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Laying Foundations - Seven

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The big event we were preparing for almost from the start of wilderness therapy was the workshop  midway through our daughter’s stay.  Much emphasis was placed on this one encounter although I couldn’t imagine how a one-day workshop could make that much difference.  We had little idea about what we would actually do, only that we would be working with another family.  Maybe I can demystify it a little for you. 

On workshop day, we, the two sets of parents, met at the central offices of the program. We were joined by the parent therapist (to whom we had only spoken on the telephone) and after a short meeting as a group, we drove over to meet with our children.  When we arrived our children were brought by staff to the small cottage where we would spend the day together. 

Although we had begun exchanging letters, we hadn’t seen or talked to our daughter in six weeks, perhaps the longest time with no direct contact in all our lives together. We saw her striding down the hill from their camp bundled in enormous boots, parka, snow pants which made her seem larger and more imposing. Inside, as she stripped off a few layers down to fleeces, I saw that she looked healthy, rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed in a way I hadn’t seen in years.  Best of all, she was as happy to see us as we were to see her.  A bit of normal in this ocean of un-normal.

Here’s what’s funny:  In my journal, I’m oddly reticent about what we actually did all that long day.   Five cryptic, almost undecipherable lines, not even sentences.  On surrounding pages I wrote endless notes and summaries of my thoughts before and after the talks.  I remember sensations--the icy cold of the portapotty, the quiet when taking a walk during a break with the other mother.   We took turns talking about good things and hard things, we did some exercises, we were all given a big sheet of paper and markers to make a drawing.  I can’t recall my own drawing, but I do remember my daughter’s: an devastating image of a little stick figure tumbling down a steep slope.

The next day was just parents and therapist, a debriefing and the workshop was over. 

So what was that workshop all about?

Even now, I’m not entirely sure, but often it’s about showing up and doing your best. and I suspect this workshop is like that.  We all did our best, the other family too.  We showed our daughter that we care (she knows that, really, but her own guilt and shame interfere).  For me, the most significant and reassuring take-away was having seen our daughter; being witness to the fact that she had opened herself up totally and positively to the wilderness experience.  Less happily, but no less importantly the fear and despair conveyed by that tiny tumbling figure in her drawing stays with me too.

For me then, the point of that day was seeing the hard, serious work my daughter was engaged in.  The contrasting images of the tumbling stick-figure and the glowing, energized person at the workshop helped me gather my own energy and courage to start contemplating and planning what would be the best next step for us, as a family, to take after wilderness.   

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