My New Year's Day Pralines

I generally cringe at the term "self-care".  Yet I also know that in my line of work, burnout is a very real occupational hazard.  Those of us who work regularly with refugees and other survivors of trauma often experience something called "secondary" or "vicarious" traumatization. Even though we may never have had a traumatic experience ourselves, just listening to so many stories of loss and suffering can lead us to experience some of the effects of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.  And because secondary traumatization is a slow, cumulative process, it can sometimes be hard to detect until it's too late and the stress has already burnt you up to a crackily crisp. 


To reduce secondary traumatization, we are advised to follow the ABCs:  Awareness, Balance and Connection.  The thing about it is that these are actually good principles to follow to reduce the stress that we all have in our lives.  Remembering the ABCs has been particularly helpful to me in performing my other job - caregiver of three children.  Parenting is long term, stressful work; I know from experience that I am better able to to that work if I invest the time in taking care of myself as well.  Here's a brief introduction to the ABCs:


Awareness:  This means paying attention to yourself and how you are feeling.  It means acknowledging that you are not Superwoman (or whatever) and that it is OK not to be perfect.  It means identifying the signs and symptoms of stress in your life.  There is a long list of symptoms of PTSD and secondary traumatization, but I will give only a few examples of the ones I have identified in myself.  

• Nightmares/sleep disturbance. For me, weird nightmarish dreams are the number one sign that I need to back off at work. I call it the Richard Pryor stress test. The first time I recognized this symptom was when I had a nightmare that Richard Pryor was chasing me around with a hypodermic needle, bugging out his eyes and saying "I'm gonna get you!  I'm gonna get you! I'm gonna get you!" (picture that for a moment -if you dare).  I woke up heart pounding and on the verge of screaming, but also with the crystal clear realization that I needed to take a break from doing so many asylum interview intakes. 
• Preoccupation with safety of self and loved ones.  I am constantly and compulsively locking the front and back doors at our house when we are at home. I receive much mockery from the other household residents about this, but it just seems too easy for some baddie to walk right in.  
• Sensitivity to violence.  I absolutely cannot watch violent movies anymore.  Unless, ironically, it is about human rights.  I guess the professional side kicks in or something. 
• Difficulty managing emotions/strong emotional response.  I cry like a baby at movies now.  I went through half a box of Kleenex during the opening sequence of UP, but even stupid (both sappy stupid and just plain stupid) movies make me cry.  Music also makes me tear up but only when it is live and either classical or church music.  When people say nice things about me or my family, I just lose it.  The weird thing is that I usually don't even feel sad.  I just can't stop the waterworks.  So my coping strategy is to always wear waterproof mascara and carry a pursepack of tissues. 

Balance:  This means taking care of yourself by doing activities that provide what YOU need to be at your best mentally, physically and spiritually.  Generally, this means finding a balance of activities in your personal and work life that provide you with the opportunity to rest, play and physically or mentally escape from the stress.  It's hard sometimes, with kids around, to find that balance but sometimes you just have to do it.  That's exactly what I did on January 1, 2011.


On New Year's Day, I had a bunch of overtired, bored and cranky kids hanging on me.  So I decided to make pralines.  Not necessarily logical, but I felt that it was appropriate to start off the new year doing something that I had never done before.  It's true - I had never made pralines before!  Even though I spent the first 18 years of my life in south Louisiana.  Even though, for more than 20 years, I have owned a cookbook by the American Sugar Cane League that includes an entire section on praline recipes.  I decided that I wanted to make pralines that day, so I opened up that cookbook. There were more than 20 praline recipes made with essentially the same 5 or 6 ingredients.  I understand why now, because I ended up fiddling with the ratio of brown sugar to white sugar to come up with my very own pralines recipe.  The pralines I made (with some "assistance" from my sons) turned out great.  Most importantly, they made me really happy.  Making these New Year's Day Pralines was something that I did for myself alone, putting some balance in what had originally had all the makings of a crappy day.  


Connection:  It is so important to have supportive relationships with friends, family, and community in your life. It is also important to communicate with others about your experiences, so that's what I'm doing now.  My New Year's Day Pralines recipe follows - enjoy a little "self-care"!

