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Podcast: in conversation with Hackney Child author Jenny Molloy

NMW Podart1


Jenny Molloy and I worked together at Huddersfield University this week and she kindly offered to speak to me about her life, her books and her work. It was a fascinating conversation.

I’m not fussed about the F-bomb, but for those who are, or who might be listening in the vicinity of little ears, the F-bomb count is 1.

Appropriate Adult

We have a massive bramley apple tree in our garden. This year it is loaded with hundreds and hundreds of apples. We’ve eaten about twenty. The rest fall to the ground where I pick them up, throw them into a wheelbarrow and shovel them into the compost binsTile.

The compost bins are full now. This afternoon I started filling a metric tonne dumpy bag.  It’s tedious, stinky work. I was at it for an hour at least. As I picked up, more apples were falling from the tree. One fell on my head. Another fell on my back.

Today did not turn out quite as I had planned, and at the risk of sounding maudlin, being hit by bramley apples was almost the highpoint. The low point was an unexpected journey to our local centre of law enforcement, uncertain what I was about to walk into.

My personal dumpy bag is full right now and still the relentless shovelling continues. Working outdoors and breathing the thick autumn air is the best way I know of coping, especially as the season changes and I find myself less parent and more appropriate adult.

CAMHS Roundtable – The Dog Shit in the Room

I sometimes get scared before meetings, especially BIG MEETINGS, with LOTS OF PEOPLE, lots of PROFESSIONAL PEOPLE.  And so it was before the CAMHS ’round table’ meeting hosted by DfE yesterday.

There was an anxiety dream.  I was late for the meeting.  I couldn’t find the room it was being held in.  I searched and searched. I found it. I walked in. The only available chair was across an enormous room, packed with people. PROFESSIONAL PEOPLE.

As I made my way across the room, all eyes on me, I smelt a terrible smell. A stink.  I looked down at my shoe.  I had trodden in an enormous dog shit. It was clinging to my shoe in all it’s marvellous turdyness.  There was outrage. Who is this woman dragging in this dog shit?

As Al writes in his blog, we both asked families about how CAMHS could better suit the needs of adopted young people (it was recognised that some vulnerable groups of children and young people, and CAMHS, are not a ‘good fit’).  We were both deluged with responses. And I mean DELUGED.  We spent hours engaging, collecting and collating the response.

We rather nervously presented our work – your work – to thirty people from the fields of mental health, commissioning, research, social care, the voluntary sector and policy making.

We delivered some difficult messages.  We were treated with nothing but respect and what we presented was widely recognised and accepted.   We listened and engaged, because this is a complex area and all of us have a lot to learn from each other.

What Al and I presented would have been nothing without all the help and input we received. Thank you to every single person who took the time to provide experiences, thoughts and ideas.

There are some huge mountains to climb in order to achieve a CAMHS which better meets the needs of all children who have adverse early life experiences, whatever their legal status. This was the first step.  And I’m pleased to report that there was absolutely no sign of dog shit.

The document below is the one I read from at the meeting. A copy has been given to DfE.

CAMHS Round Table – Feedback from Adopters


This is a summary of information gathered informally through engagement with adopters, and some social workers and therapists on social media, private forums and in face-to-face meetings.


  • A presumption of need, rather than the burden of proof falling on families
  • Less restrictive referral criteria
  • Lower and more consistent thresholds to allow for early intervention
  • More willingness to address the needs of a child/YP who is ‘refusing to engage’


  • Better-educated and experienced workforce in the broad range of issues around the impact of adverse early life experiences, and in the differences between adoptive and foster families.
  • Less rigid diagnosis – a strong feeling that children are being forced into narrow definitions. Concern about over-diagnosis of conditions such as ASD and ADHD.
  • A more ‘multi-faceted’, broad approach that does not ‘silo’ too early on. Families reported having to pass through each silo in serial and some had ‘timed out’ of services by the time this had concluded.
  • Important that assessments include genetic and other health considerations such as FASD – ‘it’s not always attachment’.
  • Better appreciation that some parents may present poorly as a result of having lived in crisis for some time.
  • More serious MH diagnoses for under 18s are not given therefore no treatment offered to young people.


