so existed I wet my self and that give me flash back from bean a baby. if mum says who’s is the top or jumper etc I will say who it belongs to. Even when I only no them for 10 mins I get attached to there smell in seconds and I like to share my stuff with them because when they have gone I put it on and it macks me fell safe and it reasores me that they are still here even tho u cart see them. if they go on holiday I won’t wash my jumper or what eaver they have toch because there smell go starte on to it and I no that seams mad but that’s what macks me fell safe.
I’m bloody mad lol
😳😳😳😳😳

 

Matched

imageBeing part of an online community of people involved in adoption is a great thing. It gives the opportunity to hear lots of different experiences and points of view.
Through Twitter and The Adoption Social I have enjoyed communicating with people who are at the beginning of the process, being assessed, going to panel and being matched.
The moment when you have been matched but have not yet met the person who is going to feature in your life forever is an extraordinary experience. Unless you’ve been there it’s hard to describe very easily.
When attempting to sort through my terrible piles of paperwork this week I found a diary entry from a few months before Jazz’s placement with me.
I’m glad I recorded events by writing, filming and doing photographs. I have also encouraged Jazz to do the same. It reminds both of us of where we were, have been and are now.
Below is a diary entry from the year I met Jazz:

 

Lizard Point, Cornwall 1999

It is a typical English Summer evening, fresh and bright and showery. The bed is down as usual in Lily, my white camper van, and my toes feel great amongst the fluffiness of the fake fur blankets.

I love festivals and this one is extra special. The impending solar eclipse and the near dawning of a new millennium combines to add an air of excitement to what would otherwise be a fairly usual gathering.

Then I think of her…oh my God!….My child.

Five years old and she has never met me. An intake of breath and an adrenalin rush hard to decipher. Was it fear or excitement? I reach into my bag and then into another velvet bag within it that holds my diary and keeps the loose tatty pages from falling into disarray. Tucked inside is a photo of her. She smiles out at me, a lovely smile, cocktail umbrellas in her hair. The photo has all the signs and symbols of happiness but it saddens me.

Im here planning to grab at my last chance of no child freedom fully aware that very soon my life changes forever. I wonder what she is doing, knowing nothing of me even though I will become her mother within the next four months.
Mine will be the tenth strange house in which she has laid down her head. An average of a move every five months of her short five years.
Different smells. Different sounds. Different food. Different rules. Over stimulation and under achievement.

They tell me she is a bit wild. Good, I think, you didn’t manage to de-claw her then. I don’t say that though. During a year of social services interrogation I learnt to keep up an appearance of calm openness. “How terrible” I replied. They say she will not sit still long enough to watch television. Good, I thought, because it’s all lies anyway and I like watching the weather. I responded with “That’s ok I’m quite active.” I’m not really though. I like to find a spot and sit and ponder. If it happens to be next to an open fire then even better.

I lean over and slide open the van door. The fire pit is still glowing with red embers and I can hear the faint rumblings of festival fun in the background. I consider a walk to find my friends but lay back down. The sun is going down and I think of home. I am about five years old and sitting on the edge of the kitchen table. My mum has a lovely smile on her face and is dancing around me singing along to “Downtown” on the radio.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Developing Community Awareness As A Charity

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In the process of developing our charity The Open Nest over the past eighteen months we have had to consider what our longterm aims and intentions are to be. What did good adoption support to families in crisis mean to us as a group of trustees?
We knew it meant many obvious things like therapeutic input, expert school support and regular short breaks, but we also knew that adoptees and adopters first needed true acknowledgement of their stories in order to be offered the correct support.

My immediate research focus a year ago, having survived a near adoption breakdown and the intense parenting of a child with severe attachment disorder and developmental delay, was to raise awareness. I had felt so isolated and stuck in a cycle of seeking non existent help. I wanted to speak out and find a way as a charity to tell ours and others stories.

