5. Starting a Charity : The Birth of Trauma Informed Parenting

“Let’s set up a charity.” I’m not sure if it was supposed to be a joke when Steven said these words, but it didn’t seem like the worst idea. “I’m sure you will be able to get funding,” he said. How do you even start a charity? Did it cost money? Did you have to have experience in charities? Lots of other people had done it. How hard could it be? Off I went down a wormhole, looking for information. There was so much to learn, so many people to talk to, but where to start? Steven knew a few people through his networking group and got me the names of some organizations. Firstport was really helpful. They helped me understand that it wasn’t as simple as just starting a charity. There were many different kinds of charities and social enterprises, and it depended on the work of the organization to determine what might suit best.

I had many meetings with many people. Our local voluntary action group gave me tons of information—too much for my brain to process. At this point, all I knew was that I needed at least three trustees, and I had to write a constitution. They gave me a template document to use and told me to apply to OSCR for charity status. At this point, I decided to set up a Facebook group and called it *Trauma Informed Parenting*. The plan was that it would give the organization a presence, and we could document the journey of becoming a charity while sharing the occasional helpful post.

Three trustees. Where to start? Who would even be interested? I put out a post on the group and my own social media. No one responded. I asked a few people I thought might be keen. They politely declined. I thought that if Steven and I could be trustees, then we would only need one more. It needed to be someone I knew, liked, and trusted. One person who fit that perfectly and had some amazing skills to boot was my childhood friend Pamela—my rock, my bestie. But was this too much to ask of her? Would it stretch our friendship too far? When I messaged her to ask, I gave her so many ways to say no. The message would have started with “Feel free to say no,” and I’m sure there were a few “Absolutely no pressure” and “I will totally understand if you don’t want to” thrown in. But her prompt reply consolidated my already undying love. She had written words like “I would be honored” and “delighted to support you.” I was euphoric. Boy, had I lucked out having her in my corner. Her belief in me felt like a huge endorsement.

So we had three. I went on to OSCR, the Scottish charity regulator, and in July 2019, just 10 months after attending the ACE Aware Nation event, I sent in an application to set up a charity called *Trauma Informed Parenting*.

But it was no small task. It turned out that if I wanted to become an employee of the charity eventually, I couldn’t be a trustee. I wasn’t happy. This was my baby. I didn’t want to give up control of it, but there was no way around it. I had to find another trustee to step in. Back to the drawing board. I roped in another of my good friends, Julie. She and her husband had been foster carers before us. It was seeing them go through the process that had given us the confidence to do it. She was a perfect fit, although she didn’t think she was and couldn’t see how much wonderful experience she could bring to the role. More as a favor to me, she kindly agreed. At a night out with my neighbors, over a few drinks, Barbara, who was an accountant, made the mistake of offering her services to help if I needed them. She didn’t need to ask twice. I was thrilled.

In the meantime, I had decided to offer a free workshop in Glasgow. I needed to see if there was even an appetite for this. We knew of a lovely office space we could hire that was central and not too expensive. In August 2019, I offered our first official *Trauma Informed Parenting* workshop. I shared it on as many Facebook group pages as I could find. Posts about what I was doing and signing people up to the event. I was surprised at the interest. Twenty people signed up to come. Ten came on the day. The feedback blew me away. We continued to host one each month. September’s workshop was just as busy, and so was October’s. I’m still in contact with many of the people who attended those early events. Some have become trustees. The content changed and grew as we took the feedback on board. We were asked to deliver workshops for a few organizations. All of this was for free, and in fact, at my own expense, but the hope was that eventually, if people heard about the workshops, we might be able to sell tickets or secure funding.

Pamela arranged a meeting with us both and her wonderfully eccentric Auntie Grace, who had lots of experience in charities. She gave me a wealth of information and equally terrified me with all the questions I would need to answer. The info and grilling she gave me that day unknowingly provided me with the education required to continue on this journey. I am forever grateful for this turning point that meeting provided.

We were corresponding with OSCR, answering all of the many questions about the organization we were building. We had opted to become a SCIO charity. We had to decide on what our charitable purpose should be, . This process of back-and-forth with OSCR took months and months. But finally we agreed that Trauma Informed Parentings purposes would be: (j) The advancement of human rights conflict resolution and reconciliation -to promote repair and connection in relationships and reduce the fight and flight response in previously reactive children. To teach parents to de-escalate potentially explosive interactions. (n)The relief of those in need-to support placements in crisis and prevent families breaking down. To support parents to better support children suffering from trauma. To build a safe and loving environment for traumatized children to learn to heal. It took so long. so many emails back and forth with OSCR, question after question, I had to provide so much evidence, at times I wondered if it was even worth it and came close to giving up. But on January 29th, 2020, Pamela sent me a message congratulating me. I didn’t know what for, but we had both received an email with our charity number, telling us *Trauma Informed Parenting* was officially a charity.

