Hayden Cedric Dawes, PhD.
Researcher - Therapist - Speaker

reflections

Reflections—A Space for Inquiry

Reflections—A Space for Inquiry

This is where I share my thoughts —reflective, and always evolving. Here, you'll find musings on mental health, human rights, cultural humility, and the intersections of identity and well-being. Some posts will be deeply personal, others will be grounded in research, and a few might just be me offering some insights.

As a clinician, researcher, and educator, I believe in the power of inquiry. This space is an extension of that belief—a place to engage, challenge, and grow. Whether I’m exploring Radical Permission, breaking down the latest study, or just processing the world around me, I invite you to join in by commenting or sharing these musings. Let’s build understanding, ask hard questions, and maybe even laugh a little along the way.

All that I ask is that if one of these posts sparks something in you, please share it with one person.

May we all be well.

 

My Mama Dawes

Whenever my mother picks up her phone and sees me on the caller ID, she knows my mood in a millisecond by feeling my energy, without me speaking.  No matter if I’ve lost my cool with her (or anyone else) for the entirety of the conversation by regressing to my adolescent years—blaming her, everyone and everything—for my pain or sorrow, my mother, Jennifer Rose Nelson Dawes (aka Mama Dawes), ends every call with how much she loves me and how proud of me she is. At this point, it’s hard to let this sentiment land with me, especially when I may not be proud of my actions. Even after all the years of therapy and hours of meditation, my more volatile emotions often get the best of me when speaking to my mother. Yet, she remains steadfast in her fierce, unconditional love.

With my current losses, I’ve become keenly aware how the time I share with my loved ones will always feel too short. My heart hurts when I think of how my path has limited the time I’ve been able to spend with my family. I think of many of my friends, whose mothers are no longer on this plane of existence, or those who have complicated and challenging relationships with their mother figures, and it all makes me want to hold Mama Dawes even tighter. Grasping my chest in fear of the moment when I physically can’t.

On their first—let me make sure my baby is okay—trip to Philadelphia, I felt not just my need for my parents but also my deep reverence. Much of my drive and ambition comes from my father, but the seeds of my wisdom are from my mother. She was the first to tell me there is more to this world than what can be seen or touched. That love and faith are real, and they provide everything. That prayer has power. She showed me you could have 20 hobbies and take classes in all of them. She consistently demonstrated dignity in all of life’s challenges. She has lived by the mantra Desiderata and proclaimed its messages with her whole heart and body. Mama Dawes has an unparalleled fierceness.

In 1986, as a newlywed, my mother left her home country of England with three children, one of them a newborn (me), and bravely stepped into a new life in a country that was not her own. She has been the self-described family manager ever since. As I’ve been undergoing my transformation, I am struck and in awe of the faith it must have taken for her to take that step. I am grateful for her example of letting life lead you. 

While parading my parents around my new professional home, a beautiful, idyllic place, I realized that honoring my mother right now means living fully into the life she and my father sacrificed for me to have. And to do so generously and fiercely regarding myself and all others by resting on the foundation of the unconditional love that has been freely given.

Hayden Dawes