I had watched and got frustrated over fifteen years at how little some of the big players in adoption policy forming and support had achieved in giving families such as ours a valid voice. A voice that wasn’t hidden in consultation rooms, select committees, university research papers or the odd shock horror ‘violent adopted child injures poor parent’ feature.

As a minority group being acknowledged at all, even if a bit behind the scenes, is better than nothing. But then sometimes it’s not. Sometimes the denial of the whole truth of your existence makes things a lot worse. It means our stories are stifled and unable to become normalised enough to be accepted in the mainstream community. The effects of this is that well meaning folk who are teaching, practicing medicine, doing social work and doing our assessments, can’t recognise what attachment and trauma stuff, looks, feels and sounds like. Well meaning ignorance can be dangerous. It leads to adopters being perceived as failing or to blame for their child’s struggles. This in turn makes seeking help from professionals fraught and very unhelpful for either side. The adoptees basic human rights to support are often completely lost in this structural failure.

It’s not easy to describe supporting a child with serious anxiety and mental health issues around loss and fear. Some of it is ugly and scary and profoundly sad. As parents we can sometimes present as negative and irritable. This is because we are doing an intensive care job without a managed structure of support or supervision and mostly without a break. We are often scared. If you listen carefully and for long enough to hear us properly through the strains of pent up desperation, you will hear something important to modern adoption in the UK.
Many of us are filled with love, commitment and fierce protection of our children. Despite the difficulties we are inspired and improved by our children and their will to want to succeed. We are the ones most aware of the potential within our children (and sometimes their birth families) if given the right support. As such, it is heartbreaking not seeing your child thrive and your plans for nurturing them turn into basic survival and damage limitation.

I have spoken to lots of struggling adoptive parents over this last year and there is a theme that runs through the very individual and different stories. The parents want the best for their children whom they love but are seriously frightened that without the correct help they may lose them. The irony of their children facing the potential loss of two families in their childhoods is not lost on them. These particular thoughts used to keep me awake at night paralysed with fear. During those times I often thought of my daughters mother and realised something we may have in common. Struggling within our family to the extent we think social services might come and take our child away from our home and family rather than fully and meaningfully support us. I often wondered how that would be explained to my child when she was grown up:

“Your first family were not able to keep you safe. Your emotional and developmental needs were not being met. We tried everything to help them but they could not accept or work with our interventions and were not cooperative. We removed you for your own safety under child protection guidelines.
Then your second family were not able to keep you safe. Your emotional and developmental needs were not being met. We tried everything to help them but they could not accept or work with our interventions and were not cooperative. We removed you for your own safety under child protection guidelines.”

Knowing her as I do, she would definitely blame herself. She’s super bright despite the labels attached to get her through the system. She understands systems and complexity. But as default she ultimately blames herself when she can’t see the honest responsible adult.

I would of course have explained to her in detail that it was certainly not her fault. I would answer the many “why”? questions and find myself blaming the social services or the government or her mother or culture or society, or our family, or a mixture of them all which I guess is about near the truth.

So with all that in mind our first works as a charity have been aimed at awareness raising. For adoption support to be relevant, effective and empathic it takes adoptive families who struggle to share information with both policy makers but also importantly to support charities and a wider society.

We plan to use the mediums of film, written word, spoken word, photography, animation and artwork to tell our stories in a way that is fresh, new and accessible to all. Some of our productions are hard hitting in the sense that they address difficult truths but they are also dignified, positive, without blame and delivered with great hope for change. Slowly but surely.

We welcome all families and individuals touched by adoption to contact us if they wish to work with us on any of our future projects. We are currently accepting ideas, photographs, films and artworks on themes of loss/trauma for our travelling exhibition ‘Severance’ which is booked to be shown in The University of Sunderland Art Gallery in September 2014 and then at Family Futures in London in November 2014. We are also negotiating future bookings in Leeds and Newcastle.

For further information please email us at info@theopennest.co.uk