The Role of Belonging in Foster Parent Mental Health

Reflections on Foster Care, Belonging, and the Power of Being Understood

WHAT. A. WEEKEND.

I often describe myself as an introverted extrovert. I can be outgoing, I love connecting with people, and I’m usually willing to put myself out there. But put me in a large crowd of people I don’t know? Instant discomfort. Overwhelm kicks in. My nervous system goes on high alert. You’ll usually find me standing off to the side, sitting alone, or quietly planning my exit.

This weekend, that version of me showed up in full force.

I attended the Filled Gathering, hosted by Foster the Family, in Lancaster, PA — a conference of roughly 1,200 foster and adoptive moms. I didn’t know anyone going. I stayed in an Airbnb with strangers (thank you, extroverted self, for responding to a post about an open room). And I walked into a packed event center knowing my social battery would be tested.

And yet… I felt seen, heard, and understood in a way that’s hard to put into words.

Being Around “Your People” Hits Different

As a therapist who specializes in working with foster and adoptive parents, I talk a lot about community, belonging, and being understood. I know — clinically and personally — how isolating this life can feel. But knowing something intellectually is very different from feeling it in your body.

This weekend reminded me of that.

I didn’t suddenly become a social butterfly. I ate lunch and dinner alone every night. I didn’t collect dozens of new contacts or fill my schedule with plans. But the few connections I did make felt real, grounding, and deeply nourishing.

There’s something powerful about being in a room where you don’t have to explain yourself. Where people already understand the grief, the complexity, the love, the exhaustion, and the emotional weight that comes with foster and adoptive parenting.

One sentence I heard over the weekend captured it perfectly:

“Foster parents need a new word for tired. We’re not just tired — this is a lifestyle.”

If you know, you know.

Nervous System Safety Isn’t Always Quiet

One of the things I talk about often in my work is nervous system regulation — how safety isn’t just about calm, quiet spaces. Sometimes safety looks like being surrounded by people who get it. People who don’t minimize your experience or offer platitudes. People who don’t flinch when you talk about the hard stuff.

Ironically, even in a loud, crowded conference center, my nervous system felt more regulated than it often does in everyday life.

Why? Because I wasn’t bracing myself to be misunderstood.

As foster and adoptive parents, we spend so much time navigating systems, advocating for children, holding trauma, managing uncertainty, and making impossible decisions. Our bodies are constantly adapting. Hypervigilance becomes normal. Exhaustion becomes baseline. And too often, we carry all of that alone.

Belonging — true belonging — offers a kind of nervous system exhale that no coping skill can fully replace.

The Magic of the Kitchen Table

One of my favorite moments from the weekend didn’t happen at the conference at all.

It happened at the kitchen table in our Airbnb.

Before the chaos of returning to the event center, we sat together — women who had been strangers to me just hours before — talking about life, fostering, relationships, family dynamics, and the parts of ourselves that often get lost in the shuffle. No stage. No microphones. Just honest conversation and shared understanding.

This is something I see again and again in my work: healing often happens in ordinary moments, when we feel safe enough to be honest.

Not performative connection. Not forced vulnerability. Just real, human presence.

Conversations That Matter

The workshops were thoughtful and meaningful, but one topic that stood out for me was how to talk with children about their biological family. This is an area that carries so much emotional weight for foster and adoptive parents — and for good reason.

These conversations often stir up grief, fear, loyalty conflicts, and our own unresolved feelings. Being in a room where this complexity was acknowledged — not oversimplified — mattered. It reinforced something I tell clients often: there is no “right” way to do this perfectly. There is only attunement, honesty, and repair.

Again, it was the shared understanding that made the difference.

A Drive Home Full of Reflection

On the drive home, I felt emotionally full in a way that’s hard to describe. Tired, yes — but the good kind. The kind that comes from being deeply seen.

I kept thinking about how powerful it was to be around people who knew exactly how I have felt in my darkest moments — without me having to explain or justify those feelings.

As a therapist, I know how critical psychological safety is. As a foster parent, I felt it in my bones this weekend.

Why This Matters (Professionally and Personally)

This experience reinforced why I do the work I do.

Foster and adoptive parents don’t just need more information. They need spaces where they feel understood. They need support that acknowledges the emotional and nervous system impact of this life. They need community that doesn’t require them to shrink, explain, or pretend they’re okay when they’re not.

If you’re a foster or adoptive parent reading this, my hope is that you feel a little less alone. That you’re reminded how important it is to find — or create — spaces where you can exhale.

And if you’re someone who supports foster and adoptive families, I hope this serves as a reminder: belonging is not a luxury. It’s a protective factor. For caregivers. For families. For children.

This weekend filled my cup in ways I didn’t realize I needed. And I know I’ll be back.

Because sometimes the most powerful thing we can offer — and receive — is simply being understood.