By February 2020, we were offering a monthly workshop, and a few people were buying tickets—foster carers, parents, nursery staff, support workers. These groups were small, sometimes only 3 or 4 people, but they grew. By March, we had groups of 10, and a fostering agency had booked three workshops across Scotland. Things were getting exciting.

But by the time we delivered the March workshops, something a bit scary was hitting the news. People were canceling their tickets and not turning up. The fostering agency called to say that in the current situation, they didn’t feel it was safe to hold these events. Of course, I understood, but I couldn’t believe what was happening. All of the momentum we had built was lost.

The world was going into lockdown.

4. Finding my voice-Delivering my first workshop.

Roughly 6 months after attending the ACE Aware Nation event and learning about Bryan Post's stress model, I started to feel the need to tell people about this new way. People had to know. I kept imagining what a different world we could have if others had this knowledge—social workers, teachers, parents, carers, police. If they all understood that children were not choosing these behaviors, and that everyone is in a state of fear and survival, everything would change. Systems would change. Generational patterns of dysfunction could change. It was blowing my mind wide open. I felt the energy of this revelation pumping in my veins. I was being driven by something deep within, something new and unfamiliar. I felt this was my purpose. Every moment in my life now made sense. Every hard, upsetting thing I had ever endured—all of the childhood trauma and the years of being a stressed and overwhelmed, frantic parent—had happened for a reason. To bring me to this very place at this exact time.

At our next foster care support group, I asked if anyone was interested in me doing a talk about this new trauma-informed approach I had learned. I suggested we also have a showing of The Resilience film. This film, made by the fantastic Nadine Burke Harris, who I heard speak at the ACEs event, explained the impact of Adverse Childhood Experiences and was being shown across Scotland to many people working with children. I had already managed to see it at a local school. Many wanted to see it but couldn’t find anywhere showing it. It was an extremely powerful film. The other carers seemed interested, and the social workers agreed. The lead social worker put me in touch with our Educational Psychologist, who had the film and the rights to offer a screening.

I had a short PowerPoint of sorts that I had been working on, using some of the Post Institute slides sent to me while training in the model. Feeling like an absolute imposter, I met with the Educational Psychologist in her office. I explained my story and my idea, and she asked to see my slides. She said she would get back to me. I felt incredibly vulnerable, like a 5-year-old in the head teacher's office. I left with heavy feet, thinking surely she would laugh her head off at my PowerPoint and suggestions. But a few days later, she emailed me with possible dates, and a plan was formed.

To be honest, I resented social work for making me work with her. This was my baby. I didn’t need the side dish of intimidation. But if we wanted to show The Resilience film, she needed to be involved.

As the day drew nearer, I prepared. Friends who were carers signed up—some that had seen the difference in my wee guy and were curious, some who just wanted to support me and had no idea what to expect, and some who were forced to come by their workers and were disgruntled about it. Many had years more experience in foster care than me, and many I hugely respected. Around 15 people were booked in. We would show The Resilience film in the first hour, have a discussion led by the Educational Psychologist, and then I had 1 hour to deliver my part of the session.

I was pumped. I was excited. I was terrified. The night before, what I had signed up for hit me. What was I thinking??!! Where on earth did I get the idea that I had anything to say?? Pure terror set in. Steven could see this and gave me a wide berth, checking on me occasionally but knowing well enough that I was not fit for human company. I couldn’t even talk because the fear in my throat was so thick. I went to bed early and tried to find oblivion in unconsciousness. Thankfully, my brain shut down, and somehow I managed to sleep.

The next morning, I was a mess—grumpy, jittery, overwhelmed. I must be mad. Who did I think I was? Why did I say I would do this? But I kept putting one foot in front of the other. Breathing, breathing, breathing. I listened to one of Bryan’s recordings on the way there, which helped validate everything I was about to do.

