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Listen to thisOne of the things I like about living in Scotland is the amount of time we’re given for annual leave. Over here, there is a much higher value placed on taking time off work and on going away than in the United States. Part of this might have to do with the climate here, and the lack of light. It can get to you after a while, despite your best efforts.
Over the winter break, I had the good fortune of getting away. As soon as I disembarked from the plane, I was greeted by warm winter sunshine and Tuscany’s heady fragrance. A mixture of wood smoke, olive trees and the particular way the earth smells there. I immediately felt my spirits lift. Despite the exhaustion of the previous few weeks, scrambling to tie things up and meet some deadlines before heading off, and despite having only an hour of sleep the night before, I found myself with a surplus of energy on the evening of our arrival. It was a nice energy, not the kind of restless energy that is fuelled by stress or anxiety. I settled in the veranda and listened to Kind of Blue while watching Orion rise over the hills. Bliss.
And while I gazed at the night sky, just enjoying the simple pleasure of the moment, I began to contemplate why this is normally such a difficult thing for me to do. I started to make all sorts of plans and goals for my time there “more time just listening to music, long walks, time spent writing “and I noticed that this is usually how I start my vacations. It doesn’t take long, however, before my habits reassert themselves and I find myself less present, less energetic, and less appreciative of what’s in front of me. My energy shifts, and even simple things take a bit more effort again. Effortless indulgences renew their gravitational pull, and keeping food, drink and sleep proportionate takes energy as well.
I know it’s all in my attitude towards things, but knowing isn’t enough to keep me in that wonderful place. “Such is life,” I thought to myself, “I'll enjoy it while I can.” This first night of vacation felt like a honeymoon period, a phrase we would use when I was in practice to describe the first few days or weeks of a young person's stay with us. There’s something about a break from one’s own habits and familiar places that can subtly renew hope and a sense of the possible. I imagine this is an ingredient in what we are seeing when young people, who perhaps on paper had difficult or even frightening behaviour, surprise us with friendliness and cooperation.
Of course, the word honeymoon refers to the vacation taken by a newly married couple; it also sometimes refers to that initial month (moon) or period of early marital bliss. I cringe a bit, thinking back on our thoughtless use of the word. Certainly for the vast majority of kids, being ripped from their families of origin or being moved from yet another broken down placement is one of the most painful things that can happen. I feel uneasy with a word, normally associated with celebration, used in this way.
There was also something quite cynical in the way we thought about young people’s honeymoon period. It was as if it wasn’t real or didn’t really count. Perhaps it was our way of remaining on guard for when the real difficulties would emerge. I wonder if we also felt a need to protect ourselves from the natural disappointment of seeing a young person decline. Saleebey (2002) writes about the self-protective scepticism used by professionals in order to protect themselves from being made the fool, and the power of language to create pessimistic expectations. I think there can be an element of this in staff cultures. The way that we think about and talk about young people has insidious potential, when repeated over time, to affect not only how we see them but how they see themselves. It makes me wonder how much the ensuing decline was co-created by adults and young people collectively.
This isn’t to deny the evident pattern of an initial “easier” period when some young people are admitted to a unit; it’s worth remembering, however, that the “easier” is probably “easier for staff”. Ward (2007) describes what he calls admission trauma, a state of shock and loss that many young people experience when they are admitted to a new unit. Loss, separation, anxiety, fear and feelings of powerless, stigmatisation and imposed dependency can all contribute to a young person experiencing admission trauma. What precedes the admission, particularly how involved the young person felt in the decision to be admitted, will have at least as much impact on how that early period is experienced as the way staff receive that young person to the unit. When looking at it from this angle, honeymoon period jars even further.
I’m not suggesting here we censure talk of a honeymoon phase. Instead, I think this initial period of a young person's stay, and the way we think about it, bears some reflection. Perhaps a more thoughtful, sensitive way of speaking about it can naturally follow.
Garfat (2004) offers the replacement term exploration period, highlighting the caution exercised by both staff and young people during the early stages of their stay. He likens the process to a dance, with partners tentatively finding their rhythm with one another. This is useful in reminding us of how normal an initial period of developing relationships is for everyone. It also keeps us mindful that the way we hear “the music” is likely to be different from the way the young person hears it.
I also think exploration is a useful way to think about how a young person might experience herself during that initial period. Breaking from familiar places and day to day habits can interrupt counterproductive internal dialogues, in a way similar to that described by Phelan (2001) when talking about the use of activities. When such an interruption takes place, there is room for a young person to experience herself as competent, likable, happy and (perhaps most importantly) hopeful. Positive, lasting change is almost always gradual, however, and while good care planning can include the repeated use of activities over time, we only get one shot at that initial period with a young person. Powerful early experiences of hope, amongst others, may fortify young people (and ourselves) for the sometimes tough times that follow. So while initial changes in behaviour may not be lasting, and while that initial period may indeed have an unreal quality to it, there is something very real about this early, so-called honeymoon period.
In writing this, I’m reminded of Nathan. Nathan had a lengthy and troubling care history, and his behaviour had become frightening and destructive in his discharging placement. This had been an ongoing pattern for him. During the pre-admission process, we weren’t sure if we could meet his needs, and I had some tense conversations with my senior. The decision was made to admit him, despite our doubts.
Nathan didn’t exhibit the typical wariness of most young persons upon admission. In fact, he tore through the unit like a hurricane, shouting, threatening and shoving. I don’t know for sure, but I probably thought to myself, “Where’s the honeymoon?!” I am sure that it took everything short of physically restraining him to keep him from storming out of the unit to who-knows-where for who-knows-how-long, as was his habit. Something happened, though, in that initial confrontation. I remember compelling Nathan not only to give us a chance to work with him, but to give himself a chance to sort out his life. That chance would require boundaries, limits, hard times and hard work, but also support, warmth and fun. Somehow, I think, all of this was communicated to him. Not so much in words, though we did try, but also in all of the non-verbals “even the close proximity and physical contact (short of force) when we were trying to prevent him from leaving. Those self same boundaries, limits, hard work, warmth, support and even humour were all present in that initial exchange. I think a part of me wanted just to let him go, given my considerable doubts about him being placed with us in the first place. However, I think he and I (and maybe other staff involved) experienced a glimmer of hope in that exchange.
Nathan chose to stay with us and, while we found him consistently challenging, he made significant progress in his ability to form and maintain relationships with adults. He also made significant strides in his education. It would be safe to say that Nathan did not have a honeymoon period (at least in the way we usually think about it), but he did have an intense exploration period. He appeared to be finding out, in his own way, whether ours was a place he could try again.
So what happened to the “honeymoon” in Tuscany?
Well, two days after arriving in that glorious sunshine, my partner and
I both fell flat with a nasty flu. Cosi va.
References
Garfat, T. (2004). New arrivals: Honeymoons and expectations [Electronic Version]. CYC-Online. Retrieved 28 January 2009 from https://www.cyc-net.org/CYC-Online /cycol-1004-honeymoon.html
Phelan, J. (2001). Another look at activities. Journal of Child and Youth Care, 14, 2. pp. 1-7.
Saleebey, D. (2002). The strengths perspective in social work practice, 3rd edition. Boston: Allyn and Bacon.
Ward, W. (2007). Working in group care: Social work and social care in residential and day care settings. 2nd ed. Bristol: The Policy Press.
