Giving the Child a Small Part of the World Back
On Choice, Control, and Dignity After Trauma
A child stands in the doorway of an unfamiliar room.
Inside, two adults are waiting. A chair has been placed there. On the table are sheets of paper, coloured pencils, and a glass of water.
One of the adults says:
“Come in and sit down.”
The child remains standing.
Perhaps the child is afraid.
Perhaps the child does not know who the adults are, what they know, or what they are going to ask.
Perhaps the child has already experienced many rooms in which adults decided everything.
Where the child should sit.
What the child should say.
Who should be told.
When the child had to leave.
What would happen afterwards.
The adult may repeat:
“You do not need to be afraid. Just sit here.”
But the child still does not move.
Then the other adult says:
“You can choose whether you want to sit on the chair, on the sofa, or on the cushion by the window.”
The child looks into the room.
Three possibilities.
None of them changes why the conversation is taking place. The adult has not given up responsibility. The child may still have to be there.
But something has changed.
The child walks over to the cushion by the window and sits down.
It was a small choice.
Almost insignificant from the adult’s perspective.
But for a child who has experienced others taking control of the body, the voice, or life itself, a small choice may be the beginning of something larger.
I could not decide everything.
But I could decide something.
My will changed the world, even if only a little.
When the World Is Taken Away from the Child
Trauma is not only about pain.
It is also about powerlessness.
Something happens that the child cannot stop.
An adult uses violence.
A body is violated.
A parent disappears.
The home falls apart.
The child is moved.
Police officers, child protection workers, healthcare professionals, and new caregivers enter the child’s life.
Some of these adults cause harm.
Others try to help.
But for the child, the experience may take on a common form:
Other people decide.
The child may be told to pack.
Get into the car.
Sleep in a new place.
Meet people they do not know.
Speak about something difficult.
Be examined.
Wait.
Move again.
Much of this may be necessary.
Yet the child may feel that life no longer belongs to them.
Things happen to me.
Around me.
Above my head.
I am told afterwards.
I can protest, but it changes nothing.
When the child loses the experience of being able to influence their own world, safety may also disappear.
Because safety is not only the absence of danger.
It is also the knowledge that one’s own signals matter.
That one can speak.
That someone listens.
That the world does not always arrive without warning.
Control as Survival
Children who have experienced powerlessness may become deeply concerned with control.
They want to know exactly what is going to happen.
Who is coming.
How long it will last.
What they will eat.
Where the adult will sit.
Which route the car will take.
They may become angry when plans change.
Refuse to lend things.
Hide food.
Collect objects.
Control younger children.
Insist on doing everything themselves.
Adults may experience the child as demanding.
Rigid.
Manipulative.
Controlling.
But perhaps the need for control is trying to protect the child from an older experience:
When I do not know what is happening, something dangerous occurs.
When other people decide, I lose myself.
When the plan changes, everything may go wrong.
This does not mean that the child should be given control over every person and situation.
A child cannot decide what everyone else must do. The child cannot control the whole family, classroom, or institution.
But before the adult corrects the need for control, the adult must understand what it does for the child.
Control may be a solution.
Not a good solution in every situation.
But perhaps the best one the child has found so far.
Small Choices and Large Experiences
A small choice may seem trivial.
Would you like the red cup or the blue one?
Would you like to do your homework before or after dinner?
Would you like the door open or slightly ajar?
Would you like to walk with me or meet me there?
Would you like to begin with the drawing or the conversation?
None of these choices changes the major questions in the child’s life.
The child may not decide where they will live.
Whether the parents will have contact.
Whether the case will be investigated.
Whether a medical examination must take place.
But small choices may offer a different experience of daily life.
I am asked.
My answer is remembered.
My choice leads to something.
This is more than politeness.
It is the rebuilding of agency.
Trauma taught the child:
You have no power.
Good care responds:
You cannot decide everything, but you are not without influence.
Choices That Are Not Real
Adults may offer choices that are not really choices.
“Would you like to tidy up now or immediately?”
“Would you like to tell them yourself, or should I do it for you?”
