This past weekend was my Adventure weekend - just me and a bunch of Girl Scout leaders ziplining, tree climbing, doing the high ropes, canoeing, etc. Fri evening through Sunday afternoon- only grownups acting like kids. That was the plan........
Trauma Kid (TK) has been, no surprise, anxious about my trip. We've talked about the plan a lot the last 3 weeks. She was going to stay with our Dear Friend (DF), who is more aunt than friend to her. DF's family had plans to surround TK with love and fun so she would be okay. A few nights before the trip, DF came over for dinner and we 3 discussed the trip and any concerns TK had. TK told DF, "I just don't totally trust you yet." DF didn't react (kudos!) but she and I discussed it later after I talked with TK about it. TK told me what she meant....."Mom, Ms. M (her friend/therapist with whom she stayed last year) couldn't handle it when I had a complete fear breakdown, so how can I expect DF to handle it?" DF has never seen/been part of a full-fledged trauma meltdown. She has seen bits of them and has learned a lot, but she hasn't had to deal head on with the complete fear that overtakes TK sometimes. I told TK she was older, more capable of handling her fears, better able to express her needs, and I had confidence she'd be fine. She did mention multiple times that she wished I weren't going, but she never asked me not to go. Compared to the hours of sobbing and pleading last year, this was huge.
Two days before my trip I ducked into the Walk in clinic and confirmed my fears - I have shingles. Knowing this was just the beginning of it, odds were the pain would increase significantly over the next few days. So I decided to wait and go to the camp early Sat AM. Friday I slept in my own comfy bed, medicated for pain. Early Sat DF came over and I headed out. TK wouldn't give me a kiss but said, "Bye, Mom." I expected this....I was just happy she didn't freak.
Saturday was a much toned down experience from the previous year. Between the shingles pain and the fact that the harness for ziplining and other adventure things would rub right on the blisters, I switched to things like screen printing, tie dying and archery. It was still fun to hang with the friends I made last year, but the pain was definitely hampering my fun a lot. I talked to TK during the day and she was having a blast.
Sat about 9PM my phone rang...it was TK, in tears. 'It's too hard, Mom. I'm too scared without you here. I can't do this." I asked her if she'd told DF how she felt, and she said no, she was embarrassed to be crying like a baby and was afraid DF (and another friend who was spending the night) would think she was dumb. We talked for about 15 minutes and she couldn't get regulated. She wasn't panic-stricken, but she was definitely starting to come unglued a bit. I decided to drive home that night.
Should I have stayed? Maybe. If I had felt better I probably would have pushed it, but honestly I was hurting like crazy and not thrilled about sleeping on an old saggy cot with the "snoring bear" (as my roommates deemed one of our bunkmates) close by. I also knew if I pushed her and stayed that she would be okay, but she would be mad at DF and that might damage their relationship. The relationship with DF and her family (our family now) is precious, and I didn't want TK questioning it. So I bailed. I was only a little resentful (we didn't get to do our bridge bounce, planned for the next AM), but I was okay with taking the easy way out. I think it was best for TK and DF, and possibly for me (though a kid free morning would have been nice!).
So my 3 day adventure turned into 1 less-than-adventure-filled day. As usual, being a trauma mama means being flexible. Perhaps I am too flexible sometimes. Perhaps I should push her further out of her comfort zone sometimes. But this was not the time. I didn't have the physical or emotional energy to deal with the fallout, and I couldn't risk TK's relationship with DF and fam.
Maybe next year I'll get the whole 3 days. A trauma mama can hope!
Give yourselves grace when you take the easy road, Trauma Mamas. There usually isn't one, so don't stress over picking that option when you can. My DF gave me the grace of telling me she trusted whatever decision I made because I knew what was best. You do too,trauma mamas. Trust yourself; trust your gut. Ignore the voices of the world that tell you your TK is "too old to act that way", "manipulating you to get her own way", or "spoiled." Your TK is learning to grow through her fear....that's a tall order. It's exhausting for both of you. So take a deep breath, enjoy the easy road when it appears, and know that you really do know what your TK needs.
Be strong, Trauma Mamas. Here's hoping your adventure plans go better than mine did!
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
Wednesday, April 6, 2016
Margaret Mead was right!
