The Hero's Journey 2.0
Many professionals that work with teens and young adults are familiar with Joseph Campbell’s , “The Hero’s Journey.” If you are not familiar with it, it is worth your time and personal reflection. I know a pivotal moment in my life was talking with someone about the Hero’s Journey ; they referenced how “the call to adventure” happens when we have been climbing a ladder to realize it was against the wrong wall. Wow! That was such a moment of clarity for me at the time.
For those of you that are familiar, and I am simplifying greatly, we get a “call to adventure,” we cross the threshold into something new/different/difficult, we learn things about ourselves and discover something that changes our lives and then we return home with those new discoveries. This also describes the treatment journey for many families—the hope is that through crossing the threshold into the treatment process, individuals will learn things about themselves that will allow them to reunite at home together, changed.
Since learning about the Hero’s Journey, I have discussed it countless times with both teens/young adults and also with parents. Teens and young adults seem to really engage with and see themselves within the cycle of the hero’s journey. I find for parents, it is still so very helpful, yet harder for them—they tend to see it via their child’s journey vs where they are at as parents. There is no greater call to adventure in my opinion than raising a child through challenging times. As a parent & family coach at Elevate, I witness so many parents express all the values and behavior they want to teach their teen/young adult, but usually pause when I ask them what values and behaviors is your teen/young adult trying to teach you. Often we might not realize that some acting out behaviors with our kids can often times be our ‘call to adventure’ as parents. Sometimes the call to adventure is noticing not just how often my child is on technology, but also starting to notice how often I am on technology around them. This is just one of many ways that the Hero’s Journey can offer something special to parents.
So what is the Hero’s Journey 2.0? People will often ask after one goes through the cycle of the journey, ‘what is next?’ Some will say the cycle merely continues again and again in other areas of one’s life. As lovely as that sounds, I have experienced families going through what I call a Hero’s Journey 2.0 experience. In supporting families over the past 4 years in the transition to home, I see there is so much more than just ‘returning home’. Even many stories and movies end with ‘they lived happily ever after’. If anything, it has been my experience that returning home is where the story actually starts!
Let us imagine for a moment a teen/young adult struggling with substance use. Treatment can do so many things to help them learn how to address the substance use and develop a recovery & relapse prevention plan. As important as those processes are, the unexpected running into your dealer or realizing your bedroom or car or bathroom has a huge memory correlated to using substances, can be unanticipated triggers that require a new investment in personal growth . The same can be true for teens/young adults with depressive episodes/self-harm and anxiety/OCD. Often times, social situations for teens/young adults with neurodiversity can be nearly impossible to navigate, especially because even the best social tools practiced in treatment can be challenging to enact in the real world.. As you can begin to see, the insights to treatment and the hero’s journey really hits a 2.0 experience when they are asked to do these things at home.
So what can we learn about the Hero’s Journey 2.0? Knowing that there are going to be a lot of expected and unexpected challenges upon returning home, and after a plan/home agreement to address the expected areas of challenge have been completed, it is helpful to focus less on the details and more on the skills for handling the unexpected—skills for both parents and their teens/young adults. The skills of 1) asking for help, 2) courage to redo/repair, and 3) learning how to adapt, improvise, or overcome, can really make the difference in the success in the return home. At Elevate, we are consistently encouraging these skills and many more so that teens/young adults and their families will learn to do these things on their own. It is helpful to know that if I hit an unexpected difficulty that it is OK and encouraged to ask for help, that my family and friends will have some grace with me to redo or repair a poor interaction on my part—without it leading to shame or defensiveness, or that I have the ability to adapt and modify the skills needed to fit the particular situation.
This can also be so true for parents in this process as well. Parents knowing when to reach out for help, naming it with their teen/young adult when they ‘don’t get it right’ and try again, or for parents to know when to listen longer or when to modify a consequence so that it can be more effective or meaningful. With parents and the teen/young adult each having their specialized coach, we can make sure the skills and abilities mentioned above can be taught, practiced, and celebrated for all family members.