“Would you like to come willingly, or shall we collect you?”
Children often see through this.
A choice in which both alternatives lead to the same outcome may feel like hidden power.
The adult pretends that the child is deciding, but the result has already been determined.
This may weaken trust.
It is better to be honest:
“The room must be tidied before we go outside. You can choose whether to begin with the books or the clothes.”
What the child cannot choose is stated clearly.
What the child can choose is real.
Participation then does not become a performance.
The child does not need to believe that they have more power than they actually have.
But the child does need to know where influence is possible.
When There Are Too Many Choices
It is possible to give a child too little influence.
It is also possible to offer too many choices.
An adult asks:
What would you like to eat?
Where would you like to live?
Whom would you like to meet?
When would you like to go to school?
What do you think we should do?
For a child who is already living with anxiety, this may become overwhelming.
Choice requires capacity.
The child must understand the alternatives.
See possible consequences.
Recognise their own needs.
Tolerate the uncertainty of choosing one thing and losing another.
A child in a state of alarm may find this very difficult.
The child may answer:
“I do not know.”
The adult continues:
“But what do you really want?”
Perhaps the child does not know.
Perhaps every alternative feels dangerous.
Perhaps the child believes the adult wants one particular answer.
Good participation does not therefore mean that the child must constantly choose.
It means that the child is given choices of an appropriate size.
Two options, not ten.
Clear boundaries.
Help to understand.
Permission to change their mind where possible.
And the possibility of saying:
“You can decide this time.”
That too can be a choice.
The Child Must Not Carry Adult Responsibility
When adults want to respect the child’s voice, they may end up placing too much responsibility on the child.
“Would you like to move home to your mother or remain in foster care?”
“Do you want to report it?”
“Should your father be allowed to visit?”
These are questions with serious consequences.
The child’s view is important.
But the decision may be too heavy to carry.
The child may love someone who is also dangerous.
The child may want something that is not safe.
The child may be afraid of hurting the parents.
If the child feels that the outcome depends on the answer, guilt may follow later.
The family fell apart because I chose.
My father was arrested because I said yes.
My mother became sad because I wanted to stay.
Participation must not become the transfer of adult responsibility.
The adult can say:
“I want to know what you want and what you are afraid of. That is important. But the adults must decide what is safe.”
The child is heard.
But the child is not made responsible for the whole world.
Choosing Between Impossible Loyalties
Some children experience every choice as betrayal.
If they want to remain in foster care, they betray their parents.
If they want to return home, they betray the foster parents.
If they want to meet a brother who harmed them, they betray those who are protecting them.
If they do not want to meet him, they betray the family.
The adults ask:
“What do you want?”
But the child hears:
Whom do you love most?
Whom are you choosing to reject?
In such situations, the adult must help the child out of the impossible choice.
“You do not have to prove whom you love.”
“You can miss your mother and still be safe here.”
“You can want contact and also be afraid.”
“It is the adults’ responsibility to decide what can be carried out safely.”
The child should not be forced to choose only one feeling.
Or one person.
The child’s inner world may contain contradictions.
Dignity also includes the right to be ambivalent.
Knowing What Will Happen
Predictability gives the child a form of control, even when the child cannot decide.
A child going to a meeting needs to know:
Who will be there?
Where will we be?
How long will it last?
What will we talk about?
Can I take a break?
Who will come with me afterwards?
A child who is going to move needs, as far as possible, to know:
Where will I sleep?
What can I bring?
Who will meet me?
When will I see my siblings?
Will I attend the same school?
Not everything can be answered.
But uncertainty must not be hidden.
“I do not know yet” can be an honest answer.
What matters is that the child does not discover their own life through sudden events.
A car waiting outside.
A suitcase already packed.
A stranger standing in the doorway.
Adults may need to act quickly.
But for the child, the surprise may become another experience of having the world taken away.
Giving information is therefore also a way of returning a small part of control.
Being Allowed to Prepare
Preparation does not make the difficult easy.
But it may make it possible to face.
The child may be shown a photograph of the room.