Stepping into that room, I was met with so many familiar faces. I think this made it worse because I knew too well how set in their old-fashioned parenting ways some of them were. Those that had been told to come by their workers were obvious. Their body language said it all—folded arms, stern faces. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

The showing of the *Resilience* film went well, and the discussion afterward was good. Next, it was my turn. My legs were like jelly. My voice was cracking. “Come on, Suzanne, pull yourself together.” But once I started, it was okay. I got through the presentation. I told them about the brain, stress, and fear. I explained what we had experienced when we made this change. There was some discussion, and the Psychologist stepped in a few times. I didn’t necessarily agree with what she said and was hugely proud of myself when I found the courage to respectfully say so.

The feedback was very positive. Some told me we needed more of this information out in the world. I was just relieved it was over. But it was also exhilarating. As we packed up, the Psychologist told me she felt it had gone well and that this was information she often tried to give parents, but they would feel like it was a personal attack. She said that coming from me, using my own experiences, may appeal more and make the information more palatable.

I had hoped she would want to do more sessions with me or offer advice on how to use this knowledge, but she offered none. She said her goodbyes and went off to the social worker's office, I’m assuming to discuss the days events. I wasn’t invited to join. I left feeling pretty deflated. Where did we go from here?

In the days that followed, I emailed many different organizations, telling them of my experience and that I was retiring as a foster carer and looking to use what I had learned. They seemed confused by my offer.

It was on a Sunday morning, still in our pajamas over breakfast, that Steven came up with his idea. We were yet again talking over what to do with this information. I needed to find a job and didn’t want to walk away from fostering with all this new knowledge and not use it in some way. I had been a hairdresser for years and was now also training to become a swimming instructor, but my real passion was in sharing this information. No one seemed to take me seriously, though.

“Let’s start a charity,” he said.

3. Breaking Free from the Parenting Matrix

I was so excited and nervous to start this new parenting program. 28 days seemed like a long time, though. Would I manage to keep up with the work that might be set? What should I expect? It seemed like Bryan was building a community, an army even, of "Posties," he called us. He was being goofy about it and even had a picture of himself in the black coat and glasses from *The Matrix* movie, asking if we wanted the blue pill or the red pill before signing up.

He posted videos on his Facebook and hyped it up. As people signed up, we were all added to a new Facebook group called "The Post Lovalution." I was buzzing with anticipation.

Each morning, Bryan went live in the group. He made short videos with tasks. At first, he told us to spend a day reflecting on our own parents' experiences of parenting and our grandparents' experiences. Then he told us to curl up in the fetal position on our bed and try to remember anything we could about our own in-utero experience. Another time, we were to sit in our child's bedroom while they were out and imagine their internal world. These tasks seemed odd. Not what I had expected at all. They were focused on me, not my child. Some mornings I could watch them live and even get a chance to interact with Bryan; other times I would watch the replay. The more I worked through this daily, the more lightbulbs went off in my brain.

Then the tasks shifted more toward our relationship with the child. We were to list 20 different ways we could respond in those worst moments. Then, we were to purposely mess up and cause a drama. It was madness at times, but so incredibly effective. He told us to go three times each day and just sit beside our child and breathe. We could message Bryan with our sticking points, and he would get back to us with his feedback. It was brilliant. In the group, others were sharing how they were finding it. A community was forming. He asked us to memorize his stress model, video ourselves saying it, and post it. It took me ages to memorize this:

"All behaviors arise from a state of stress and fear. In between the behavior and the stress is the presence of a primary emotion. There are only two primary emotions: love and fear. So, it’s all coming from fear. It’s through expressing, processing, and understanding the fear that we calm the stress and diminish the behavior."

But in doing this, a deeper understanding of what these words really meant emerged. I had no idea at this stage that I would one day be saying this over and over each week during workshops I would deliver.

The program transformed our home. Steven started to see that there was something to this. Each day, I reported the details of the session and what I was learning. He could see that things in our home were changing. Meltdowns were reducing, not just with my wee guy, but even my autistic child's meltdowns had stopped. My own meltdowns weren’t happening either. Within our marriage, things had changed. We were learning to see each other’s fear, to come back, repair, and hold space to listen. The more I validated Steven’s fear, the more he started to see that he didn’t need to jump in and fix everything. He began supporting me so that I could support them. He wasn’t always great at staying calm or seeing the fear in the moment, but he was able to reflect afterward and recognize when he had been triggered.