  • Appropriate therapeutic parenting courses from an early stage and an end to ‘one size fits all’ behaviourally-based courses.
  • Access to therapeutic parenting coaching.
  • Behavioural interventions were reported to be problematic and unhelpful.
  • Parents keen to be seen as ‘co-therapists’ and given the tools, support and respect to enable them to do this.
  • Welcoming, safe and well thought out settings.
  • Open-ended referrals. A limited set of sessions was seen as detrimental and left families coping with fall out.
  • More cognizance of the impact on families of well-documented behaviours such as violence and anti-social behaviour.
  • ‘Don’t presume my child is telling the truth and I am not’.


  • Trauma and attachment aware.
  • Family and relationship based, focused on understanding the roots of behaviours and building attachments.
  • Non-blaming and empathic.
  • Most favoured therapies – DDP, therapeutic parenting, arts, play and narrative based therapies and equine therapy (particularly for self-regulation and relationship building).
  • Many popular providers, most notably Family Futures, Catchpoint, Integrate Families, Chrysalis and many ex-CAMHS independent providers.


  • Families broadly in favour – as a focus for the development of expertise.
  • Team approach including social care, education, health, police.
  • It could take responsibility for transition in and out of tier 4 services, which is seen as missing.
  • Include parents and carers in governance.
  • Existing CAMHS models are popular, some are no longer in existence (two Clinical Psychologists each reported they had run award-winning services for looked after and adopted children and both had had funding withdrawn, both services had subsequently closed).

Prepared by Sally Donovan, 20 October 2015, with thanks to everyone who provided feedback.

‘She hath done what she could’

I started blogging in 2011.  Behind the protection of a pseudonym I wrote out the mess and glory of our stitched together family.  A lot has changed over four years, mostly as a result of shifts in my thinking around what success means in the context of family, and although I cringe when I read some of the earlier posts, I’m glad I have a record.

These days, writing with such personal honesty is more problematic. It’s not right to expose our family now that Sally Donovan is more than an online identity and so I stick to newsy stuff and my own clumsy efforts at self-care and tea leaf reading.

In the spirit of newsiness it’s been (another) emotionally epic week.  Adolescence is always tough going as neuro-biological changes layer over exam pressures which layer over multiple transitions.  On top of the adolescent mille-feuille is the central question, ‘who am I?’.  When early beginnings are shattered and a young person is raised by people with whom they share no birth bond, the answer to that question is born out of intense and sometimes over-whelming growing pains.

Supporting one’s nearest and dearest through all this has become about demonstrating solidity and dependability during crunch times, and maintaining connection when it’s possible and beneficial (which at times neither are). As always, I make bags of mistakes and try not to be too hard on myself, or those around me.


In the spirit of rather glorious self-care I spent a recent weekend in Cornwall with friends.  We talked and ate and drank and walked in the sunshine and found ourselves in an old coastal churchyard.  I love a churchyard, and I particularly like grave stones.  One, a simple affair for a ‘spinster’ simply gave her name and dates and the epitaph ‘she hath done what she could’.  I thought about how that is the most that any of us can ever do and how much more encouraging that message is  than those which demand we can achieve our wildest dreams, if only we try hard enough.

Royal College of Psychiatrists annual meeting in Brighton

The Royal College of Psychiatrists, faculty of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry, get together every year at their conference. This year it was in Brighton. And I was invited.


Professor Jonathan Green (University of Manchester), John Simmonds OBE (CoramBAAF) and I presented a session entitled ‘What are the needs of Children and Families during and after adoption – and is CAMHS failing to meet them?’. We formed a kind of medical/charity sector/user triangle.

I’ve learnt, when amongst medical people, not to use words such as ‘trauma’ (particularly ‘developmental trauma’), ‘attachment’, ‘dysregulation’, ‘dissociation’, ‘cortisol’, ‘trigger’ and so on. I’ve been told many times either overtly, or by eye-rolling that there are no such things and that my children (and I) should be well over it by now. As a result of one memorable CAMHS consultation I can no longer drive past the building without my stress-levels rocketing.

I ventured into the venue for the conference dinner the night before, with some trepidation. (I was terrified). The first psychiatrist I spoke to, tentatively, talked about ongoing research into pre-natal stress and cortisol levels, someone else talked about how boys and girls might react differently to trauma, then I heard about psychological models for carrying out life story work, ways of working with dysregulated children, studies into identifying the psychological needs of adopted children pre-placement, how trauma can look like other conditions and the importance of broad, all-encompassing assessments.