Meet the adult in advance.
Visit the school before the first day.
Hold the equipment the doctor will use.
Choose what clothes to wear.
Pack their own bag.
Bring a familiar object.
Decide what should happen first.
The child then moves from being a passive object of the event to becoming a participant.
What is going to happen does not only happen to the child.
The child is also allowed to do something within it.
Even small preparations may reduce the feeling of being overpowered.
The Object That Gives Continuity
A child who is moved may lose many things in a very short time.
The room.
The bed.
The smells.
The sounds.
The neighbourhood.
The school.
The pet.
The people.
The adults may focus on the fact that the new place is safer.
But the body also registers the loss of what was familiar.
A small object may then become deeply important.
A teddy bear.
A blanket.
A photograph.
A book.
A jumper carrying the smell of home.
A stone the child found.
To adults, the object may seem insignificant.
To the child, it may connect the world before and after.
This is mine.
This came with me.
Not everything disappeared.
Allowing the child to choose what to bring may be a concrete way of preserving identity and continuity.
The child should not have to enter a new life empty-handed if this can be avoided.
The Room That Can Become One’s Own
Children entering foster care or residential care often receive a room that is already prepared.
The bed is in place.
The pictures have been chosen.
The bedding has been laid out.
It is intended as a welcome.
But the room may also feel like another place defined entirely by other people.
The child may be allowed to choose something.
The bedding.
A lamp.
Where the chair should stand.
Which drawings should be displayed.
Whether the door should be open or closed at night, as far as safety allows.
This is not merely interior decoration.
It is a way of saying:
You are not merely being kept here.
You are allowed to leave traces.
This room may become yours.
A child who has lost home needs more than a roof.
The child needs the experience of belonging somewhere.
Control Over Time
The child’s life is often governed by adult clocks.
Get up.
Eat.
Leave.
Meet.
Talk.
Go to bed.
Children need rhythm. But time can also be used in ways that make the child powerless.
“Now we are going to talk.”
“Time is up.”
“You need to hurry.”
The adult may give the child some control over time.
“The conversation will last about half an hour.”
“I will tell you when there are ten minutes left.”
“You can ask for a break.”
“We can stop earlier if it becomes too much.”
“Would you like to talk now or after dinner?”
When the child knows how long something will last, the situation becomes more contained.
The difficult experience is not endless.
Time gains a beginning and an end.
For children who have experienced events without control, this may matter greatly.
Being Able to Stop
One of the most fundamental elements of trauma is the experience that it did not stop.
The child may have said no.
Moved away.
Cried.
Become silent.
But the other person continued.
The word “stop” may therefore carry particular importance in helping work.
The child needs experiences of it actually working.
In play.
In conversation.
During touch.
During examinations.
“When you say stop, I will stop.”
And then the adult must stop whenever this is possible.
Not say:
“Just a little longer.”
Not persuade.
Not show disappointment.
Some actions cannot be ended entirely. A necessary medical procedure may have to continue.
But even then, the adult can pause for a moment.
Explain.
Allow the child to breathe.
Change position.
Ask what might make it possible to continue.
The child learns:
My signal changes what is happening.
I am not entirely powerless.
Being Able to Begin Again
Control is not only the right to stop.
It is also the right to begin again.
The child may need a pause during a conversation.
Go outside.
Drink water.
Draw for a while.
And later say:
“Now we can continue.”
The child is then no longer only the person being carried through a process.
The child participates in regulating it.
The adult must tolerate a slower pace.
A conversation that does not follow the plan.
Something that must be returned to another day.
The system wants efficiency.
The child may need rhythm.
Stop.
Rest.
Begin again.
Healing rarely moves in a straight line.
When the Child Chooses Something We Dislike
The child’s choices will not always seem wise from the adult’s perspective.
The child chooses the same jumper every day.
Wants to sit alone.
Chooses food the adult considers unhealthy.
Refuses to join the planned activity.
The adult may feel a need to correct.
Sometimes that is necessary.
Children need guidance, variety, and boundaries.
