DunDunDunDunDunDunDunDun.....It is worse than the film that kept you out of the ocean.....it is....
THE BEGINNING OF SUMMER VACATION!
Yep, it's the beginning of 11 weeks of trying to keep TK regulated without the comfort of the routine and predictability of school. And while she is thrilled to be out of school and free to do "whatever I want - whoo hoo!", I am trying to avert the incipient panic that always hits me when long stretches of unstructured time lie in front of us.
Transitions are hard for TKs. That's just a fact. And while they are not as hard as they were before, they are still hard. Transitioning from seeing your friends almost every day, having a structure, getting loved on by various teachers, and feeling successful at something to not having any of that is an abrupt shock to the system. And as we know (and if you don't, heed well), even good change is hard (which absolutely stinks, because it is so unfair that going on vacation guarantees a meltdown or two or thirty).
I admit I am setting myself up a bit. I know it, and I'm still doing it. Every year when school ends we have unlimited TV/computer/iPad for one week. Yes, this is not the best thing for a TK. It is both overstimulating and understimulating at the same time. Luckily TK gets bored with it so we intersperse it with trampoline (with Mom, of course), swimming (without Mom because the pool is still FREEZING), basketball, etc, so there is still some regulation through movement. So why, you ask, do I do it if I know it will discombobulate her? Because it makes the beginning of the transition easier. So when we are both floundering with the full stop of school, we get to have some space and time without being on top of each other. So yes, I will pay for it later, but in a week I'll be mentally ready (well,as ready as you ever are) for the drama. And I say that unashamedly....sometimes you are allowed to pick the path of least resistance. You can't be a hero every day, and that's okay.
We had an eventful start to our summer transition. A friend of ours with a Trauma Toddler (TT) had a child care crisis, and TK and I talked about how we could help. TK wanted us to babysit Fri (her first day off from school). I told her she'd have to get up early and she said we needed to do it, she understood him, she knew he was scared and she thought it would help if he was with us and not someone else. I was so proud of her. I told her I would have to lavish more attention on TT than on her, and she said okay. (I knew it wouldn't be that easy, but getting out of the comfort zone is a good thing as long as it is done carefully and knowing the aftermath is coming). Friday went well - she was so good with TT, and she was very pleased and proud of herself for sharing Mom. It was beautiful to see the compassion and grace coming from her. On to Friday night......a little aftermath. She had gymnastics and about 2/3 of the way through she came off the floor and said she needed to leave and started crying. So we left. When we got home, she sat next to me on the couch for 2 hours and snuggled while we watched TV. She ended up in my bed about 2 AM, which was not surprising. Not too bad so far, but I was pretty sure the storm was still brewing.
Sat AM (after an uneventful time at gymnastics) we went to Target to spend some birthday $ she had. She was a few cents short for what she wanted to buy. I asked her if she needed to ask me something (i.e., can I borrow 5 cents) but she said, "Never MIND!" and stomped over to the exit door. When we got to the car she started throwing things from the front seat to the back seat (these are the moments I need to remind myself that I am grateful she's not throwing them at me, but I didn't). I ditched Trauma Mama mode and went into Summer Panic mode. "I don't know what your problem is, but you can just get over your snit right now." (Imagine, that didn't work so well. Shocking, I know). I knew immediately I had not reacted in a regulated way that would make her feel understood and defuse things, but sometimes my brain just says, "Let's dance, Sister." We did regroup - she asked for a re-do as we left the library, and I said yes, of course. (I always say yes, but sometimes it takes me a good while to actually get to a re-do state). On the 25 minute ride home she was totally silent (not even Taylor Swift on the CD player, which is a rarity). I struggled to get into that place of compassion. After about 15 minutes, I took a deep mental breath and said, "I'm sorry you're upset. I wish I could just know what's in your head and your heart so I would know why you're upset, but I can't, so if you want me to know you have to tell me. If you don't want me to know, that's okay too. I love you." She didn't say anything, but about 5 minutes later she started talking about mundane stuff, so I knew we were back in regulation mode. Re-dos are definitely grace in action. They are so powerful, and so easy (and so hard) to do. I still don't know what was wrong. I am pretty certain the combo of trauma and puberty may put me in the loony bin, however.
A side note......when I mentioned to a group of friends that we were watching TT on Friday, they said things like, "Good, TK will get a taste of her own medicine." I did NOT use that opportunity for education. (I did later go into rant mode, though just in my head....."That is just ridiculous. Trauma is fear in action, not a 'I'm not getting my way so let me throw a tantrum' thing. Watching another kid have a trauma meltdown may be a cause for compassion and understanding but it is NOT a 'see how ridiculous you look when you do this' moment. There is no 'medicine' to be had here - there is just education and love.") It made me sad......obviously to them it's still a behavior issue and not a fear issue. I don't know how to convey that understanding. I'll keep working on that.
Give yourselves some extra grace for the summer, Trauma Mamas. It's most likely going to be a very bumpy ride. It's okay to take the easy way out sometimes, so give yourselves the permission to do that. Grab the small graces where you can. You're going to blow it - sometimes even on purpose. That's okay - give yourself a re-do when you need one. Only 77 days til school starts.......