In short, I heard my experience (and the experiences of countless other families) and the language that fits those experiences taken as read. Some areas of contention perhaps, but that’s to be expected and not to be avoided.

Our session the following day was well received and some themes emerged; the profound impacts upon children of multiple traumas and the education of practitioners around this, a reappraisal of thresholds, a reappraisal of the system which tends to ‘silo’ children into existing pathways, the need for families to be held throughout their journey rather than ‘six sessions and you’re out’.

The nub of it all of course is the gross mismatch between resources and demand. Many families no longer express demand, by either suffering in silence, or finding their own alternative therapeutic support.  Some end up back in higher level psychiatric services and one must ask whether better, earlier intervention could go some way towards prevention.

For me, the biggest and potentially most effective untapped resource is families. As we know, the majority of all the good therapeutic work and healing takes place within families and yet many battle on unsupported and not respected. Not only that, parents educate themselves, they share information and feedback, they support each other and they fight systems some of which even to this day refuse to accept, despite all the evidence to the contrary, the profound impact upon children of trauma. And all this takes place whilst delivering high-octane parenting, day after day, 24/7.

As someone who is interested in not only parenting post trauma, but also economics, social systems and new models of delivering services I offer this:

  • Giving families(users) the resources and information they need to do the best job they can has got be cost effective, we are key members of the ‘team around the child’. Please also give us access to the evidence. It isn’t easy to find and some if it is expensive (lots of us don’t have jobs).
  • We would love to engage with you more, in a professional manner, not in a ranty, negative manner (although sometimes we may become emotional because this stuff is personal and cuts deep).
  • We would like you to engage with our groups too. We can fill a conference room with 350 people if there is a chance we can come away with hope, information and strategies that work. We like the great American speakers, which some of you don’t like so much but we’d be just as happy to listen to you. Where are you?
  • We come under criticism for lunging at non-evidenced-based interventions, and for being a bit loud and pushy. I think that’s partly because we stare into a giant CAMHS void – voids suck things into them, anything.
  • Every practitioner I’ve met (quite a few) who is offering therapeutic support to adoptive families has at one time worked for CAMHS. It suits me, because I’ve found what I need, but is sole-trader, private sector provision really a long-term, structural solution?

I know that at least one delegate who came to our session was expecting me to deliver a dirge of negative criticism of mental health professionals and CAMHS. I didn’t, because it’s pointless and disrespectful. It also leads us nowhere. I remain profoundly optimistic about the healing and progress that can take place with the commitment of families and wider teams who travel alongside a child. It’s long, hard and sometimes painful work and there are hard battles to fight along the way, but it can be transformative. Re-imagining a better future is part of that.

A Profoundly Generous Act – iPM covers adoption

This week I was going to write an autumnal post filled with windfalls, bonfires, jam making and the like. I know. Yawn.

Then this morning, as I was testing a pizza recipe (more about that in future writings) iPM appeared on BBC iplayer.  I’d heard last week’s programme and been moved by it so decided to listen to the follow up .  IPM ‘does’ adoption really well, perhaps because it gives space and listens without judgment or agenda.  Last week an adopter talked with great eloquence about how her teenage son had spiralled out of control and the difficulties she’d experienced trying to access any kind of useful support.  He now lives away from home and the title of the article ‘I have an empty seat at my kitchen table’ I’m sure struck a chord with many adopters raising teenage children from near or far who have been traumatised as a result of experiencing abuse and neglect in their early lives.

This week’s programme ‘you stitch it back together again’ was bursting with feedback from listeners who have been through similar experiences and have come out the other side.  All had taken the trouble to contact iPM to offer the family hope for the future.  One was interviewed.  Sunderland University came forward to state their aim to become a centre of excellence in the UK for post adoption support (god knows we need one).