But not every choice must be improved.
Some choices may be allowed to stand simply because they belong to the child.
The same jumper may provide safety.
The place alone may offer necessary rest.
The familiar food may be the only thing the child can manage that day.
Respecting a choice does not mean agreeing with everything.
It means allowing the child to experience that adults do not take over every part of life.
When Choices Have Consequences
The child also needs to learn that choices have consequences.
The child may choose not to bring a coat.
Then the child becomes cold.
The child may choose to spend the money now.
Then it is gone later.
The adult may allow the child to experience smaller consequences when it is safe.
Not always rescue.
Not always overrule.
But neither use the consequence to humiliate.
“I told you that you would be cold.”
The adult can instead say:
“You chose to leave the coat behind, and now you are cold. Let us work out what we can do.”
Responsibility develops without abandonment.
Control and responsibility belong together.
But responsibility must be appropriate to the child’s age and capacity.
The child should carry what can be learned from.
Not what crushes.
Choice and Neurodiversity
Not all children express choices in the same way.
Some use few words.
Some need a long time to answer.
Some become overwhelmed by open questions.
“What would you like to do?” may be too large.
The adult may make it more concrete:
“Would you like to draw or go for a walk?”
Pictures, symbols, or objects may be used.
The child may point.
Look towards something.
Push it away.
Children with significant disabilities also have preferences.
They show them through gaze, sounds, movement, breathing, and muscle tension.
The adult’s task is to learn the language.
Not assume that lack of speech means lack of will.
The more dependent the child is, the greater the risk that others make every decision.
And the more important it becomes to discover where the child can genuinely choose.
When the Adult Must Decide
There are situations in which adults must act without the child’s consent.
The danger is serious.
The child must be moved.
Treatment must be given.
Contact must be limited.
The child may protest strongly.
Returning control does not mean that adults withdraw from responsibility.
But the adult can distinguish between the decision itself and the way it is carried out.
The decision has been made:
You will live here for now.
But perhaps the child can choose:
Who will drive.
What will be packed first.
Which teddy bear will come.
Whether to enter through the front door or the garden.
Whether to eat with the family or in the bedroom on the first evening.
The major decision was not the child’s.
But the implementation does not have to happen entirely without the child.
Being Informed Before Others
Children may experience everyone else knowing something about their lives before they do.
Teachers.
Foster parents.
Caseworkers.
Family members.
The adults have had meetings.
The child notices the looks.
But no one has explained.
This can feel humiliating.
My life has become information shared between other people.
Giving the child dignity means, as far as possible, explaining what will be shared and with whom.
“I am going to speak with your teacher about your need for breaks.”
“I will not tell the whole story.”
“Would you like to know exactly what I am going to say?”
The child cannot always decide who receives necessary information.
But the child does not have to be surprised.
Knowing what other people know returns a small part of control.
The Words Used About the Child
Control also includes the right to influence how one is described.
The child may read, or have explained, what is being written.
“I have written that you became angry and left the room. Is there anything important I have missed?”
The child may say:
“I did not leave because I was angry. I left because I thought he was going to hit me.”
The difference is crucial.
The professional has an assessment.
But the child’s experience must also have a place.
The documents follow the child.
They shape how future adults will see the child.
As far as age and circumstances allow, the child should therefore be able to recognise themselves in the text.
Not necessarily agree with everything.
But know that the voice did not disappear when the case was written down.
The Choice to Tell
A child cannot always decide whether serious information must be passed on.
But the child can have influence over how this happens.
“Would you like to say it yourself, or would you like me to begin?”
“Would you like to be in the room when I tell them?”
“Shall we write it down together?”
“Would you like the trusted adult to sit beside you?”
The child can also be told:
“You do not have to repeat every detail to everyone.”
This matters because the story belongs to the child, even when adults have a duty to act.
Sharing a story should not mean losing all control over it.
The Child’s Private Inner Room
A child needs something that is not available to every adult.
Thoughts.
Dreams.
Drawings.
A diary.
A place in the mind that does not have to become the subject of investigation.
