The universal journey from anger to repair, and how as schools we can support all who travel it's path .
I flooded the kitchen ceiling on Sunday night. The brand new (well, a year old) kitchen of my wildest dreams, kitchen. It was after the Euro finals, and I did as I usually do and went to run a bath. I -as usual - didn’t stay in the bathroom, instead came downstairs to potter about, make a brew to have in the bath, and select the candle scent I wanted to enjoy as I relaxed in the deep suds. (Yes, I’m more than a little bougie).
Well, I guess the adrenaline cocktail of seeing the National men's side lose another final, and my daughter's delight as the final whistle confirmed she had won the sweepstake at work, got the better of me. (Menopause may also have had a part to play, but I’m still working on admitting to brain-fog) . Instead of going back up into the bathroom I went and sat back down in front of the telly and completely forgot my bath, until a weird 'is it raining?' sound coming from the kitchen alerted me.
I rushed into the kitchen, to see a waterfall coming from one of the spotlights in the ceiling. The floor was awash. I quickly got the largest saucepan in the house under the flow. My husband was upstairs trying to unplug the bath, but the water was too hot. I went up and, in my panic, plunged my arm in and yanked the plug out, before going back down and setting to with the mop trying to get the water up. I didn’t feel the scalding until much later.
As I mopped and my husband stood silently observing the wet patches as they appeared in the plastering on the ceiling and along the main beam, I found myself babbling like a child who realises they are in real trouble. The excuses came thick and fast.
'There must be hair clogging the overflow (our daughter) has just had a bath before me. She can't clean it out cos of her EDS’.
'How can it have filled so quickly; I only did what I normally do?'
'I'm so sorry, it doesn’t look that bad.'
'What do you reckon?
'What do you reckon??? I am so sorry!'
'It seems to have stopped now. The plastering is still intact....'
'Yep, I’ll just get this mopped up. it'll be ok’.
'Oh no there's a bit over up there! How has it got that far?'
Nothing's buckling or coming away. What do you reckon???
He just stood there, looking up at the ceiling.
In that moment, I became aware that I was really struggling to breathe, really struggling to hold back my emotions and remain calm. I scolded myself for mentioning that my daughter had just had a bath and couldnt clear the hair from the overflow, that was unfair blame shifting. Just as I was about to congratulate myself on being so mature, I became aware that actually, I really struggling not to get angry with my husband for not speaking, for not going mad at me. For not externally demonstrating the guilt and anger I felt at myself in that moment. The internal monologue I’d been able to divert from my daughter now had me screaming inside 'You sanctimonious ^%$*&UT!!! will you just shout at me please!!!'
How unfair. How unhinged. How like a child in crisis.
Dante's Divine Comedy is a journey through the 3 states of Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise. looking back on the events of Sunday now, I’m minded that not only is that an accurate allegory for my trauma that night, but also for the process of supporting a child in crisis. The Hell state is obvious. You have done something 'wrong' according to the rules of where you are, or your own or someone else's moral code. You have been caught and you are being 'punished'. You are upset, frustrated, embarrassed, angry, frightened and all the other feelings that nobody in their right mind would choose to be feeling. (Only psychopaths ‘deliberately’ decide to cause trouble, despite what is said in all those wildly emotive incident reports that have been hastily penned by upset staff over the years). It is as clear as day to everyone that you have messed up and your actions are being judged and found wanting. To realise your feelings have caused you to act in a way that makes you hit out, either at a person, and object or yourself, sounds like Hell to me..
The next state is a visit to good old Purgatory. Just like seeing someone you love upset because of your actions stand silently and stare at the ceiling; Purgatory is that sensation of seeking a way out but not having anywhere to go. Purgatory is not being listened to ('Get to your next lesson, I'll deal with you later); Purgatory is not having your needs met (He's just ripped all the displays down, no you cannot 'reward' him by having time with him kicking a ball about to 'cool down'). Purgatory is where nothing gets sorted, there is no 2-way reflection, resolution and learning. Purgatory is a breeding ground for resentment, new negative experiences and broken relationships. Purgatory -like Isolation booths - is immeasurably cruel.
If you are lucky like me and have a person in your life who is warm, caring, understanding and reasonable, your time in Purgatory, though it feels like forever at the time, is actually mercifully short. In a family or personal relationship, they notice your state and immediately set aside their own emotional response in order to help you find balance in your own. They give you a hug and a kiss on the forehead and say 'it's ok, it was a mistake. I was due to give the paintwork a refresh in Spring anyway' and if you’re as lucky as I am, they recognise how important it is for you to mop up and fix things on your own, and go off to make you a fresh brew, get the Oreos out of the cupboard and silently go up and do you a fresh bath. In other words, they guide and support you to your personal Heaven.
Heaven in a school setting will be having the opportunity to re-regulate doing something someone knows you well enough to know will work - be that kicking a ball, colouring a mandala, or just having a brew and chatting about last night's Love Island. It will be checking the welfare of the ‘wronged party’ (be they adult, children or the Year 5 Digimaps display) and making plan for their support out of Purgatory too, It will be knowing that the timeline for getting everyone to their own Heaven is not chronological but is dictated by the needs of the person whose journey there is most arduous. It’s knowing like many experts have told us, notably Paul Dix, Janice Cahill OBE and other published authors who have well and truly walked the walk; that when the adults in the room truly understand that behaviour is a language, and that language is universal; personal growth and cultural change occurs.
It is now Wednesday as I sit in my kitchen and type this. The damp plaster smell has just about abated, and but for 3 or 4 small patches of discolouration, the kitchen looks the same as before Sunday’s drama. I feel ok about it all now; the trauma has faded but the comedy -and learning - still lingers. And I've watched every bath since Sunday like a hawk!
D’you reckon it would be cheeky of me if I asked for the 3-day job of a whole new colour scheme for the Kitchen, rather than truth be told, just the 10-minute touch up it needs????
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