NEW YEAR'S DAY PRALINES

1 1/4 cup brown sugar (packed)                   1/4 cup butter

3/4 cup white sugar                                      2 cups pecans

1/2 cup evaporated milk                               1 teaspoon vanilla

Mix first five ingredients and bring to a boil on medium heat.  Let boil 3 to 5 minutes.  Add vanilla.  Remove from heat.  Beat with wooden spoon one minute (no more).  Spoon onto waxed paper.  If it gets too hard, return to heat and melt again.  Let cool and enjoy!

Same and Different

Each February, my kids' schools have special programming for National African American Parent Involvement Day.  The activities are different every year, but in 2008 there was a parent-led component that involved reading the class a book and facilitating a classroom discussion about diversity.  I signed up to be the parent volunteer in Simon's kindergarten and Sevrin's second grade class.  I had a great picture book (by no less than Kermit the Frog!) about children's rights that I had picked up at the UN bookstore years before; my kids liked it, so their classmates probably would.  Easy peasy, right?  But that's where, brakes squealing, I slammed head-on into a solid brick wall. 


I just had no idea how to facilitate the discussion or talk about human rights in a way that was simple enough for them to understand.  Fortunately, I got some help from people who are smarter than me about things like this - teachers.  You could never in a million years get a lawyer to summarize an argument in just three words, but teachers can and do.  Thanks to my sons' classroom teachers and Kathy Seipp from our Education Program, the theme for my parent-led discussion was "Same and Different".  


In February 2008, I had just returned from Liberia, a West African country emerging from more than a decade of violent conflict. I picked a few photos of people and scenes from Liberia and had them blown up and mounted on foam core.  The plan was that I would hold up a photo and have the kids point out what they saw in the picture that was the same in their lives and what was different.   


It was really and truly amazing to hear what the kids had to say.  But before I tell you, take a look at the picture and think about what you see that is the same and different from your own life: 

photo by Dulce Foster

Here are some of the things the kids said:  "I like that bracelet."  "I sometimes wear my hair in braids, too." "They have dark skin and I have white skin."  "We have different trees here, like conifers."  "We have snow here right now."  "Is that corn growing behind them?  Because I LOVE to eat corn, too."  "Is that a house? It's not like my house."  "You couldn't live in that house in Minnesota.  You would get too cold."


Here is another one:  

photo by Dulce Foster

"I think they are brothers and sisters who love each other."  "I think they are cousins.  I love my cousins, too."  "It must be very hot there. We can only wear clothes like that in summer."  "Do they have seasons?" "Hey! I have flip flops just like that!"

One more time:

street scene in Monrovia, 2008

"How do they carry those big things on their heads?  We can't do that!"  "There is a lot of trash on the street."  "We have that same blue cooler.  We take it with us when we go camping." "We have windows, too, but there is no glass in their windows."  "They have electric wires like we do."  "That's so funny that they are using the wheelbarrows to carry things.  We only use our wheelbarrow in the garden."


Each picture offered many more opportunities to talk about "same and different" than I had imagined.  For example, "I have flip flops just like that" (same) but those may be the only pair of shoes the kid owns (different).  The "no glass in the windows" comment led to a discussion of mosquitos (same) and malaria (different).  They do have power lines like us, but there is no electricity running through them.  At the time, only a  tiny area of Monrovia had electric power; the rest of the country relied on generator power - at best.  I told them about seeing the the dozens of kids huddled around the bases of the 5 or 6 working streetlights in Monrovia, doing their homework.  "Just like Abraham Lincoln," breathed one particularly precocious second grader. 

The book I read is called For Every Child, A Better World.  It's a UN Publication/Muppet Press collaboration which is now out of print but you can still find used copies online. If you follow the link  For Every Child, A Better World, you'll see the format:  "Every child needs food to eat, but sometimes there isn't enough to go around."  I've done this "Same and Different" presentation several times now in kindergarten, 1st and 2nd grade classrooms. Every time, I walk away surprised by how these very young kids are able to understand and express the concept of basic human rights.  If they get it so completely, what is wrong with us adults?


Simon's kindergarten teacher, however, really took the "Same and Different" theme to the next level.  For several weeks, she incorporated "Same and Different" into various classroom activities, including one assignment to draw and write about something that they thought that every child needs.  She sent me copies of all of the drawings so I'll end with a few.  Of course, my favorite is the one I posted at the top of this blog entry: "Every child needs peace."  