The helping system may become so eager to understand that everything the child does is interpreted.
A drawing is analysed.
A word is recorded.
A game becomes a symptom.
The child may feel that nothing remains private.
But participation also includes the right to keep something to oneself.
Not serious danger that adults must know about.
But an inner room that belongs to the child.
Help does not require complete access in order to be effective.
A human being is always more than what others understand.
The child too.
Reclaiming Joy
Control after trauma is not only about avoiding what is unwanted.
It is also about being able to choose something good.
Which game.
Which music.
Whom to sit beside.
What to learn.
Where to go for a walk.
The child’s life must not be organised only around harm, risk, and treatment.
The child needs positive choices.
Something that is not primarily therapeutic.
Something that is enjoyable simply because it is enjoyable.
Trauma made the world narrow.
Help must not make it even narrower by allowing the whole of everyday life to revolve around trauma.
The child needs areas in which to discover:
I like this.
I am good at this.
I want more of this.
This is also how a future is built.
When Control Can Gradually Be Shared
The child who initially needed to control everything may gradually learn that control can be shared.
The adult chooses dinner today.
The child chooses tomorrow.
The plan changes, but the child is told in advance.
Another adult collects the child, but the familiar adult has explained why.
The child dares to let someone else look after the school bag.
Leaves the door slightly open.
Tries a new food.
These may be significant steps.
Not because the goal is obedience.
But because the child is beginning to trust that the world can be carried together with other people.
The need for control does not lessen primarily through struggle.
It lessens when the child repeatedly experiences that allowing others influence does not mean becoming powerless.
The Adult’s Patience
It can be demanding to offer choices.
Everything takes longer.
The adult must explain.
Wait.
Repeat.
Tolerate changes of mind.
At the same time, daily life cannot function if everything is constantly negotiated.
The child therefore needs adults who are both flexible and clear.
“You can choose between these two.”
“This has already been decided.”
“You do not have to decide now.”
“I will choose for you this time, and I will explain why.”
This clarity can also create safety.
The child does not have to wonder where the power lies.
Care does not become an endless negotiation.
But neither does it become a system in which the child is never asked.
Dignity Without Full Self-Determination
Children do not have full self-determination.
They are dependent.
They need adults to take responsibility.
But dependence does not mean dignity must wait until adulthood.
A child can be treated as a subject even when the adult decides.
This happens when the child receives information.
When the protest is heard.
When choices are offered.
When decisions are explained.
When the adult acknowledges the loss caused by the decision.
When the child is not expected to feel grateful for interventions they did not want.
Dignity does not mean that the child always gets their own way.
It means that the child is never reduced to something adults may simply move, examine, or organise.
Becoming an Active Person in One’s Own Life
Trauma can make the child an object of other people’s actions.
Someone harmed.
Someone rescued.
Someone examined.
Someone moved.
Someone treated.
The child became the person things happened to.
Healing involves gradually becoming active again.
I can do something.
Choose something.
Ask for something.
Reject something.
Influence something.
Create something.
This may begin in very small ways.
The child chooses the colour of the cup.
Later, the child chooses how a difficult conversation should begin.
One day, the child speaks before the body explodes.
Another day, the child asks for help.
Agency grows through being used.
Not as total control over life.
But as the experience of being a person within life, not merely an object in other people’s plans.
Giving the Child a Small Part of the World Back
We cannot return what should never have been taken.
We cannot undo what happened.
We cannot restore childhood exactly as it might have been.
We cannot promise that the child will never again face powerlessness.
But we can return something.
A choice.
An explanation.
A pause.
A key to the room.
The right to say stop.
The possibility of changing one’s mind.
Knowledge of what will happen.
A place at the table when plans are made.
Language for personal boundaries.
An experience of an adult changing their actions when the child speaks.
Each thing is small.
Together, they may change the child’s relationship with the world.
When the World Responds
A child says:
“I do not want the door completely closed.”
The adult leaves it slightly open.
The child says:
“Do not sit so close.”
The adult moves the chair.
The child says:
“I need a break.”
