Life as a parent and the unexpected challenges

I would not have believed it either, but this is my story; it happened to me. This is one of those stories that is emotionally challenging, a bit absurd, and equally inspiring. I hope upon reading this, you feel just a little lighter, a little more hopeful, and more grounded in the present moment, as you just never know what the future will bring.

It was Valentine’s Day of 2008.

I had agreed to volunteer for my son’s field trip to Science World in Vancouver. As a single mom living on Vancouver Island, I had to organize the ferry to the mainland and a logistics plan for the care of my daughter and dog (who were coming with us). Thankfully, my divorced parents, who live in Vancouver, agreed to a tag team shift to care for my daughter and the dog.

The plan was in place, my father had picked up my daughter, and the dog remained in the car. All of a sudden, before the field trip fully began, a text arrived from my father. My daughter, who struggles with transitions, refused to get out of the car upon arriving at my father’s house. Believe it or not.

So, there I was supervising twenty children at Science World and advising my father on how to manage my daughter’s meltdown in his driveway.

My advice reflected a question I return to again and again as a parent and in my work with parents.

Is it life-threatening or morally wrong?

This question, coined by parenting expert Barbara Colorosa, is one of those powerful questions that help us reflect and redefine our actions. If the answer is “no,” it is worth pausing to ask whether our insistence is about our child’s well-being or our own discomfort.

“Just leave her in the car,” I told him. “It’s safely parked in the driveway. Open the windows, bring her something to eat, and let her be.”

A child’s emotional safety matters more than rigid compliance. Forcing a child out of what Daniel Siegel calls their window of tolerance, in the name of routine or compliance, ruptures the bond of care and prioritizes our need for control at the expense of our child’s authentic self.

The tag team with my mother and the second shift went smoothly. My daughter and the dog were now at my mother’s house. There was time to relax and enjoy Science World and the Gift Shop. I could hardly believe it.

Gift shops are often filled with unique products that I do not need but cannot resist buying. Believe it or not, the Science World gift shop was no exception. Forty dollars was spent (a significant amount in 2008 and likely closer to eighty dollars today) on two sets of Karma Coaching Cards, one for adults and another for children. The purchase was justified to my son, telling him, “ It’s a bit pricey, but they can add to our dinner gratitude activity,” which we often did; he rolled his eyes. I did not care.

The field trip was ending, and we headed back to the car, but as I got closer, I noticed something was wrong. The older model car has a visible lock on the door, one that pulls up and down, and it was up.

Had my mother forgotten to lock the door when she picked up the dog?

I opened the car. Stale cigarette smoke hit me first. Then I looked at the passenger floor.

My briefcase was open. My laptop was gone.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it, our car was broken into,” I screamed to my son, who was beside me.

A police officer happened to be parked nearby. I approached, explained what had happened, and asked if they had seen anyone. They had not.

I thought, “What good are you?” but that was my inside voice; my outside voice thanked her and accepted her card.

In the car with my son, as I drove to my mother, my unrelentless anger resulted in a stream of profanities interspersed with a list of files that were on my now stolen computer-the confidential Ministry of Health documents, my dissertation, years of research, and photos of my children in Disneyland. I had never backed up my files, because in fifteen years of travelling with a laptop across Africa, nothing like this had ever happened to me.

I would not have believed it, but it happened to me.

I also blamed the Kama Cards, as they had not necessarily given me the best Karma.

Then, in the midst of my rant, I heard a quiet voice from the back seat.

“Mom, please stop swearing, it is going to be ok, nobody died.”

My inside voice, though, who the @#$% taught you optimism!

But I knew who did. And I knew he was right.

I stopped swearing.

The next day, I visited the local pawn shops. No computer was found. I bought a new laptop within 48 hours, because I needed to keep working. This, on top of the Karma cards, really was beyond my daily budget.

The kids, the dog, and I returned to our home on Vancouver Island. Once home, the card the policewoman gave me was placedon the fridge to remind myself to follow up.

There were many sleepless nights grieving the pictures, the work that was precious to me, and the items that evoked historically important memories. Emails were sent to friends asking them to send me any photos or files I had sent them to salvage some of my losses. I beat myself up for not backing up my files. I bought an external hard drive and scheduled back-ups.

I kept going. I did whatever I could to relieve my sense of loss and disappointment in myself.

This is what active coping looks like in real life. It is not glamorous.

About a month later, an envelope arrived in the mail. The return address read Office Depot.

Inside were two floppy discs. There was no note.

I didn’t know who they were from, but I had recently ordered software and had a good antivirus program, so I loaded them onto my computer. What opened on the screen were the files from my stolen computer, the photos, the dissertation drafts, years of academic papers, everything.

I went straight to the fridge to retrieve the police officer’s card and called to ask whether they had recovered my laptop.

They had not.

“Oh my goodness, I said, “Those Karma Cards worked.”

The officer asked what I meant. I said, Oh, nothing, thank you for your time.

Someone, the thief, has sent back all my data. I won’t of believe this, but it happened to me

I am not sure what the thief really knew about resilience or what prompted this gesture of kindness. But that envelope shifted something in me that was bigger than the recovered files; it was a renewed sense of goodness in the world.

In my work as a psychotherapist, I work with people who have lost faith in goodness. Part of what we do together is reflect on the unexpected goodness in their lives. This is not intended to minimize hardship or adversity, but to restore a sense of possibilities. To savour these moments of possibility and bring these feelings into the present moment.

Unexpected negative events deplete our resilience. They disrupt our sense of safety, predictability, and sense of control. But unexpected positive events, the ones we could not imagine, do the opposite. They restore our sense of resilience. They expand our perspectives and our window of hope.

Life is full of unexpected events that require psychological and emotional adjustment. Some of them are almost unbelievable; they challenge previous ways of thinking and force us to confront realities we could not anticipate.

Don’t ever stop believing. The possible is possible.

And don’t forget to back up your data on your computer.

I would love to know about an unexpected moment of goodness that shifted something in you. Please share it in the comments below and increase your ability to savour the moment. I can’t wait to read it.

If you would like to know more about my work, please check out my psychotherapy page. If you would like to learn more about resilience, my book might interest you.