TK has given me the chance to mull on connection quite a bit tonight. We had a great drama-free day, a sweet evening filled with laughter and games, and a smooth easy bedtime. TK was asleep before her 9 PM bedtime. So why, you may ask, has she been up three times already? Beats me. And why, you may ask, does she come find me every time she wakes up and ask me to come in her room and pat her/sit with her. That one I CAN answer.
Anthropologist Margaret Mead said something along the lines of "the greatest human need is someone to worry when you don't come home at night." Because we all need connection. That's why TK comes to get me every time she wakes up.
You are probably thinking, "an almost 11 year old should be able to get herself back to sleep." True, and a non TK 11 year old probably can. In truth, TK could too if there were no choice. But luckily for her there is a choice.
When a person who has the ability to fully self regulate wakes up in the middle of the night, they either physically or emotionally/mentally seek a connection - grab a loved one's hand, pull up a fond memory, say a prayer, think about their day.....the connect to someone or something important to them. It makes them feel grounded and safe.
When a TK, who does not have the ability to fully self regulate, wakes up, they seek that same connection. But theirs comes from a physical connection with a "safe" person. TK doesn't have the ability, especially when just awaking unexpectedly, to find sufficiency in the thought of me. She needs my physical presence to make her feel safe and ease her through the transition to sleep.
Tonight she has walked out, said, "I'm sorry, Mom, but I just feel better when you're with me after I wake up." Her mind knows what she needs, even if she isn't awake enough to know it consciously. So at her most vulnerable, she seeks connection, safety, and love. Don't we all?
Connection - it gives us strength; it gives us peace; it gives us grace. Margaret Mead knew it 100 years ago. Thanks to TK, I get to re-learn and remember it. There is definitely grace in that knowledge. Find the grace in connection - with your TK, with your support network, with other Trauma Mamas/Daddies/caregivers. Be strong, Trauma Mamas. It can be challenging to be the safe place multiple times in one night (or many nights), but take pride in knowing YOU are your TK's rock, their safety, their "connection".
Anthropologist Margaret Mead said something along the lines of "the greatest human need is someone to worry when you don't come home at night." Because we all need connection. That's why TK comes to get me every time she wakes up.
You are probably thinking, "an almost 11 year old should be able to get herself back to sleep." True, and a non TK 11 year old probably can. In truth, TK could too if there were no choice. But luckily for her there is a choice.
When a person who has the ability to fully self regulate wakes up in the middle of the night, they either physically or emotionally/mentally seek a connection - grab a loved one's hand, pull up a fond memory, say a prayer, think about their day.....the connect to someone or something important to them. It makes them feel grounded and safe.
When a TK, who does not have the ability to fully self regulate, wakes up, they seek that same connection. But theirs comes from a physical connection with a "safe" person. TK doesn't have the ability, especially when just awaking unexpectedly, to find sufficiency in the thought of me. She needs my physical presence to make her feel safe and ease her through the transition to sleep.
Tonight she has walked out, said, "I'm sorry, Mom, but I just feel better when you're with me after I wake up." Her mind knows what she needs, even if she isn't awake enough to know it consciously. So at her most vulnerable, she seeks connection, safety, and love. Don't we all?
Connection - it gives us strength; it gives us peace; it gives us grace. Margaret Mead knew it 100 years ago. Thanks to TK, I get to re-learn and remember it. There is definitely grace in that knowledge. Find the grace in connection - with your TK, with your support network, with other Trauma Mamas/Daddies/caregivers. Be strong, Trauma Mamas. It can be challenging to be the safe place multiple times in one night (or many nights), but take pride in knowing YOU are your TK's rock, their safety, their "connection".
Tuesday, April 5, 2016
Holy flashback, Batman!
I wasn't going to publish this until tomorrow, but I'm awake and tomorrow may go to Hades in a handbasket, so.....
.....the return of the nuclear meltdown......sigh.......
It happened over our old nemesis, spelling. Those of you who have been with us for the long haul probably remember many a meltdown over this particular topic. TK has never been, and still is not, a good speller. It may be due to dysgraphia, or maybe her birth parents were missing the spelling gene, but whatever the reason, her spelling is A-B-Y-S-M-A-L. I can flit about unconcerned about this for a while, then we start talking about "regular" (i.e., public) middle school and something in me freaks envisioning the papers that look like a mass murder occurred on them with all the red ink. Yes, the enemy of handling trauma - FEAR! What if my kid flunks middle school? What if everyone makes fun of her because she can't spell? What if she feels like a failure and my years of tears and anguish and trauma healing are undone? How will she get into college?