Even when I told him about the regressed state—after I had first offered to hold and soothe my wee guy like a baby—and we witnessed how healing this could be. I suggested that I might even offer him a bottle. Steven was horrified. Surely I wasn’t serious. That was just too far. We had some harsh words over it. I was so frustrated at his shutdown of this idea as we had come so far. But later that evening, he came to me with an apology. He had spent some time googling it, obviously expecting validation for his belief that this was messed up, and learning that, actually, it was a thing? It did work. He apologized for his reaction and owned that it had freaked him out and seemed really wrong. Big changes were taking place in our home.

These changes were taking place in me most of all. In these worst moments, I was becoming aware of my triggers. In reflection afterward, I could see the moments from my own past that were coming up for me. Like wormholes in time, I was being sucked back into them—there were so many. I became acutely, painfully aware of how our parenting had affected our children through the years. In my mind’s eye, I could see flashes of my children as infants, toddlers, even babies, and recognize all of these moments filled with overwhelming stress and fear. It was horrific to start to recognize this. So much trauma. But I hadn’t known. I hadn’t understood. No one had told me there was another way.

Looking back, I feel so fortunate to have been part of those live sessions with Bryan. The content is still available through The Post Institute via the recordings, but no other group got to experience it live with access to Bryan in that way. It feels like fate put me there, exactly in the right place at the right time.

Social work could also see the difference. They agreed to cover the cost of the monthly subscription for two months. I had noticed on the website there were other courses. Part of signing up meant that I could work through these and become certified in Bryan’s model. "Why not?" I thought. I had no idea what use it might ever be to me.

No idea that this was about to become my call to arms.

The Post Institute-Parenting Matrix/ lovaolution Programme

https://www.newparentingloveolution.com/loveolution-program-review24717065

2. From Chaos to Calm: My Parenting Breakthrough with Bryan Post

After discovering the work of Bryan Post, I couldn’t get enough of it. Every day, while driving in my car or working around the house, I was listening to his teachings. There were so many short videos on his Facebook and longer videos on his YouTube. My brain was on fire with all of this new information. It was like nothing I had ever heard before.

Was this man talking about me? Not my child. He was telling me that I had to calm down, that I was making the situation worse with my own stress, and that my child was not choosing these behaviors. The odd thing was, it was making sense. Somehow, it just felt right. Could it really be as simple as this? He was telling me to do nothing. To stop and breath and not make things worse.

I showed this to Steven. He was skeptical. It sounded too "airy-fairy." Too good to be true. Every new thing I learned, I would relay back to him. He was interested but not convinced.

The more I learned, the more curious I became. Bryan was teaching me about the brain and what happens when it goes into a fear state and how we all feed off each other's energy. I found myself having to pull my car over and put my head in my hands many times while listening, as my brain was blown by how much I could see myself in this information. I would shout in agreement at my phone as more information sparked moments of realisation. Lightbulb after lightbulb going off in my head.

But the real test was in those big moments with my child. He gave me plenty of opportunities to try this out. One evening, while he was melting down in his room, Steven and I waited it out downstairs. Bryan’s mantras ran through my head:

“All behaviors arise from stress and fear.”

“They cannot choose behaviors in this state.”

“Their thinking is confused and distorted.”

“They are regressed back into the trauma in these moments.”

I reminded Steven of these; he was still unconvinced. But I kept repeating them, trying to convince myself as much as him. “Okay,” I said, “I’m gonna try this.” Up I went.

My wee guy was in a rage, his room was wrecked. His face was red, and his body tense. He was on the bed, his body curled into a ball, refusing to look my way. The anger was emanating from him, palpable.

I asked if I could come in, and he grudgingly nodded. I sat on the floor. For a while, I said nothing. Bryan’s words echoed in my head again: “Just breath.” So I did. I wish I could remember all of that interaction from that day, but I can’t. I just know that things went very differently. I remember him moving closer and eventually cuddling in beside me. I mostly remember coming back down in awe to tell Steven about it, replaying it to him in disbelief. I remember calm was restored, and breakthroughs were made. My wee guy had been able to talk to me, and we had reflected together on what had led to him feeling and behaving this way. When I understood his experience, I felt very differently. Where there had previously been frustration and disappointment, there was now compassion and empathy. I couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Of course, I worried this was a fluke, a one-off. But as the days went on and I kept seeing the fear, kept seeing the regressed, stressed child underneath, the repair got easier and quicker. He started to expect that I would come to him in this way, and secure in the knowledge that we could have these moments afterwards. He started meeting me in the hallway, on the stairs, waiting. This was actually making a difference. And every time, I would go back to Steven, and we would marvel at what we were seeing. He was still resistant, but he couldn’t deny that there was something to this.