Sunday, May 24, 2015
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Happy Mother's Day - better yet, Happy Warrior's Day
As a trauma mama, I try to minimize holidays (except for the ones that center around Trauma Kid (TK), like her Gotcha Day and birthday). The high expectations around holidays almost guarantee a meltdown.
We made it through Mother's Day relatively unscathed......up to a point. The day started early....extra early if you count the two times she was up with nightmares and the 3 AM wander into my bed. I gave up and got up at 6; she soon followed. We had plans to try out a new church today, but she told me she wasn't ready so I let it go. I was doing my best to keep things on an even keel. We went to run a few errands and all was good (largely because the errands centered around spending HOURS shopping to spend her gift cards from her birthday party yesterday). After we got home she started crying. "Mom, I didn't ask anyone to take me shopping to get you something for Mother's Day. I didn't have a chance to get you anything." I told her honestly I would love a handwritten note more than a present. That seemed to work, but I could feel the ghost of tumult in the air.
We headed outside where I spent 3 hours bailing out the remaining water in the pool (because of course the drain is on the uphill side.....it was level when I put it up, but it settled the wrong way, of course), scrubbing off the algae and fishing out the 100 dead worms. This took longer than it should have since TK was on the trampoline with the sprinkler yelling, "Mom, watch this!" every 5 minutes. And I did. My goal was to keep that ghost of tumult in the neverworld, so I did my best to stay regulated and emotionally engaged.
Fast forward through a relatively calm evening to 8PM - 1/2 hour before bedtime. TK told me she would cook whatever I wanted, so what did I want. I told her I appreciated the offer, but wasn't really hungry. She stormed off to her room, where she upended almost everything in there. I knew I should follow her in, but I needed time to get regulated. Because yes, I was frustrated......REALLY frustrated. Why on earth is me not being hungry cause for a meltdown? (yeah, yeah, I know, rejection.....but SERIOUSLY!) I was exhausted, hurting (my fibromyalgia has been killing me the last two weeks, but I've been ignoring it and pushing through, because what choice is there?), and some small part of me still felt entitled to some sort of Mother's Day dispensation from trauma stuff. (I know, but a girl can dream.) I went in and apologized for hurting her feelings; she told me to "Get the hint and get out!", so I did. I know I should have followed up a few minutes later, letting her know I was still there, still loving her, but I didn't. To her credit, she came out about 15 minutes later, started banging pots and pans and told me she was making me something special. (It is now 10 mins before bedtime). She brought me a piece of bologna smothered (like 1/4" deep) in thyme and basil. I told her I loved the combo but it was a bit too herby for me, She snatched the plate from me, threw it in the sink (thank you, Lord, it didn't break). To my surprise, she made me a new one (oh goody) with less herbs on it. (Luckily the cats were nearby and are big fans of bologna!) I told her it was past bedtime and to get herself ready. More banging, more tossing of things into the sink, and a slammed door from TK. More sighing and praying for patience from me.
I waited a few minutes, trying (and failing) to get myself into a regulated compassionate state. When I got in her room, I asked if she wanted help picking up all the things on the floor (including the pillow and the blanket). "What do YOU think? Does it LOOK like I want them on my bed?" Flip goes my switch (mental dialogue epic fail - "Happy mother's day my foot. Thanks for spending hours taking me shopping, mom. Thanks for cleaning the pool in 90 degrees so I can swim next week". The only grace I mustered at that point was not saying it out loud. Meager, I grant you, but I'm still claiming it.) I left her room, told her I'd be back when she was ready to be nice, and went out to fold laundry and sulk (sad but true). She wandered out about 10 minutes later, tear stained and sniffling. "Are you going to read to me?" So I did. She told me she was upset that I didn't ask her what was wrong. She's right, I didn't. I assumed she was angry about my rejecting her food offer. But I didn't ask, and there was probably something else going on. So epic fail on my part. I asked her then, but it was too late. She had decided I didn't care and was going to stay in that place.
After I read I told her I loved her face and everything attached to it, and she giggled a little. Then I patted her and kissed her and she fell asleep.
I'm not sure how to sum it up, other than to reiterate how much I hate holidays. There were some sweet moments, some epic failures (largely on my part) and some small graces (like giggles at bedtime). And after we get through her birthday this week, we have a break until we wade the murky sea of Father's Day (always a challenge when you don't have one). That is, of course, ignoring the end of school, the change in routine, the "what do I do" of summer (but if I start to think about that now I will hyperventilate, so I'm choosing to ignore it).
Happy Mother's Day, Trauma Mamas. I hope you got through your day with larger graces than I; if not, grab those small ones and hold on tight.
We need another, quiet day, with no expectations, no pressure, and NO DRAMA! We'll call it Warrior Day. I declare it to be tomorrow. So take some time tomorrow to appreciate you, mighty warrior, fighting this fight for your TK, going to the mat day after day, rising above your own traumas to conquer theirs, and always, always, choosing the greatest weapon of all - love.