Some years ago a professional who has worked alongside our family for many years reassured me that although things may at times seem hopeless, all the good work, the extra-extra parenting, the hard thought out therapeutic responses, the long nights of reassurance, the standing firm during the storms, all endure, planted within the psyche of that young person and that there will come a time when the resultant healing will become evident, like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.  At times I have clung on to that reassurance for dear life.  I’m glad I have. Chez Donovan there is evidence of substantial healing; glimpses of incredible emotional intelligence, signs of gritty endurance and dreams daring to be dreamed.  We’re not through the woods, but we’re travelling with hope.



I kneaded and reflected, as I have many times before, on the kindness and compassion of others who know exactly what it is to anchor around a traumatised teenager.  To reach out across the airwaves as these listeners did, to offer hope, was I think, a profoundly generous act.


A GCSE in Hysteria

A long time ago my friends and I took our GCSEs, which were then called ‘O’ (for Ordinary) levels. Not many grown ups appeared to give much of a care how well we did, including many of our teachers.  The teaching was, by today’s standards, worse than ordinary.  Still we did alright, mainly because we came from stable, happy, encouraging families which meant we had little to worry about over and above parties, boys and revision.  Only a small fraction of our year group went on to study A levels.  Many of our peers were horribly and lazily failed.  It was clear even to our sixteen year old selves that the education system needed pulling up by it’s bootstraps.

Fast forward thirty years and the hysteria around GCSE results is hard to avoid.  Now the successes and failures of our sixteen year olds are everyone’s business.  Politicians are serious and measured and take care to namecheck grade inflation and global competitiveness.  Head teachers earnestly praise the hard work and dedication of their pupils.  Parents are proud.  Young people are excited, relieved and proud and rightly so.

Distant relatives, family friends, friends of friends and friends of friends of friends and television reporters also get in on the act.  There is an unseemly level of competitiveness. Or is that me being a curmudgeon?  I don’t know. There just seems to be an awful lot of public boasting and prying and smugness.  It’s not pretty.  Some of it is quite mean.

For some young people and their families GCSE results are not the be all and end all (newsflash!).  It will be hard for them, nevertheless to drown out the hoop-la and keep focussed on the end game, whilst not getting too down-hearted about having failed to make it through the narrow gate into the promised land.  For some, that end game may be a career which suits  less-narrowly defined skills (which for instance could go towards filling the significant and economy withering skills gaps in construction, engineering and horticulture).

In our (adoptive) family, GCSE time is converging with emotional upheaval around identity, loss and making sense of the past and future.  It’s like being in a flimsy tent during a hurricane, when your torch has run out of battery.

I wish we could delay exams for another year, but we can’t so instead it has become a time for setting clear priorities.  Our priorities right now are around emotional health and well-being, stability and therapy.  Our measures of success are about remaining in some form of education and more important than that, the preservation and evolution of our family unit.  A focus on education and training can come later.  This sounds like an active choice, but it really isn’t.  The emotional stuff is begging to be addressed right now.  I fear that if it’s not recognised as a priority it will make itself heard and seen until it is made a priority, either that or it will all be too late.  But how does this fit in with the ‘5 GCSEs and no excuses’ mantra that we get regularly beaten over the head with?

I’ve always had a sense that we will get there in the end, as long as we hold firm and remember what is important.  It’s not easy. It’s like swimming against a very strong current. People shout at you from the shore.  You doubt yourself. A lot.

Recovering from trauma, learning to live with what cannot be resolved and facing the most difficult questions about human strength and frailty are feats of the utmost human endurance.  These achievements may not say much about intellectual rigour, but do speak loudly about a person’s resilience, perseverance and emotional intelligence.  There are many ways in which a young person can pursue and become a success.  We all know this and it’s popular to say it, even out loud, in public, but all the evidence (Facebook) points to the fact that we don’t really truly believe it.

When our young people begin to feel strong enough to think about the future, perhaps to engage with education in it’s wider sense, to embark on a BTEC, to retake some GCSEs or to start an apprenticeship or a part time job then we mustn’t forget to celebrate them too.  They deserve it, because they will have achieved something significant with their hands tied behind their backs.

I wouldn’t for a moment go back to the rubbishy practices of my  1980s secondary school education, but I wonder if over-compensation (and fears over Far Eastern-dominated league tables) has swung things too far the other way.  I’m not arguing for excuses, but I am making a case for reasons: reasons alongside services, flexibility, patience and support.  It’s in all our interests that our young people get there, wherever that is, in the end.