The more I learned, the more change we saw. I started offering ways for him to express his emotions through drawing, screaming, jumping, and even allowing a safe space for him to swear and get it all out. The meltdowns became less frequent and much shorter. I wasn’t perfect. I made many many mistakes. But I always came back to repair and afterwards, reflect, so that I could learn about what I could do differently.

So, when Bryan Post announced that he was offering a new parenting program, I had to sign up. He called it the ‘Parenting Matrix.’ It would last 28 days, and he would talk to us each day, delivering a short session with work for us to do daily. This was like the Matrix movie; he said that if we did this, we would be leaving the old parenting paradigm behind us and that there was no going back.

I was all in.

1. My First Blog Post: The Beginning of a Life-Changing Journey

I've been asked often if I have a blog. So, I’m going to give it a try. As a dyslexic human, this is no small task, so please be kind!

When I walked into the ACE Aware Nation seminar back in 2018, with a free ticket offered by my supervising social worker, I had no idea it would transform my life in every way imaginable. My foster child’s amazing social worker had already piqued my interest in Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs) and introduced me to a fab Facebook group called "Connecting the Dots to ACEs." I had learned so much from this group and had already seen small changes in my child. Still, I was nervous. Should I even be here? Was I qualified for this? After all, I was just a hairdresser from Glasgow who had been fostering for six years—not exactly a professional.

As I parked and headed to the Armadillo building, I saw the others attending, all gathered outside. The queue was growing, and the rain was smirring down—typical Scottish weather, of course. Umbrellas were bumping. The doors were late in opening, and people were eager to get inside. A few folks started chatting: a social worker whose train had been running late and was thankful for the delayed and an early years worker who wasn’t sure what to expect from the event. We were eventually diverted to another building, only to be turned back again to the original building to finally get in. In the rush for seats, I managed to slip unnoticed to the very back, where I hid, feeling all of my insecurities bubble up as the empty seat beside me remained unclaimed.

Just as I was convincing myself I didn’t belong, a woman sat down next to me. We waited and waited some more. The event was running extremely late. Apologies were made, but the crowd stayed patient. A friendly conversation started between me and my neighbour, a social worker who had lost track of her colleagues somewhere in the audience. We talked about our hopes for the day, and through our conversation, I realized I knew a lot more about ACEs than I had given myself credit for. I shared links, groups, and info, and she was glad to take it.

Finally, two hours behind schedule, the lights dimmed, and the seminar began. To this day, I wonder if the delay was intentional—to spark those important conversations and connections.

It was wonderful. I sat in awe, listening to people whose names I had never heard before but who would soon become my beacons of hope and guidance: John Carnochan, Nicki Murray, James Docherty, Nadine Burke Harris. The information blew my mind. This was why I was the way I was. This was why my autistic child had trauma. I could now understand why my foster children couldn’t just stop certain behaviors. No wonder NO WONDER!!!!

I was gutted to miss Suzanne Zeedyk’s talk at the end due to the long delay. I had to get home—Steven was holding down the fort, and rush-hour traffic awaited me. I left with a heavy heart, carrying a bag of pamphlets and my programme.

Later that night, after the dinner, baths, and bedtime routines were done, I tried to relay bits of what I had learned to Steven. Flicking through the leaflets and programme, I wondered how we could change things. It was fascinating to understand ACEs and the reasons behind our behaviors, but how do we change them? I wanted more.

Then, as I scanned the back of the programme, I saw a name: BRYAN POST -THE POST INSTITUTE. He hadn’t been mentioned at the event, but I was curious. Despite being exhausted, I pulled out my phone and Googled him. Videos of Bryan came alive on my screen—his presence was glorious, and he was passionate about this parenting paradigm. His content was free and abundant. He mentioned something about "The Post Daily Dose, the best 10-minute parenting show on the internet," but I was too tired to explore more that night. I saved the links and promised myself to check them out the next day.

I went to bed, my mind swimming with everything I had heard that day. I felt hopeful but had no idea that my life was about to change in ways I could never have imagined. I was on the verge of a journey of self-discovery and healing. My family was about to transform from a battleground of meltdowns and yelling to a place of compassion and learning. More than that, I was about to find my life’s purpose. Everything my family and I had gone through had been leading to this moment, and it was all for a reason.

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This is just the beginning. There’s so much more I want to share about my journey into ACEs, trauma informed parenting, and how this knowledge has reshaped everything in my life. Stay tuned for more, and thank you for reading!