Children in a War Emigration
Part 1
Today marks 24 days since we arrived in Warsaw.
In the first few days, I had so little energy that I barely paid attention to how my children were doing. I noticed that they played and argued as usual. And for that, I was thankful.
During the first two weeks, I observed a slight increase in their roughness and aggression. Episodes of quarrels, fights, and tantrums became more frequent, and the lack of physical activity only exacerbated the situation.
But overall, it was within the bounds of normal behavior.
Friends who had also fled with children reported similar experiences: their kids had become more aggressive too. However, this didn’t bring any comfort.
When the boys started school, things got a bit easier.
Socializing, interacting, and the care shown by the Polish community slightly eased their self-isolation and focus on their own space. They saw that life, teachers, and responsibilities exist in this new country too.
For the first few days of adapting to school, they almost stopped fighting.
My background in psychology kept reminding me that my sons’ seemingly normal behavior was just a surface, and I might be missing the hidden processes occurring in their minds.
I wasn’t wrong.
Last week (two weeks after starting school), my younger son, Platon, had a nervous breakdown.
We were getting ready for school one morning. Platon, already dressed and standing by the door, suddenly collapsed to the floor, screaming as he tore off his sneakers. When I asked him what was wrong, he yelled that there were rocks in his shoes.
I should mention that my kids, in general, are loud and restless. They often fight and argue. People tell me this is normal for boys. And I’ve learned to manage it. We usually resolve things quickly, and I often feel like a referee in a boxing ring.
But this time was different.
Mornings are when I have the most energy and patience. So I calmly helped Platon take off his sneakers. I showed him that there were no rocks. He sniffled, agreed, and put them back on. A minute later, it happened again — he tore off the sneakers, shouting that his socks were wrinkled and something was bothering him. We changed socks, put the shoes back on, and the situation repeated itself two more times. We went through three pairs of socks. Eventually, Platon calmed down little by little, and we left for school. On the way, he sniffled, but I felt the situation was stabilizing.
When we got to school, he opened his locker to change, and the meltdown started again — he screamed loudly, tore off his sneakers, and cried that there were rocks in them. Other kids and parents were around, and all I could do was hold him in my arms, hug him, and sit with him until he stopped crying.
He didn’t go to school that day. I sent his older brother, Danya, to class and took Platon home. His face was swollen and red from crying, he kept sniffing, and his breathing was irregular for about an hour.
At home, I urgently canceled all work commitments, put away my gadgets, wrapped Platon in a soft blanket, and hugged him. We sat like that for about 40 minutes in silence. I made warm, sweet tea. Later, when he felt ready, I suggested we flip through a large cookbook we had in the apartment. We looked at pictures, studied recipes, and reminisced about our favorite dishes. Afterward, he wanted to read some of the books I had on my Kindle.
Another hour passed this way. Then Platon started acting like himself again. I got him ready, and we went for a walk. We stopped by a local pastry shop and ate some desserts.
I wrote to our family doctor in Kyiv, who prescribed us sedatives. Our Polish family recommended a psychological center in Warsaw. I called, but at the time, there were no English-speaking specialists available.
It’s been a little over a week since that breakdown. I watch Platon closely now, and as soon as I notice him becoming anxious, I immediately hold him until he feels ready to move away on his own.
For now, this is the only thing that helps.
This week, my older son, Danya, ran from the school.
To be continued...
March 26, 2022.