You are all my heroes, and you are your TK's heroes. Find the grace in knowing you are exactly what your TK needs. No matter how badly you blow it, they feel the love under it all, and that is enough.
Wake up tomorrow and tell yourself happy Warrior Day!
We made it through Mother's Day relatively unscathed......up to a point. The day started early....extra early if you count the two times she was up with nightmares and the 3 AM wander into my bed. I gave up and got up at 6; she soon followed. We had plans to try out a new church today, but she told me she wasn't ready so I let it go. I was doing my best to keep things on an even keel. We went to run a few errands and all was good (largely because the errands centered around spending HOURS shopping to spend her gift cards from her birthday party yesterday). After we got home she started crying. "Mom, I didn't ask anyone to take me shopping to get you something for Mother's Day. I didn't have a chance to get you anything." I told her honestly I would love a handwritten note more than a present. That seemed to work, but I could feel the ghost of tumult in the air.
We headed outside where I spent 3 hours bailing out the remaining water in the pool (because of course the drain is on the uphill side.....it was level when I put it up, but it settled the wrong way, of course), scrubbing off the algae and fishing out the 100 dead worms. This took longer than it should have since TK was on the trampoline with the sprinkler yelling, "Mom, watch this!" every 5 minutes. And I did. My goal was to keep that ghost of tumult in the neverworld, so I did my best to stay regulated and emotionally engaged.
Fast forward through a relatively calm evening to 8PM - 1/2 hour before bedtime. TK told me she would cook whatever I wanted, so what did I want. I told her I appreciated the offer, but wasn't really hungry. She stormed off to her room, where she upended almost everything in there. I knew I should follow her in, but I needed time to get regulated. Because yes, I was frustrated......REALLY frustrated. Why on earth is me not being hungry cause for a meltdown? (yeah, yeah, I know, rejection.....but SERIOUSLY!) I was exhausted, hurting (my fibromyalgia has been killing me the last two weeks, but I've been ignoring it and pushing through, because what choice is there?), and some small part of me still felt entitled to some sort of Mother's Day dispensation from trauma stuff. (I know, but a girl can dream.) I went in and apologized for hurting her feelings; she told me to "Get the hint and get out!", so I did. I know I should have followed up a few minutes later, letting her know I was still there, still loving her, but I didn't. To her credit, she came out about 15 minutes later, started banging pots and pans and told me she was making me something special. (It is now 10 mins before bedtime). She brought me a piece of bologna smothered (like 1/4" deep) in thyme and basil. I told her I loved the combo but it was a bit too herby for me, She snatched the plate from me, threw it in the sink (thank you, Lord, it didn't break). To my surprise, she made me a new one (oh goody) with less herbs on it. (Luckily the cats were nearby and are big fans of bologna!) I told her it was past bedtime and to get herself ready. More banging, more tossing of things into the sink, and a slammed door from TK. More sighing and praying for patience from me.
I waited a few minutes, trying (and failing) to get myself into a regulated compassionate state. When I got in her room, I asked if she wanted help picking up all the things on the floor (including the pillow and the blanket). "What do YOU think? Does it LOOK like I want them on my bed?" Flip goes my switch (mental dialogue epic fail - "Happy mother's day my foot. Thanks for spending hours taking me shopping, mom. Thanks for cleaning the pool in 90 degrees so I can swim next week". The only grace I mustered at that point was not saying it out loud. Meager, I grant you, but I'm still claiming it.) I left her room, told her I'd be back when she was ready to be nice, and went out to fold laundry and sulk (sad but true). She wandered out about 10 minutes later, tear stained and sniffling. "Are you going to read to me?" So I did. She told me she was upset that I didn't ask her what was wrong. She's right, I didn't. I assumed she was angry about my rejecting her food offer. But I didn't ask, and there was probably something else going on. So epic fail on my part. I asked her then, but it was too late. She had decided I didn't care and was going to stay in that place.
After I read I told her I loved her face and everything attached to it, and she giggled a little. Then I patted her and kissed her and she fell asleep.
I'm not sure how to sum it up, other than to reiterate how much I hate holidays. There were some sweet moments, some epic failures (largely on my part) and some small graces (like giggles at bedtime). And after we get through her birthday this week, we have a break until we wade the murky sea of Father's Day (always a challenge when you don't have one). That is, of course, ignoring the end of school, the change in routine, the "what do I do" of summer (but if I start to think about that now I will hyperventilate, so I'm choosing to ignore it).
Happy Mother's Day, Trauma Mamas. I hope you got through your day with larger graces than I; if not, grab those small ones and hold on tight.
We need another, quiet day, with no expectations, no pressure, and NO DRAMA! We'll call it Warrior Day. I declare it to be tomorrow. So take some time tomorrow to appreciate you, mighty warrior, fighting this fight for your TK, going to the mat day after day, rising above your own traumas to conquer theirs, and always, always, choosing the greatest weapon of all - love.
You are all my heroes, and you are your TK's heroes. Find the grace in knowing you are exactly what your TK needs. No matter how badly you blow it, they feel the love under it all, and that is enough.
Wake up tomorrow and tell yourself happy Warrior Day!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)