Yep, F-E-A-R. Everytime I let it run my brain I send TK off the deep end. So yeah, the nuclear meltdown - totally my fault. (But seriously, it is JUST a spelling list!)
To recap the fun that was (not) had in the trauma house tonight....
TK is now playing volleyball, so for every two words she gets correct she gets to do two serves. (I can't go on the trampoline right now because of a post-concussion issue, which is causing no small amount of stress because "I can only do spelling on the trampoline, Mom!") But I digress, as usual.
TK does a few warm up serves. One bounces off the garage into the rosebush and TK freaks that her new volleyball may be losing air from the thorns. I tell her it's fine and call out the first word. TK (who spelled it perfectly yesterday), blithely says, "I don't know and I don't care." Well, if you want to get this Trauma Mama fired up, "I don't care" is the best firestarter in town. I handed her the paper and walked inside. Of course she followed me, screaming, "I want to do spelling!! Just tell me how to spell it!!" I told her I wasn't going to participate if she wasn't going to even try and kept walking. She ran in past me, shredded her list and yelled, "So who cares if I can't spell! I'll just be stupid forever and you can be embarrassed by me. I'll just watch TV all day and get fat. Is that what you want?" This was followed by a slammed bedroom door and hysterical sobbing.
No, I did NOT take the high road. I just didn't want to (welcome to the real world of trauma parenting). I continued making the cake I had started and counted to about 17 zillion in my head. Somewhere about 16 zillion I chilled out, but I still had no desire to go in TK's room. I had a long talk with myself and finally relented and took that *%& high road. I went into TK's room, totally faking it (but hey, give me credit for trying). I told her even if she got fat I would still love her (addressing her non sequitir seemed the safest starting place). She told me she felt like I was saying she was lazy because I said she wouldn't even try. I apologized for making her feel that way. (Luckily my years of trauma mama'ing kicked in automatically, because my rational brain was still annoyed about the spelling thing. Thank goodness for trauma mama muscle memory!) After a few (okay, 40) minutes we were smiling and she was telling me about the book she was reading.
In some ways I had forgotten how exhausting it was to tamp down your own frustration and anger and be in that trauma moment with your TK. And I am so grateful that I have been allowed to forget that, even if only temporarily. There was a really long stretch where I could not forget because I was doing it every day.
The biggest grace in all this.....after talking, my sweet TK says, very softly, "I'm really sorry, Mom. It's just too much for me. Can we talk about how to solve it tomorrow?"
Grab the grace when your TK tosses it your way, Trauma Mamas. Savor it and keep it tucked in your heart for those days when you "just don't want to." It's okay to not want to, and it's okay to "just not" sometimes. Give yourselves the grace of a pass sometimes. Know you are always being the best Trauma Mama you can. Some days you'll be world class, some days.....not so much. But you are healing your TK every day, even on the not good ones, because your love never wavers.
Be strong, Trauma Mamas.
.....the return of the nuclear meltdown......sigh.......
It happened over our old nemesis, spelling. Those of you who have been with us for the long haul probably remember many a meltdown over this particular topic. TK has never been, and still is not, a good speller. It may be due to dysgraphia, or maybe her birth parents were missing the spelling gene, but whatever the reason, her spelling is A-B-Y-S-M-A-L. I can flit about unconcerned about this for a while, then we start talking about "regular" (i.e., public) middle school and something in me freaks envisioning the papers that look like a mass murder occurred on them with all the red ink. Yes, the enemy of handling trauma - FEAR! What if my kid flunks middle school? What if everyone makes fun of her because she can't spell? What if she feels like a failure and my years of tears and anguish and trauma healing are undone? How will she get into college?
Yep, F-E-A-R. Everytime I let it run my brain I send TK off the deep end. So yeah, the nuclear meltdown - totally my fault. (But seriously, it is JUST a spelling list!)
To recap the fun that was (not) had in the trauma house tonight....
TK is now playing volleyball, so for every two words she gets correct she gets to do two serves. (I can't go on the trampoline right now because of a post-concussion issue, which is causing no small amount of stress because "I can only do spelling on the trampoline, Mom!") But I digress, as usual.
