hold on

H. has been doing great in school, though it definitely tells on him as the day wears on. He has been melting a bit earlier and more often, lots of teary whining when he feels tired and spent. I've been using holding time now and again, which has helped our relationship a lot, I think. It's definitely NOT something I look forward to doing, nor do I do it as much as recommended in the book. I have to have the energy for it, he being so strong and able to cry for such long stretches.

What I've noticed is that H. is MUCH more physically affectionate towards me than before, and more apt to come to me for comfort when he's tired or upset. Our connection has improved quite a bit, and for that I am grateful. Also, MY attitude towards him has changed and improved. I find I am much more patient with him than before, and am able to feel true compassion for him. This may sound harsh, but sometimes when he was in one of his more defiant moods, I had a hard time finding any compassion inside me. Having been consistently rejected by him since the beginning obviously affected my ability to WANT to be closer to him.

The whole process is very interesting -- it allows me to look at my own feelings about being his mother more clearly -- While I am holding him so tightly, and as he is rejecting me (physically and emotionally -- this is an important part of holding time, for those of you unfamiliar), our physical closeness allows me to really see this vulnerable, sad and confused little boy. I knew this intellectually -- I knew he was a little boy who had lost so much, was acting out because of his past trauma. But I couldn't feel it.

I take yoga, and most of the instructors are Anusara yogis. They constantly tell us "open your heart." I'm always pushing and pulling my shoulders, arching my upper back, tucking my tailbone, wondering if I'm getting any closer to "opening my heart." My husband and I would joke about it -- "Alex, for the love of God, open your heart!" They are talking about a physical as well as an emotional opening, I realize. But I think I might be closer to getting it. When I'm holding Habtam so tightly, heart to heart like that, my heart is pried open. Sometimes I don't say anything, sometimes I talk about an issue that may have preceded the holding -- teasing Lire, not listening to Mom and Dad. Sometimes I cry a little bit. I'm scared often when I'm in the middle of it.

At the end of holding, H. doesn't want me to let go. If I let go too early, thinking we are done, he will sob until I hold him again, though at this point it's a gentle, regular embrace, because he's no longer fighting. Sometimes I have to carry him for a while like a baby (not easy, this guy weighs 44 pounds). Sometimes Lire comes and hugs and kisses us both.

It's a weird thing for which I am grateful, yet don't relish. It's hard for me, and for H. He's started asking me to do it, and recommending it for Lire, too. I guess we have to expose the wounds inside of us to the fresh air now and again, and that's what holding time feels like for me. Not unlike when I began my recuperation 5 or so years ago. Painful and slow, but a tiny bit of daring to hope for sunnier days.

Comments

[leisa]

Thanks for this post. I have read nothing about holding time yet, but a couple of years ago I began doing this with Noah, just by instinct really. He would thrash against me while I held on for dear life, rocking and speaking in a gentle voice, it would take a long time for him to calm down and then yes he would not want me to let go. I just felt a change in him, it felt like our bond was cracking and the holding was all I could think of to do. Sometimes we do really have to trust our instincts and hold on tight.

[Lisa]

Hi Erin,
I do yoga,too--and was doing "heart opening" during (jivamuki) class recently when the teachers words (which I now don't remember) sunk in and in the middle of all the chaos that is adoption of 2 kids, I suddenly felt all MY feelings coming up from somewhere deep inside and I just started crying during yoga. It was really weird and intense, but I realized that all of my efforts to take care of their feelings of (I always imagine) pain and hurt are maybe burying my own feelings which are building up to an extraordinary level (only to be revealed in the middle of jivamuki yoga class?)