The return home can sound like such an easy part to the Hero’s Journey, but in reality, the family system will benefit as much if not more, to have support during this crucial time to ensure the discoveries made in treatment can be applied appropriately for the situations at home, and that additional skills and abilities can be supported as well.
Reflections on our inaugural Parent Retreat for Adoptive Mothers, by Sarah Hutchison
With eyes closed, I can hear the sharp inhales followed by the fast exhales of the “bellows breathe.” This is called the bhastrika breath. It is used to energize and inspire mental clarity. I sit in a circle with three other women who are warriors at home. This weekend they have put the responsibilities of meal preparation, curfew enforcement and chore assignments aside. The tension falling out of their bodies with each breath feels palpable. I wonder what stories lie behind the breaths they have been waiting to take.
These women are warriors this weekend. They have come to the Mothers of Adoptees Retreat weekend because they know that if they share their stories with each other, it will be the same story in many ways. Somehow too, they will have enough marked differences in each other’s chapters to develop even more wisdom, even more courage and most importantly - hope. This is the word that would become the banner over each of their experiences when these women left to return home three days later.
Hope.
These women are mothers of adopted children. Mothers that many years ago agreed to invite the supervision and close scrutiny of social workers, agencies and domestic and foreign governments into their home. These entities would write long reports about their potential fitness to parent a child. These mothers waited by their phones to hear from the adoption agency about another child being born that could perhaps be their child, depending on whether or not the birth mother chose to move forward and relinquish her parental rights. They waited patiently for her decision. They were not sure if they should feel hopeful or guarded. It was hard to sleep. They went to the hospital to hold the baby, just in case.
These mothers said yes to early diagnoses of neurological disorders, in utero substance use and developmental delays in the paperwork. They spent years finding the right tutors, peer support groups, medication regimens and learning communities. They understood that these elements consistently change and that at any point, major life events might happen that could become a storm for their once peaceful child. Their families are just as vulnerable to the sudden death of a beloved grandparent, a divorce or a pandemic as any of the rest of us. The difference is the pandora’s box of developmental trauma that these events open up in the hearts of their children.
As the adoptive mother, they remain front and center as the safest person to work out the deepest pain coming out of this pandora’s box. The deepest pain looks like their child turning off location functions on their phone and running away for several days. It looks like hearing their child say, “You will never be my mother. I wish you never adopted me.” It looks like nights laying awake beside their children to monitor for any gestures of self-harm… until they cannot do it anymore. At that point, it looks like treatment centers or wilderness therapy programs. It looks like finding anyone that can help their child heal safely and come back home. It looks like them blaming themselves for their children having to leave home and wondering if this is just one more abandonment. If it is, they wonder how their child will ever be able to trust them or anyone else again.
They are here this weekend. They are sitting by our first evening fire together. Tonight, they set their intentions. Tomorrow night, they trace their ancestry and discuss how they came to understand mothering in their own families of origin. The final night, they share the story of their adopted child’s birth mother. They weave together the sorrows and joys of mothers all around them to tell a story of how they have learned to love their child, and themselves. They create art. They hike together. They cry and laugh together. They do morning yoga. They eat fresh meals. They sleep and sink deeply into the wisdom that to have what it takes for the next stretch, they have to learn to nourish themselves.
Transitioning from the Wild: A Multi-Layered Culture Shock, by Ashley E. Brown, LCSW, CADC III
Returning home from a wilderness program can be a jarring and complex time for teenagers and young adults. It is a returning, often exhausted, from an intense and life-changing sprint towards health and healing to something much slower, changed, and abstract. In order to reconnect and attune to your child during this time, it’s important to deepen understanding about what this can look and feel like from their perspective. Cindy Ross, a backpacker, thru hiker of the Pacific Crest Trail, and author describes the sensation, "Returning home is the most difficult part of long-distance hiking. You have grown outside the puzzle and your piece no longer fits." In this post, I’ll share more about what your child might be experiencing as well as offer a few ideas around how to support them through this tricky time.
Transition is jarring.