TK does a few warm up serves. One bounces off the garage into the rosebush and TK freaks that her new volleyball may be losing air from the thorns. I tell her it's fine and call out the first word. TK (who spelled it perfectly yesterday), blithely says, "I don't know and I don't care." Well, if you want to get this Trauma Mama fired up, "I don't care" is the best firestarter in town. I handed her the paper and walked inside. Of course she followed me, screaming, "I want to do spelling!! Just tell me how to spell it!!" I told her I wasn't going to participate if she wasn't going to even try and kept walking. She ran in past me, shredded her list and yelled, "So who cares if I can't spell! I'll just be stupid forever and you can be embarrassed by me. I'll just watch TV all day and get fat. Is that what you want?" This was followed by a slammed bedroom door and hysterical sobbing.
No, I did NOT take the high road. I just didn't want to (welcome to the real world of trauma parenting). I continued making the cake I had started and counted to about 17 zillion in my head. Somewhere about 16 zillion I chilled out, but I still had no desire to go in TK's room. I had a long talk with myself and finally relented and took that *%& high road. I went into TK's room, totally faking it (but hey, give me credit for trying). I told her even if she got fat I would still love her (addressing her non sequitir seemed the safest starting place). She told me she felt like I was saying she was lazy because I said she wouldn't even try. I apologized for making her feel that way. (Luckily my years of trauma mama'ing kicked in automatically, because my rational brain was still annoyed about the spelling thing. Thank goodness for trauma mama muscle memory!) After a few (okay, 40) minutes we were smiling and she was telling me about the book she was reading.
In some ways I had forgotten how exhausting it was to tamp down your own frustration and anger and be in that trauma moment with your TK. And I am so grateful that I have been allowed to forget that, even if only temporarily. There was a really long stretch where I could not forget because I was doing it every day.
The biggest grace in all this.....after talking, my sweet TK says, very softly, "I'm really sorry, Mom. It's just too much for me. Can we talk about how to solve it tomorrow?"
Grab the grace when your TK tosses it your way, Trauma Mamas. Savor it and keep it tucked in your heart for those days when you "just don't want to." It's okay to not want to, and it's okay to "just not" sometimes. Give yourselves the grace of a pass sometimes. Know you are always being the best Trauma Mama you can. Some days you'll be world class, some days.....not so much. But you are healing your TK every day, even on the not good ones, because your love never wavers.
Be strong, Trauma Mamas.
Needing a new toolbox....where's the Trauma Lowe's?
This blog was going to be all about the changing face of trauma, detailing how we no longer had screaming/crying jags with slamming doors and torn papers......until we did. As always, trauma keeps me humble by shattering my "certainties" and perceptions.
I've been thinking a lot lately about the changing face of trauma. We have (for the most part) moved beyond heart-wrenching sobs and level 4 meltdowns, replete with slamming doors and things being hurled/torn/broken. TK's trauma now shows itself far more internally.......upset stomach (to the point of vomiting), inability to sleep, and other far more insidious manifestations. The good news is we have set the stage for communication (and it has, hallelujah, worked!). TK has decided that she needs to talk about her day to "process out the nerves". Talking, peppermint tea, and meditations for anxiety and sleep help.....sometimes. I am thrilled that the tears and prayers and years of talking about her feelings and being accepting of them without judgment has resulted in her knowing she can talk to me about her feelings now. (Granted, she is still a tween and not yet a bona fide teenager, so I'm sure some shutdown will be coming.)
I'm not sure this manifestation of trauma is better than the previous. You'd think it would be easier, but it's just different. It requires many of the same skills, but mostly it requires patience and compassion.....listening to the same worries, same frustrations, and same feelings of insecurity and unworthiness day after day (after day after day after day......) There are some nights when TK starts talking about her day and the seemingly endless drama with a particular classmate that I want to put the pillow over my head and scream, because I've heard it all a million times. One day I offered a solution (trauma fail!) and she called me on it immediately. "Mom, I don't want your suggestions, I just want you to listen!" Letting our TKs work out their challenges can be exhausting, because it can take so long for them to get to a place of regulation where they can even BEGIN to think about solutions. Staying in that place of compassion and just hearing them often takes every iota of patience you have (and a few you have to mortgage from tomorrow). They do eventually get to problem-solving, but, as always, you have to get through the trauma junk first - the "everyone hates me, I'm not likable/lovable, I'm stupid, everyone thinks everything is always my fault". I realize these are easily attributable to tween angst as well, but the TK takes them to the most illogical conclusion so rapidly it makes your head spin. "I got in an argument with a friend today" turns into "I'll never have a friend again and everyone hates me; I have been totally rejected" in a minute or less. And everyone around them is stunned when they go off the deep end and start screaming over a "silly argument". They don't realize that your TK is now convinced they are totally rejected and alone. Normal tween angst doesn't end in that conclusion.