The spirit spreads its wings (and toes)

2015 has been a turbulent year so far and all four of us were in need of a break together, away from it all.

Our ‘go to’ holiday is a week in a Eurocamp caravan in France.  This year we successfully managed a different campsite to the one we’ve been to before.  It was a bit bigger, with a bit more to do, but not too much bigger, or with too much more. Successful holidays for us have been built carefully, year-on-year, from small parts of adventure and big hunks of predictability.  Vary the proportions too radically and we risk suffering the fallout from boredom or anxiety. It’s hard to know which I’d opt for given a choice.

The bedrock of much that works successfully in our family is tradition and this is probably why, quite remarkably, we all managed to ease back on the emotional gas pedal for a week and truly, meaningfully relax.

Our traditions include incorrectly singing the overnight ferry ‘wake up’ tune (a hundred times), the cycle to the campsite shop to buy pain au chocolate in the morning, hours of swimming (and me screaming down the fast slide into the swimming pool), hours of rock pooling, loading up on Bugles (our French salty snack of choice) and a trip or two out to a creperie for a ‘fromage jambon’.

IMG_2026For me, an important part of the letting go of a summer holiday is reading.  Reading (minus an internet connection) frees the spirit to wonder to other places, gives it chance to stretch it’s legs, breath the sea air and recuperate from the endless onslaught of everyday life.

This year I meandered from Amy Poehler’s autobiography, to Harvest by Jim Grace , to Unreliable Memoirs by Clive James, to The Shock of the Fall by Nathan Filer and back to books 2 and 3 of Clive James’ memoirs.  In between I dipped in and out of Elizabeth Taylor’s enormous book of short stories – not quite a mille-feuille, but almost and just as delicious.

More than New Year, for me this is the time for resolutions.  A long walk along the shoreline, a half pichet of Muscadet, a nap, a read and then perhaps another nap helps to put things into perspective.  It was while I was reading Harvest that things started to fall into place.  I’d kayaked across the bay a few times, the sea was lit with fragments of sunlight, families were digging for oysters in the shallows and I dried off and entered the barbarity of land enclosures and the feudal system.  Someone died in the village stocks.  Their dead body got eaten by a pig. I began to wonder if my recovering soul needed a less fibrous diet.

Despite bright, wondrous flashes of hope, the next few (ten?) years are going to demand that I and those around me try as hard as we can to stay strong, healthy and positive.  I see no other way but to steer clear of too much gratuitous misery, hand-wringing and hopelessness, and to fill up with the good, life-affirming stuff.

I remain positive about the tremendous impact that therapeutic families like ours can have on growing lives, but we carry a heavy load on our shoulders  It took a holiday to remind me what we are built on, and that is good times and a healthy spirit.


definitely ‘nature’


Sunderland University Training – CEL&T

The Department of Social Sciences at Sunderland University has launched online training for those working with, parenting, or otherwise supporting children who have experienced loss and trauma (CEL&T).  The training is aimed at those working in social work, education and healthcare as well as foster carers, adopters, kinship carers and others.  The units are affordable, can be done at home and can be clocked up as Continuing Professional Development.

My book The Unofficial Guide to Adoptive Parenting is the basis for the three units I’ve produced.  They are (readers will not be surprised to learn) focused on the messy, lived realities of parenting children who have experienced loss and trauma and the approaches and techniques that I have found the most effective.  I’ve worked hard to make the training fresh and practical and I’ve woven in the ways in which children and families may best be supported.  The units all contain written material, links to other resources and are voiced by me (I can confirm that listening to one’s own voice is up there on the list of Most Excruciating).

There are currently nine units available from a variety of ‘service users’ and professionals including Dr Wendy Thorley, Stephanie Hunter, David Harrop and Voices Making Choices and there are more to come.

As well as it’s development of online training, Sunderland University has hosted two conferences to date which focus on the voices of children who have experienced loss and trauma and ways in which services could better tailor support by listening to these voices.  Another conference is being planned for next year.  There are many individuals and organisations working to improve services and there is of course much more to be done and many obstacles blocking the way.  I’m proud to be a part of Sunderland University’s programme.  It’s rolled up it’s sleeves and got on with it, and I like that approach.