This transition from the wild to home, is marked by stark contrasts regarding sensory intake, nutrition and sleep cycles, and the presence of choices. Students returning from the wilderness often experience significant sensory overwhelm. They have grown accustomed to the crickets, rain, and the same 10 people’s voices. They return to check-out lines, lockers slamming in school hallways full of people, and movie theaters. Take a moment of silence to take in the sights, sounds, smells, and sensations around you. Not only are they likely different than wilderness sounds, but they are louder, stronger, more intense, and happening all at once. Parents can support their child by planning slower, quieter transition activities. Think card game versus movie theater. Dinner at home or in the hotel versus a restaurant. A smaller local shop versus Walmart.
Students often find it easy to fall asleep and sleep deeply in the wilderness. Without access to electricity or a headlamp, students quickly settle into a circadian rhythm. They experience consistent movement and exercise. Students wind down from the day with community circles or stories told by staff rather than their phones blue light buzz. While the transition home often comes with elements that would seemingly encourage good sleep - a temperature controlled bedroom and a tempurpedic bed - the circadian rhythm, movement, exercise, and wind down routine are not immediately available to them. To help ease the transition, parents can encourage waking up at the same time every day (even the weekends). They can offer to go on a hike or walk, play a VR game, or get them plugged into a gym nearby. It can also feel helpful to set times when your phone switches to a warmer-toned night mode and put them away an hour before bedtime.
Students’ digestive tracts become adjusted to healthy, consistent nutrition with a blend of vegetables, protein, and carbohydrates. There are rarely overly greasy or processed sugary foods. In addition, without distractions, students often become more attuned to their bodys’ signals and eat closer to the amount that is needed. So, as you can imagine, the digestive tract is in for a rude awakening when greasy, sugary, or even different foods are reintroduced, as well as the distraction of phones, tv shows, and diet culture advertising. A “first meal” consisting of specifically what your child has been craving is unavoidable. But, parents can ask their child to cook their favorite wilderness meal together and incorporate their favorite wilderness foods into their day-even a simple educational moment to share about impacts of greasy or super-sugary foods on the digestive tract can go along way. Personally, I like to lead a round of “would you rather” - spend time in the bathroom or out enjoying the “real world”.
And then there is the reintroduction of so many choices. Students in the wilderness experience simple, routine days where many things remain consistent and given. Clothing, gear, and meals remain the same. Students know what days they’ll be hiking, when staff will change, and when their therapist visits. There is a predictable and consistent routine to every day. From the moment of waking up, students typically know what they need to do, how quickly they should get it done, and rewards and consequences if tasks aren’t accomplished. Imagine all the choices that reenter the equation with a return home. What will I wear today? What will I eat? Which show will I watch? What picture will I post? Which filter should I use? Life is suddenly all choices, all the time. Parents can work with their child to create little parts of the day or week that remain consistent and even that mirror wilderness routines. Sunday is spaghetti night. Tuesday is Grey’s Anatomy night. Try helping them develop a night and morning routine.
Transition is emotionally complex.
Students often experience confusing ambivalence as they leave their wilderness experience. On one hand, they are thrilled to take a shower, eat the aforementioned hamburger and milkshake, and check their social media. Alternately, many students have developed some of the deepest, most authentic, vulnerable, silly relationships to date. With the return home, they’ve moved from a head-up, real life, “I see you” and “I’ve been there too” community to head-down, 2-D, 15 second surface-level relationships. In the wilderness, they’ve become leaders in their group. They’ve mastered fire and backcountry camping. They may not have this established sense of success and respect in the real world. Students are excited to return home and reconnect with friends but anxious about reputations that may have developed while away. Students have learned skills that have helped, but now must begin to translate their newly acquired skills to the real world. Coping skills learned in wilderness that became second-nature are not always easily replicable and take some figuring out. Communication skills once done at a snail mail pace happen in-person, in real time, and can feel confusing and overwhelming. Sometimes, it’s just awkward sitting across from your parents after having been so vulnerable or disclosing big information in letters. One of the best approaches parents can take as their child is processing all of these complex emotions is to simply listen, hold space, and let them set the pace. Silence is okay. Talking non-stop about inside jokes you really don’t get is also okay. Sad is okay. Elated is okay. Wanting space is okay. Wanting to cuddle is okay. Wanting to gripe and complain about the experience is okay. Wanting to bowdrill in the backyard and take you camping is okay.
