copy/paste

um pouco à pressa, cansada e descansada, preocupada e tranquila, cheia de dias cheios ocupados e desocupados, ainda sem conseguir vir falar convosco na primeira pessoa, responder a comentários e a emails, deixo-vos com este copy/paste ao qual digo "ámen" (adoro resumos bons!)

beijinhos e boa praia-trabalho-viagens-etc

Cipreste

~ ~ ~

Jennifer Lehr

do blog  Muito bem! e outras coisas que não deves dizer ou fazer (a menos que queiras arruinar a vida dos teus filhos)

Want respectful children?

If you want respectful children…

You gotta be respectful to them.

You want your children to listen to you?

You gotta really listen to them.

You want a child who is caring, sensitive and patient?

You gotta be caring, sensitive and patient to them.

You want a resilient child?

You have to let them practice struggling and recovering—with support.

And if you want your child to have impulse control…

you have to have it with them!

As in, don’t lose your cool. And when you make a mistake and respond in ways you wish you hadn’t (which we all inevitably do), you need to make amends—the benefits of which are numerous: 1) Your children will see you as fallible and thus human, 2) they’ll know you truly care about their feelings and 3) you’ll be modeling remorse and humility.

And just because you do treat them with respect and compassion, doesn’t mean they will transform their behavior overnight.

Patience, repetition and predictability are key.

da boca dos outros (listas!)

An Adoptee’s Perspective: 10 Things Adoptive Parents Should Know

1. Adoption is not possible without loss. Losing one’s birth parents is the most traumatic form of loss a child can experience. That loss will always be a part of me. It will shape who I am and will have an effect on my relationships—especially my relationship with you.

2. Love isn’t enough in adoption, but it certainly makes a difference. Tell me every day that I am loved—especially on the days when I am not particularly lovable.

3. Show me—through your words and your actions—that you are willing to weather any storm with me. I have a difficult time trusting people, due to the losses I have experienced in my life. Show me that I can trust you. Keep your word. I need to know that you are a safe person in my life, and that you will be there when I need you and when I don’t need you.

4. I will always worry that you will abandon me, no matter how often you tell me or show me otherwise. The mindset that “people who love me will leave me” has been instilled in me and will forever be a part of me. I may push you away to protect myself from the pain of loss. No matter what I say or do to push you away, I need you to fight like crazy to show me that you aren’t going anywhere and will never give up on me.

5. Even though society says it is PC to be color-blind, I need you to know that race matters. My race will always be a part of me, and society will always see me by the color of my skin (no matter how hard they try to convince me otherwise). I need you to help me learn about my race and culture of origin, because it’s important to me. Members of my race and culture of origin may reject me because I’m not “black enough” or “Asian enough”, but if you help arm me with pride in who I am and the tools to cope, it will be okay. I don’t look like you, but you are my parent and I need you to tell me—through your words and your actions—that it’s okay to be different. I have experienced many losses in my life. Please don’t allow the losses of my race and culture of origin to be among them.

6. I need you to be my advocate. There will be people in our family, our school, our church, our community, our medical clinic, etc. who don’t understand adoption and my special needs. I need you to help educate them about adoption and special needs, and I need to know that you have my back. Ask me questions in front of them to show them that my voice matters.

7. At some point during our adoption journey, I may ask about or want to search for my birth family. You may tell me that being blood related doesn’t matter, but not having that kind of connection to someone has left a void in my life. You will always be my family and you will always be my parent. If I ask about or search for my birth family, it doesn’t mean I love you any less. I need you to know that living my life without knowledge of my birth family has been like working on a puzzle with missing pieces. Knowing about my birth family may help me feel more complete.

8. Please don’t expect me to be grateful for having been adopted. I endured a tremendous loss before becoming a part of your family. I don’t want to live with the message that “you saved me and I should be grateful” hanging over my head. Adoption is about forming forever families—it shouldn’t be about “saving” children.

9. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. I may need help in coping with the losses I have experienced and other issues related to adoption. It’s okay and completely normal. If the adoption journey becomes overwhelming for you, it’s important for you to seek help, as well. Join support groups and meet other families who have adopted. This may require you to go out of your comfort zone, but it will be worth it. Make the time and effort to search for and be in the company of parents and children/youth who understand adoption and understand the issues. These opportunities will help normalize and validate what we are going through.

10. Adoption is different for everyone. Please don’t compare me to other adoptees. Rather, listen to their experiences and develop ways in which you can better support me and my needs. Please respect me as an individual and honor my adoption journey as my own. I need you to always keep an open mind and an open heart with regard to adoption. Our adoption journey will never end, and no matter how bumpy the road may be and regardless of where it may lead, the fact that we traveled this road together, will make all the difference.

(música para ritos de passagem)

O momento sem retorno. Saber que vamos cair, saber que nos levantaremos. 

 the minor fall, the major lift

 

Cipreste

(música para ritos de passagem)

O momento em que percebemos que uma luta passa a ser um luto. 

 For now 

 Leaving point despair 

Leaving point hope 

 Getting lost to find a way back home 

Getting back by letting go

 

Cipreste

Quem vê caras, não vê corações.

Diz um daqueles memes partilhados nos murais das redes sociais que a partilha da nossa história é uma obrigação. Que, quando nos assumimos e revelamos as nossas histórias, nos estamos a curar e a ajudar outros a fazê-lo. Ora, não sou assim tão ambiciosa.

Antes de mais, há muito tempo que deixei de pensar que tenho de me curar da minha história, ela é o que é, não vale a pena imaginar máquinas do tempo. nunca me vou curar dos meus arrependimentos, porque são isso mesmo: arrependimentos. Eu cometi erros e esses erros tiveram consequências nas vidas de outras pessoas. E na minha. Oh céus, e na minha vida.

Cipreste

Flickr / kjohansen

não fugi

OH INFERTILITY!

Um blog em língua inglesa, a convite de uma amiga de infância.

Vou deixando os posts à medida que saem.

RUN AWAY

I have not.

Well, let’s say that in a certain way I did run, as one is just letting it be. It has been exactly four months since my IVF treatment was interrupted and I was back to the good ol’ pain of infertility in its whole shape of inability and helplessness.

So I let time go by (a little). I invented a few full-time hobbies.

Now it is time to stop and feel it all again. As soon as my next period is here my dearest is calling the nurse and I’m back to injecting my tummy. And I’m looking forward for it.

If it is true that we learn lessons, the one that I’m always acknowledging is that we do have to give things their time.

Four months ago I was devastated, both by my bio-reality and bad practice reality. I could hardly breathe without exercising not to cry. I had to struggle not to fall into my bed and stay there.

But I was not alone, I was not suffering alone.

There was my love and he was also suffering, this was something new for him. He has a son. He desires to have a child with me. He heard my stories about the past, but he had no idea how much it could hurt. And there I was aching twice, for us.

And time: Three months ago we had Christmas and all the availability it takes. Two months ago I started all the craziness around organizing a poetry festival in my city. It happened last weekend, from Thursday to Sunday. It was a great success and so on.

Now it is time for courage, again. And as soon as we made our call to the biologist today it all came back: the desire to keep all the healthy habits and that feeling of the heart filling with hope.

That’s what I meant about giving things their time. One month ago, if you had asked me about my treatments, I’d probably tell you I wasn’t very much into it, and was even considering a longer break. And I would have meant it.

We gave it time. And we are back.

Now starting a baby-step (like the irony of the expression?) process in which we may fail mid–way through our journey. But there is no other way to build our story. That’s what we believe in today, so that’s what we are doing today.

And now, a poem:


Respectful repetition

You draw overlapped rocks.
You animate infertility
On the drought of the metaphor’s tyranny.

From the portuguese

A respeitosa repetição

Desenhas pedras sobrepostas.
Na aridez da tirania da metáfora
Animas a infertilidade.

Paulo Azevedo



Cipreste