The conversation stops.
The child says:
“I want my foster mother to be there.”
She is invited into the room.
The child discovers something:
My words move the world.
Not always.
Not in everything.
But sometimes.
This is a fundamental human experience.
We all need to experience that what we express can reach another person and matter.
For a child who has lived with powerlessness, this experience may be deeply healing.
Control That Can Become Trust
The goal is not for the child to keep control over everything.
A life in which everything must be controlled is also a prison.
The child eventually needs to be able to rest.
Allow someone else to find the way.
Sleep without watching the door.
Eat without hiding food.
Trust that the adult will return.
But the path to trust rarely begins by taking control away from the child once more.
It begins by giving the child enough control.
Enough to know that boundaries exist.
Enough to experience that no is heard.
Enough to see that other people can exercise power without abusing it.
Only then can the child gradually let go of some of it.
Not because the child is forced.
But because the child no longer needs to hold on so tightly.
A Small Part
The adult cannot hand the whole world over to the child.
That would not be care.
The child needs structure.
Protection.
Guidance.
Someone who makes the difficult decisions.
But within that structure, there is often a small part the child can own.
A chair.
A time.
A blanket.
A pause.
A person who will be present.
A way of saying stop.
An object that comes along.
A word in the report.
A question that can wait.
It may seem small.
But perhaps this is how dignity returns.
Not as a grand declaration.
But through many small experiences of no longer being completely powerless.
Being the One Who Chooses
Trauma may have taught the child:
You must adapt to what others do.
You must endure.
Remain silent.
Wait.
Survive.
Good help may slowly teach something else:
You can notice.
You can express a wish.
You can say no.
You can ask for a pause.
You can choose between possibilities.
You can influence how help is given.
You can participate in your own life.
The child should still be a child.
The child should not carry responsibilities that belong to adults.
But neither should the child be stripped of all authority simply because protection is needed.
The Small Spaces of Dignity
Dignity often exists in the small spaces between what is necessary and what is possible.
The examination must take place.
But the child may choose who is present.
The move must happen.
But the child may pack the most important object personally.
The conversation must be held.
But the child may choose where to sit.
The information must be shared.
But the child may know what will be said.
The boundary must be set.
But it can be set without humiliation.
This is where professional ethics becomes concrete.
Not only in major decisions.
But in the way the door is opened.
The chair is placed.
The pause is respected.
And the child’s answer is allowed to change what can genuinely be changed.
Giving the Child the World Back
No adult owns the child’s life.
Not the parents.
Not the foster parents.
Not the therapist.
Not child protection services.
Not the school.
Adults carry responsibility for a time.
They protect.
Guide.
Set boundaries.
Make decisions.
But the goal cannot be for the child to remain under their control.
The goal is for the child gradually to gain greater ownership of their own life.
To recognise personal needs.
Set boundaries.
Make choices.
Carry responsibility appropriate to age.
Seek help without losing the self.
One day, the child will no longer need adults to decide in the same way.
Help must then have offered more than protection.
It must have practised freedom.
Giving the Child a Small Part of the World Back
A child has experienced the world coming too close.
Other people taking too much.
Words failing to stop what was happening.
Decisions being made without the child.
We cannot always give the child full control.
But we can refuse to make powerlessness greater than necessary.
We can ask when we can.
Explain when we must decide.
Give time when possible.
Stop when the child says stop.
Share power without giving up responsibility.
And take the child’s choices seriously, even when the choice concerns only the red cup or the blue one.
Because perhaps no choice is entirely small when a person has long experienced that nothing they wanted made any difference.
The red cup.
The chair by the window.
The door left slightly open.
The foster mother in the room.
The pause in the middle of the conversation.
Each one may say:
You exist here.
Your will is not invisible.
This world does not belong only to the adults.
A small part of it is yours too.
You exist here.
Your will is not invisible.
This world does not belong only to the adults.
A small part of it is yours too.
This essay was developed after years helping children in difficult situations in life as a professional sosial worker and lectures on this subject for students. OpenAI/ChatGPT made the illustration.
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