Most of all, transition is a step forward; It’s getting reacquainted after the most incredible, intense, incomparable experience. It’s learning who your child is now and showing them who you are. It’s moving forward with more knowledge and just as much love and as always, doing the best you can with what you have.
The Balancing Act of Being a Good Enough Parent, by Lisa Brown, LCMHC, LCAS, BCC
Donald Winnicott, a leader in attachment theory and research, coined the term “good enough mother” to help alleviate the parenting pressure to be perfect for our children. This pressure to be perfect, causes issues for both the parent and child as explained by Carla Naumburg in the article entitled, “The Gift of the Good Enough Mother,” Good enough parenting involves meeting enough of the child’s attachment needs by caring for basic physical and emotional needs in order to create a pure environment of safety and love. When we can do this for our children they are able to better tolerate and forgive our very human imperfections.
Throughout the past 7 years of supporting families and coaching parents during moments of crisis and the complexities of relationship with their children, adolescents, and young adults, I continue to come back to the idea of what it means to be good enough. I’ve built a career helping parents navigate heartbreaking moments in raising their children such as failure-to- launch patterns in emerging adults, addiction challenges, and robust mental health struggles. As a witness to these hardships, I’ve been constantly reminded of my sphere of influence in raising my own children. The term good enough mother offers me a lot of comfort while raising a 2.5 year old prone to big emotions in a world that is constantly changing. Giving myself permission to be good enough, affords me grace when I lose my patience, yell, or breakdown in my own tears right alongside his toddler emotions. Good enough offers me a goal for parenting that feels attainable. What exactly is good enough parenting? Dr. Dan Siegel, another leader in attachment theory research, asserts the importance of balancing nurture and structure, ideally in a 50/50 ratio. I believe this balancing act is the key to being a good enough parent and creating an environment of safety and love for our children regardless of their age.
Structure means the rhythm, routine and boundaries we set in our households and lives that help our children know how to exist within our home and in relationship to us. When done well, this can help create predictability and safety for our children as well as teach them how to participate in healthy relationships outside of the family system. As parents, it’s important that we clearly establish our limits, household rules, and consequences so that our children know what is expected and the outcome if those boundaries are violated. The structure part of the balancing act is what helps establish safety for our children. When we know where the fence is and can trust that it’s sturdy, we are free to explore everything inside the fence without fear.
Nurture is the relationally yummy stuff, having equal importance to structure.. This is the connection we inherently have with our children by nature of being parents. Throughout time and challenging experiences, we may have felt disconnected and unsure of how to offer nurture to our child, but finding a way to make relational reaches even in the hardest moments is essential to creating an environment of love and emotional safety. This can happen through the tone of our voice and facial expressions, through empathy, playfulness, and curiosity. Through nurture, we have the power to let our children know, “you are valued, you are seen, you are loved”.
The 50/50 balance between nurture and structure is important because too much of an imbalance can result in extreme parenting. Structure without nurture can create an authoritative parenting style resulting in relational disconnects, secrecy, and rebellion. Nurture without structure can result in a co-dependent and enabling relationship that doesn’t encourage our children to develop their own skills, resilience, and independence. Of course we will rarely, if ever, be 100% balanced. We may notice we have a tendency toward more nurture and less structure (I fall into this category) and therefore need to actively introduce more structure into our parenting with intention. Good enough parenting is the practice of finding balance and the dance of noticing when we are out of balance and bringing intention to our interactions with our children to help re-center. It is not an easy dance when you factor in our own stressors, emotions, family of origin stories, and personal wounds. However it is a dance that can allow us to be the secure base that our child needs while facing the challenges of everyday life.