We haven't cracked the nut on how to handle this new manifestion of trauma. I'm working on building a new toolbox. It will contain those all purpose tools of compassion and listening, and we've added in meditation. TK still has many nights where she feels like she's going to throw up (though she hasn't in a while, so I guess we're making progress), and every so often she will even wake up in the middle of the night feeling that way, so obviously we haven't found the complete tool-set yet. And maybe we won't, and I'll do my best to be okay with that. As I keep reminding myself, Heather Forbes says, "Sometimes the growth is in the struggle." I find it harder to watch TK struggle this way than the nuclear meltdowns (and we had one of those tonight....so I have a legit comparison!).
I am so grateful for the grace that has taken us to the point where TK communicates openly and freely. Find your successes and claim the grace in them, Trauma Mamas. You'll need them on this changing, challenging journey.
As for the epic meltdown/trauma flashback....well that gives me something to blog about tomorrow.
I've been thinking a lot lately about the changing face of trauma. We have (for the most part) moved beyond heart-wrenching sobs and level 4 meltdowns, replete with slamming doors and things being hurled/torn/broken. TK's trauma now shows itself far more internally.......upset stomach (to the point of vomiting), inability to sleep, and other far more insidious manifestations. The good news is we have set the stage for communication (and it has, hallelujah, worked!). TK has decided that she needs to talk about her day to "process out the nerves". Talking, peppermint tea, and meditations for anxiety and sleep help.....sometimes. I am thrilled that the tears and prayers and years of talking about her feelings and being accepting of them without judgment has resulted in her knowing she can talk to me about her feelings now. (Granted, she is still a tween and not yet a bona fide teenager, so I'm sure some shutdown will be coming.)
I'm not sure this manifestation of trauma is better than the previous. You'd think it would be easier, but it's just different. It requires many of the same skills, but mostly it requires patience and compassion.....listening to the same worries, same frustrations, and same feelings of insecurity and unworthiness day after day (after day after day after day......) There are some nights when TK starts talking about her day and the seemingly endless drama with a particular classmate that I want to put the pillow over my head and scream, because I've heard it all a million times. One day I offered a solution (trauma fail!) and she called me on it immediately. "Mom, I don't want your suggestions, I just want you to listen!" Letting our TKs work out their challenges can be exhausting, because it can take so long for them to get to a place of regulation where they can even BEGIN to think about solutions. Staying in that place of compassion and just hearing them often takes every iota of patience you have (and a few you have to mortgage from tomorrow). They do eventually get to problem-solving, but, as always, you have to get through the trauma junk first - the "everyone hates me, I'm not likable/lovable, I'm stupid, everyone thinks everything is always my fault". I realize these are easily attributable to tween angst as well, but the TK takes them to the most illogical conclusion so rapidly it makes your head spin. "I got in an argument with a friend today" turns into "I'll never have a friend again and everyone hates me; I have been totally rejected" in a minute or less. And everyone around them is stunned when they go off the deep end and start screaming over a "silly argument". They don't realize that your TK is now convinced they are totally rejected and alone. Normal tween angst doesn't end in that conclusion.
We haven't cracked the nut on how to handle this new manifestion of trauma. I'm working on building a new toolbox. It will contain those all purpose tools of compassion and listening, and we've added in meditation. TK still has many nights where she feels like she's going to throw up (though she hasn't in a while, so I guess we're making progress), and every so often she will even wake up in the middle of the night feeling that way, so obviously we haven't found the complete tool-set yet. And maybe we won't, and I'll do my best to be okay with that. As I keep reminding myself, Heather Forbes says, "Sometimes the growth is in the struggle." I find it harder to watch TK struggle this way than the nuclear meltdowns (and we had one of those tonight....so I have a legit comparison!).
I am so grateful for the grace that has taken us to the point where TK communicates openly and freely. Find your successes and claim the grace in them, Trauma Mamas. You'll need them on this changing, challenging journey.
As for the epic meltdown/trauma flashback....well that gives me something to blog about tomorrow.
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