As I pulled up to work in my beat up Honda, I glanced into my rearview mirror and wiped the tears out of my eyes. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that it’s just work. I’d get through the day just like I got through every other.
I was about 26 years old and had been working in an inclusive program serving the autism community for about five years. And I loved it. I worked with an incredible team of professionals where I got to use my brain, my brawn, and my heart.
Behavioral education was my passion. I was really good at my job and truly felt like what I did had an impact. I was making a difference in the lives of my students and it felt good. I witnessed growth that was nothing short of miraculous, and saw children dramatically increase their independence. It was truly amazing... But sometimes things didn’t go so well.
There were children whose behavior put them in harm’s way. There was self-injury and aggression. There was countless physical restraints and failed behavior intervention plans. At times it was scary. And hard... And heartbreaking… And over time I began to fall apart.
It just got to be too difficult to handle. My students meant everything to me. And the time and effort that was put into helping them had so much value. But one can only give so much before they start asking, “What about me?”
Did it matter that working day in and day out with children who tested my mental, emotional, and physical strength was wearing on me? Did it matter that it was getting so hard on me that my hair was starting to fall out? That I couldn’t eat? Or sleep? That I’d cry in my car everyday on my way to and from work? Or that I could barely afford my rent or my car payment on my salary? What about me? What about my wants and needs? Don’t those matter too?
I was so incredibly tired.
But I kept muscling through. For four more long years… I’m not actually even sure how I did it. But I did.
And then I became a mama.
In the blink of an eye everything changed. My sweet baby girl taught me all about unconditional love and the many joys and struggles of motherhood. My whole perspective shifted. And my way of viewing my students altered overnight.
I was used to observing and analyzing my students in relation to the external world. I’d take data, plot graphs, and help to implement intervention plans in an effort to help my students cope, in what for them was oftentimes a very difficult world.
But suddenly I found myself viewing my students with brand new eyes.
What about how their lives make them feel? What about how the world feels in relation to them? And what about their families?
My God. I can’t even tell you how many days I’d get home from work and just sit on my couch and cry. I finally understood something that had been missing from the equation. The piece of the puzzle that actually matters most.
Their hearts.
You see, in the world of Applied Behavior Analysis, we observe, measure, and analyze everything. But how does one measure the weight residing on one’s heart? Especially if the person isn’t able to communicate? We’d consider if they felt sick, or tired, or if their medication had changed. But when it came to creating interventions for these little human beings, we never really considered their internal emotional state.
Maybe they’re just angry. Or scared. Or completely and utterly heart broken.
Big sigh.
It became quite clear that I could no longer continue the way I had for nearly a decade. The time had come for me to forge a new path. So I quit… And never looked back.
About a year after the arrival of my second child I was really needing a change. Motherhood was less glamorous than I had envisioned, and I struggled with my mental health. I felt completely lost and alone, and had no idea what to do next. I knew I was meant to work with children and families, but was entirely unsure how.
I fumbled through life for a few years, completely unsure of where I was going. I was a stay at home mom for a while, opened a family daycare, became a children's yoga instructor, and opened a children's yoga studio. But none felt right, and things were just as hard as they had always been.
But through it all, I was learning, expanding, and quietly healing, and eventually Reap & Sow Children's Center was born.
My own parenting journey and professional endeavors taught me the incredible healing power of play. I chose an alternative school for my kids where they get to learn through play, and I shifted in my professional life from working with children to playing with them. And with time and a whole lot of dedication, incredible shifts have happened for the families of the children we serve.
That's the power of co-regulation through play.
It helps us teach love by modeling love. It gifts us the opportunity to express kindness, respect, compassion and peace. And helps our children heal their little hearts by helping us open ours. That’s Reap & Sow Children's Center. We're a community of families who honor our children through play, so that they can embody all the amazing things that they truly are.
I'm honored to have you here on this incredible journey with me.
Interested in joining our community? Fill out our interest form here and we will contact you for a call or a tour.
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