David:
My wife – and hence our entire family – went through a serious bout with breast
cancer two years ago. It came as quite a shock, although a gene mutation,
previously unknown to us and which carries a high risk for the disease, is
apparently common within her family. We became instant breast cancer treatment
experts (although I wouldn’t ask us for medical advice) and developed even more
expertise on the vagaries of the American health care system. She, and we,
survived two rounds of chemotherapy, a double mastectomy, insertion and removal
of a Mediport (that I, with the black humor that became common in our house,
joked was useful for pouring grain alcohol into her system along with the chemo
regimen), had a hysterectomy and ovaries removed (the gene carries a very high
risk of ovarian cancer). She lost her hair twice. We experienced CATscans,
biopsies, MRIs, PETscans, blood draws, tests for genetic markers and a wig that
lasted all of three days.
Not to be undone, not four months after my wife’s episode came to a close, I
suffered a major heart attack, died and came back. Pinch me, I’m still here! We
are both survivors, for which we are thankful, and doing fine (it’s all
relative), but we’d both by lying if we asserted that these traumatic
experiences did not exact a serious toll on our psyches.
There is so much trauma in the world. There is trauma of war and that bred by
war and of civil strife. There is trauma born of poverty and starvation. There
is trauma of disease, some of it striking quickly and some of it slowly
debilitating.
There are natural and, sometimes, not-so-natural disasters – those that are
exacerbated by unthinking human action. There are tsunamis and tornados and
flash floods and earthquakes that arrive without any warning, with dire impacts
on towns, cities and nations. There are other such disasters in the making, such
as hurricanes or melting ice floes on the Red River, that we get to watch
approach with dread days or weeks in advance.
If we are fortunate enough to have avoided these, there is often trauma
closer to home. There is the death of loved ones – grandparents, parents, uncles
and aunts, siblings, close friends or even, for some, just beloved pets. Dear
friends move away or we find ourselves in such circumstances that we are forced
to move. We lose jobs, income status changes, access to health care becomes
tenuous. Houses are foreclosed upon. Around us, there is domestic violence,
alcohol or drug abuse, or just the plain witness of degradation in the way
once-loving couples sometimes speak to or of each other.
There are totally unexpected automobile accidents, sometimes our fault and
sometimes not, and in addition to our injuries or those of others, we find
ourselves ridden with guilt, shame and/or anger, not in any particular order.
And then there is the long slide of ageing.
Most of these are also experienced by children, either directly or
indirectly. It is estimated that roughly forty percent of U.S. children will
have at least one potentially traumatizing experience by age eighteen – the
death of a parent or sibling, ongoing physical abuse and/or neglect, sexual
abuse or the experience of a serious accident, natural disaster or domestic
violence or other violent crime. At any given time, it is estimated that more
than eight million U.S. children suffer from serious diagnosable, trauma-related
psychiatric problems.
It is a testimony to the resilience of the human spirit that so many of us,
children and adults alike, manage to weather the storms, though often with
significant scarring. It has sometimes crossed my mind that our society’s
inability to deal creatively with major social issues – from war to poverty to
ecological devastation – stems from our collective incapacity to think straight
because of the impacts of past injuries and insults to . . .
To read the rest of
this article,
subscribe to Natural Life's digital edition,
which includes access to this and other back issues.
David Albert is a homeschooling father, writer and speaker. He is
the author of a number of books, including “And the Skylark Sings with Me,”
“Homeschooling and the Voyage of Self-Discovery” and “Have Fun. Learn Stuff.
Grow. Homeschooling and the Curriculum of Love.” He lives, works and writes in
Olympia, Washington. Visit David’s website and purchase his books at
www.skylarksings.com.
Joyce Reed is the parent of five successful home educated college
grads. She served for 14 years as Associate Dean of The College at Brown
University where she reached out to homeschooled teens. After retiring, she
began consulting with primarily international and homeschooling families seeking
to attend college. Visit her website at
www.CollegeGoals.com.