Author: Kayla

When I was in my second year at university someone brought us this huge tin of baked beans. It was beyond massive, 3kg or something of baked beans in this colossal tin. It was so big no one wanted to open it. It had so many baked beans in it, once the tin was open, no one knew what we would do with them, how we would eat them, or how we would organise and store them. So the tin sat unopened in the cupboard of our grubby Wellington flat. It was carefully tucked away and it didn’t bother anyone, sitting nicely in storage for the duration of the year.

Recently I thought back to this tin of baked beans, and to what might have happened if we decided to open the tin. Now, after some recent events, I think I might know how that may have unfolded.

As many parents of children with allergies will agree, that this diagnosis comes with some degree of trauma. Whether this is a traumatic flash back to a horrible allergic reaction – witnessing instant hives & swelling take over your child’s body or face, vomiting repeatedly until limp and lethargic, a trip to the hospital while breaking the speed limit, or worse yet in an ambulance or helicopter! Or sometimes it’s a flashback to moments in time – weeks of rubbing creams on inflamed, red itchy skin and soothing a child who lives constantly in pain, on the inside, or outside. While we are living in these moments our bodies go into fight or flight, we just want to get through each minute, or each day.

But when the dust settles down, what do we do? Some of us breakdown, worn thin by the event we finally crumble and find an outlet for the shock, worry, anxiety and trauma. Some express their worry, or grief in the only ways they know how. Some feel gratitude and relief.

But what happens when you live in a state of angst and worry for weeks, or months, or years? As many parents of allergy sufferers do, because often, advocating for these kids isn’t a one time event. Some probably find a regular outlet, a safe person or group to express or share, family to fall on. Some might seek professional help, counselling. Some might delve into self care to negate all the time and energy spent on traumatic events. And some, cant face up to those emotions right now, so they take their experiences, cram them into the worlds biggest can of baked beans and pop them away in the back of the cupboard.

Except there’s one problem. As I mentioned earlier, when when the neglected tin is suddenly discovered, sometime later, no one wants to open the baked bean monstrosity, because if you open such a big tin all at one time you are going to need a fuck load of friends to share it with! And in this day and age we just don’t seem to have ten mates turn up, all on the same day, ready to help us eat a massive portion of baked beans, even if they don’t like them, or weren’t prepared for them before they arrived.

I ‘spose you can probably guess how I dealt with the years of food allergy angst we experienced with Felix. Except the crazy thing is, I didn’t even realise that I tucked those feeling up for safe keeping, because when I popped them away, I replaced them with gratitude, greatfulness and happiness that our journey was making so many positive leaps. I had tucked the tin of baked beans so far back that there was heaps of room in front so I filled the space close to the door with everything great about life, despite all our struggles. And then, there was no place for grief, anxiety or sadness, they made the cupboard messy so they got pushed to the back. (Can anyone else’s linen cupboard relate to this!?) Ive noticed that, as humans, we have come to quite like the look of order and organisation and not so much a big pile of mess out for days or weeks, while we make spaces and sort it back into its places properly.

So, at some point all the well organised feelings at the front of the cupboard are all being used, usually during big changes or life events. Kind of like when you have a new baby. You might find the linen cupboard bare at times as you find time to adjust to life and catch up on all the washing. You also might find your emotional cupboard a little scarce as you pour everything you have into late nights, little sleep, and caring for a little being 24 hours around the clock. In fact, this year when we had our third baby, the cupboard got pretty bare and the old, somewhat rusty can of baked beans sat exposed, naked and glaring out.

At some point, each of us will experience a repeat of some of the events and feelings tucked away in the baked beans can. For me, it was a replay of baby rashes and eczema after something I’d eaten. Even though it was no where near as severe as with Felix it felt like ripping a plaster off an old wound that just won’t heal. When you haven’t properly put the past away, you spiral straight back into the feelings of distress and fear, of hopelessness and knowing the journey that we have to travel all over again. The feelings are tripled, and compounded, even though you are now equipped with experience and knowledge. It doesn’t feel very helpful because there is a huge mess you made two years ago piled underneath all the linen that fell out of the cupboard just now.

While I was very tempted to leave it be, I decided it’s time to open the (metaphorical) can of baked beans. I don’t even like baked beans, not to mention some of them aren’t even gluten free! Anyway they spilled out all over the floor, like everywhere, overflowed and made a huge mess that I wasn’t really prepared for. Each bean is smothered in bitter memories and unpleasant emotions that got sealed up inside and here I am amongst the huge mess trying to find a way to tidy it up. Some days I make a good dent and manage to file away some of the mess nicely and other days the tin tips over and makes a bigger mess than there was before.

The lesson here is, when they are happening (or soon after) feel all the feels. ALL the the feelings, even the real shit ones. Don’t be a Harry the Hero and soldier on. I should have let myself break down and ugly cry, and taken more time to acknowledge that yes, while I was grateful things weren’t worse, they were actually pretty shit. And that’s ok, because life is a bit shit sometimes. If it was good all the time then that would be boring and we probably wouldn’t learn any deep lessons or gain better morals and values. I was so busy trying to live life like an inspirational quote, I forgot to realise that it’s ok to be sad about all this.

I just know that there must be others out there, other parents who have experienced a traumatic situation, which may or may not have been to do with their children’s allergies, that have probably done what I’ve done and shoved their feelings in a great big tin. Perhaps you are yet to discover them, perhaps you have and you totally understand where I’m coming from right now (I’d love to hear how you tidied up the mess?) or maybe you are in the middle of the discovery of stale old feelings and ripping plasters from open wounds. Or perhaps you are in the eye of the storm, and I might have just prevented you from dealing with these feelings in three years time, instead of embracing them, right now.

Wherever you’re at, or however you relate just know that you are not alone. It’s ok, ideal even, to feel sad, grief, ripped off, exposed, traumatised. It’s ok to not be strong – sometimes being strong is allowing yourself to hurt and feel pain. And then to seek out support, or let others give you hand to get back up. Be kind to yourself while you sort your feelings out and take time to sort through them and file them away in the best place you can manage. Before continuing on your kick ass way. Now, if you excuse me, I’m off to follow my own advice.

**If you are like me and writing provides a good outlet for expressing and organising your feelings, I’d love to hear your story. I’m thinking of opening a page on my blog, a place for you to share your story to help and inspire others, and let them know that there is hope on the other side.