If you're asking yourself
if you have a trauma kid, you probably do. I can't say what they all look
like, but I'll throw out some examples of our trauma kid experiences to help.
- It's a perfectly happy day, and TK (trauma kid) trips over a cat. She screams at the top of her lungs, "I hate you, Mom, this is all your fault!" Then she knocks everything off the counter next to her, except for the metal bowl, which she throws as hard as she can at you. (Trauma parents have great reflexes). She continues screaming, "I hate you, you're the worst mom ever." She runs to her room, slamming the door, still screaming. You hear things being thrown and quite possibly breaking. All pretty typical in a trauma house.
- TK is playing with a friend. The friend won't share a toy, and TK goes into full on trauma mode. She hits the friend, and runs to you screaming, "I want to go home. I hate it here! I hate this kid. I hope she dies!"
- TK comes home from school, and heads to her room. En route she knocks everything off the shelf and kicks the dog. She goes to her room, slams the door and throws her backpack at the door.
By now you're thinking, "wow, what a brat." Nope, just
a scared kid. I know, it's hard to process, but it's true. Check
out Heather Forbes' stuff at BeyondConsequences.com. She can explain the
science and brain chemistry of trauma. I can too, but that's not my goal here.
My goal is to touch your heart, not your brain.
How did I react to these things? Before I knew what trauma
was, I did the "normal" stuff. I screamed back, I spanked her, I
grounded her. When I screamed back, she screamed louder. When I spanked
her, she shut down or hit me harder.When I grounded her she broke everything
she could get her hands on and threatened me. Basically we went off the
cliff together, both totally out of control. The crash at the bottom was awful,
and we'd inevitably end up both broken, crying, lost.
Then I learned about trauma. And I learned she was scared, not
bad. I remember the day I picked her up at school and she told me, "Mom, I
know you're always coming to get me, but sometimes I'm scared you're not."
My heart broke a little that day. It really sunk in....my sweet
daughter is terrified that she will again be lost and alone, unloved, no one
taking care of her. How can I be mad at fear?
It's not a magic charm. I still get angry and sometimes I lose
it. But I rarely scream, and I never spank anymore. I try to be in the moment
with her - that might mean sitting in the aisle at Target while she
screams like a banshee, holding her and telling her how much I love her (all
the while trying and failing to ignore the folks walking by saying things like,
"I would never put up with that behavior. She should spank that
child."). It might mean telling her teacher that homework didn't
happen that night because she was "done" after a day full of
challenges of self control. It DOES mean surrendering all my old ideas of
"good" parenting. It DOES mean sometimes making her world
"small", turning down invitations or cancelling plans at the last
minute, because at the moment she needs me to realize she doesn't have enough
left to deal with the outside world. It DOES mean a lot of deep breathing, a
lot of crying, a lot of screwing up, a lot of praying, and a lot of patience.
It DOES mean I am growing and doing it better. It DOES mean our family is
healing. It DOES mean giving myself a little grace.
Give yourself some too.
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