You Really Can't Make This Stuff Up - Part II

In our office, we have a mantra: "You have to laugh or else you would cry."   Maybe working in the field of human rights exposes us to more situations where crazy and ridiculous things happen, but my hunch is - probably not.  All you have to do is read the newspaper (how about that woman who tried to mail a puppy?) or watch an episode of  "The Office" to come to a different conclusion.  The common element here is that we are all humans.  We can all be petty and mean and make a big deal about things that seem to be critically important to us at the time, but which, in the grand scheme of things, don't really matter. We don't always think through the consequences of our actions and we're usually not very self-aware. That means that we cause crazy and ridiculous things to happen in our interactions with each other.  What I've learned - and what I'm trying to teach my kids - is that you can't control what other people do.  But you can control how you handle your reaction to the crazy and ridiculous things that happen to you.  


Let me tell you a story about one of my asylum clients who had to deal with something crazy and ridiculous and totally out of her control.  Asylum seekers are fingerprinted as part of the asylum application process so that the fingerprint can be checked against the millions of fingerprints in the government's electronic database.   After her asylum interview, my client was instructed to put her index finger on small pad to take an electronic fingerprint.  The asylum officer, looking at the computer monitor, got a strange look on her face.   “Try it again,” she instructed.   My client did so.  “You have to look at this,” she said to me.   

I could see that my client was getting more and more nervous by the second.  She was an older woman from a country in West Africa.   She had a valid asylum claim, but it wasn’t the strongest case in the world.  To be granted asylum in the U.S., you have to show that you have suffered past persecution or have a well-founded fear of persecution on the basis of race, religion, nationality, political opinion, or social group.   That definition comes from the 1950 Refugee Convention, and it reflects the experience of World War II rather than the modern experience of conflict.  The biggest problem I saw when I was doing asylum work was not that people were coming to the U.S. and fraudulently applying for asylum.   The biggest problem was that there were a lot of people who had experienced persecution but couldn’t show why there was a connection to one of the five grounds.  In other words, if you were a victim of random violence in a war in your home country, that isn't enough to get you asylum in the U.S.  We had worked hard to put together a case for my client that showed that the killing of her family and the burning of her home was connected to her tribe (social group) being targeted by one of the fighting factions.  She had testified honestly and well.  And now, from her perspective, she was going to be denied the safety of staying in the U.S. because of something completely out of her control.  Something was wrong with her fingerprint.  

My client and I went around to the other side of the desk and looked at the computer screen.   There was the digital image of a fingerprint.  Right next to it was a photograph of a young, surly-looking man.  Under the photo was a caption that said,  “Guatemalan Recidivist”.   The asylum officer and I looked at each other, paused, and then just burst out laughing.   My client didn’t laugh, though.  “But that’s not me!” she insisted.   “No, of course not,” said the asylum officer.  “But that’s not me!” my client said again.   “It’s picking up only part of your fingerprint and matching you with the Guatemalan guy,” said the asylum officer.  “Sometimes that happens, especially if you’ve got dry skin.  I’ll get you some lotion and we’ll try again.”  My client looked relieved.  “OK, because if there is one thing I know, it is that I am NOT from Guatemala.”  As I was driving her back to her house, I told my client, "Sometimes you have to laugh about these things or else you would cry."  Maybe I said it before that day, but that is the first time I remember saying it.  

As a coping strategy, humor has come in handy for me when dealing with the absurdities of parenthood.  It's probably safe to say that having a sense of humor about the crazy and ridiculous things my children have done has saved my sanity.  I'll close with a few examples of situations where I had to laugh or else I would cry.  


This photo of my ruined front lawn was selected for the "Sh*t My Kids Ruined" book.  I couldn't find a photo that was high enough resolution for the publishers, so I'm not sure that it will be included.  

I posted this photo on Facebook a couple weeks ago with the caption "Sometimes I'm not sure how I'm gonna make it through the next 9 winters."

Finally, here is a video of my family in Olso, shortly after we had to leave the Nobel Peace Prize Center because my children were fighting too much.  It's going to come in handy if one of them ever wins the Nobel Peace Prize.

You really can't make this stuff up!