Resilience

Sitting in the sauna with my sister listening to two teenagers witter on about their lives, the rules for dating, boy codes and other incomprehensible subjects I realised that children have the language of dealing with their emotions but still have as little clue about how to actually cope with them as we did. It turns out their friend was, “totally triggered,” when her mate kissed her boyfriend and that even though another friend had slept with every boy at the party that was totally fine because , “she has so much respect for herself.” They all know the word resilience but when life throws a curved ball I wonder how many of them will actually be able to do it.

Resilience is one of the new fads in pop psychology. Schools talk about teaching resilience, even though that concept seems either cruel or impossible. Fans of corporal punishment will argue that people of my age were taught resilience at school. Teachers could stand you in front of the class and hit you for spelling a word wrong. They could throw missiles at you for talking, or send you to the headmaster for a proper thrashing. Oh, how we learnt to survive. Except that I suspect many of us didn’t. Just as how some kids will crumble under the pressure of constant measuring, testing and changing the goalposts that happens now. 

Maybe the lesson in resilience should actually be learning when to give up. I think of myself as a pretty resilient person, which is why my reaction to my mum’s death was such a shock. People who know me argue that I have been resilient (or stubborn) in refusing to let that PTSD thing beat me.  I just think I was lucky that I was able to find the right kind of help.  To get that help, I had to give up a little bit, though.  I couldn't have done it if I had gone back to work after my one week's bereavement leave. 

A report today says the our children are the safest but also the unhappiest. Children’s mental health is reported as the worst it’s ever been with many seeing no point in living but we can’t know that those very same suicidal children wouldn’t be the survivors if they were under threat.  But does that mean we should put people under threat to test them? Is it right to change what's expected of children in exams just to see who will survive?

I grew up in a family of fighters. My father, in particular, had a tough start in life. They were poor in the days before a social security safety net. A jam sandwich for tea was a good day. Both my parents sat with slack-jawed incredulity when anyone talked about the good old post-war days, as for them, they were times of huge struggle. But they survived.

When your parents have died one of the really hard things you have to do is sort through their stuff.  There are memories everywhere.

My mum was an artist and I have recently started the mammoth task of clearing her studio. It is filled with notebooks and sketchbooks that tell of her life, never mind all her artwork.There are inks I remember buying her for Christmas in the year that my Dad wrapped everything in a foot spa box as a joke (it didn’t go down well.), every type of paint you can imagine, and unidentifiable tools. There are books and magazines (dating back to 1972).

I was no good at art. My mum would laugh at my attempts and suggest that I took after Dad, who famously couldn’t even draw a cat. Growing up in a house full of art stuff was useful though. When I was put into a remedial handwriting group in senior school I was so mortified I spent every spare moment teaching myself calligraphy. (I told you I was stubborn) I remember Dad being impressed because as a left-hander who had been forced to write with his right his writing was awful. I remember him having a go but I thought Dad never gave up on anything.  However I found his calligraphy book.  There are times you just need to say :

Knowing you can’t do everything is a kind of resilience of its own.