Thursday, May 19, 2016
The Growth is in the Struggle
Heather Forbes says, "the growth is in the struggle." We definitely had an opportunity for growth last night.
Trauma Kid (TK) went to middle school volleyball tryouts, nervous but (over)confident in her abilities. I dropped her off, probably more nervous than she was. I picked her up 90 minutes later. As she walked toward the car she shook her head no. She looked like a thundercloud. I have learned not to ask questions when she looks like that, so I said nothing. A few minutes into the car ride she told me she'd tripped and landed hard on her bum and it hurt so much that she couldn't hustle, so she didn't think she'd made it.
The list was posted 90 minutes later, so we drove back to the middle school to check out the results. I stayed in the car as TK looked. She came back looking mad and upset, so I knew immediately. She didn't say anything on the way home. I just said, "I'm so sorry. I know it hurts. But you need to know that no one will be disappointed in you." When we got home she slammed the car door, the door into the house, and the door to her room. I heard her in there hitting the wall and venting her anger, so I waited that part out. When I heard her start sobbing I knocked and asked if I could come in. She said no so I told her I'd be sitting in the hall by her door until she was ready for me to come in. A few minutes later she told me to come in. I sat by her bed and said nothing. She ranted for a few minutes, then sobbed some more. I asked her if I could hug her and she said no. My heart broke for her and I shed many tears of my own as she sobbed. After a few minutes she reached out for my hand.
I waited to see what would happen. I knew this was a heartbreak for her, and I wasn't sure if she had the skills to cope with that level of rejection. This was a serious "growing in the struggle" moment.
After about 30 minutes she was pretty calm. I asked her if she still wanted to go to public middle school now that she hadn't made the team. She said she did. She asked if she could sleep in my bed because she was so sad and wanted to be close to me.
This morning she said, "I'm okay, Mom. I'm still sad and disappointed, but I'm okay." That was a momentous moment in our trauma journey. TK had weathered a huge rejection and come out the other side - quickly and resolutely. It was more than I expected, and I can't even express my pride and relief.
Later I asked her why she didn't want me to hug her when she was so sad. She said, "Mom, when I'm that upset it's like every part of me is super-sensitive, so having you hug me is just more pressure that I can't handle." I knew she meant physical pressure, so I get it. I hate it, but I get it. When I'm a sobbing mess I just want to fall in someone's arms and let them comfort me. But TK isn't me, and I have to respect her needs, even when it goes against every cell in my body.
This is one of those rare blessed moments when I can really see all the work, tears, prayers and re-dos working. TK has amazing presence and is starting to gain resilience. Talk about grace......I was awash in it today as I watched her TRULY be okay.
Andra Day has this amazing song called "Rise Up." I swear it is the anthem for Trauma Mamas (and Trauma Daddies and Trauma Caregivers). I'll put the lyrics below if you want to read them, and I'll post the YouTube link in an immediate follow on post. Whether you do or not, have faith, Trauma Mamas. Your TK can gain resilience and learn to weather rejection without falling into despair. If my TK can do it, yours can get there too.
Sending you grace for the journey. You will undoubtedly have to rise up a thousand times again, but you are strong. When you feel like you can't rise up one more time, I will send you strength and grace until you find your own.
ANDRA DAY - RISE UP
You're broken down and tired of living life on a merry-go-round
And you can't find the fighter
But I see it in you so we gonna walk it out and move mountains
We gonna walk it out and move mountains
And I'll rise up, I'll rise like the day
I'll rise up, I'll rise unafraid
I'll rise up, and I'll do it a thousand times again
And I'll rise up, high like the waves
I'll rise up, in spite of the ache
I'll rise up, and I'll do it a thousand times again
For you
When the silence isn't quiet and it feels like it's getting hard to breathe
And I know you feel like dying
But I promise we'll take the world to its feet and move mountains
Bring it to its feet and move mountains
And I'll rise up, I'll rise like the day
I'll rise up, I'll rise unafraid
I'll rise up, and I'll do it a thousand times again
For you
All we need, all we need is hope
And for that we have each other, and for that we have each other
We will rise, we will rise, we'll rise, we'll rise
I'll rise up, rise like the day
I'll rise up, in spite of the ache
I will rise a thousand times again
And we'll rise up, high like the waves
We'll rise up, in spite of the ache
We'll rise up, and we'll do it a thousand times again
For you
Trauma Kid (TK) went to middle school volleyball tryouts, nervous but (over)confident in her abilities. I dropped her off, probably more nervous than she was. I picked her up 90 minutes later. As she walked toward the car she shook her head no. She looked like a thundercloud. I have learned not to ask questions when she looks like that, so I said nothing. A few minutes into the car ride she told me she'd tripped and landed hard on her bum and it hurt so much that she couldn't hustle, so she didn't think she'd made it.
The list was posted 90 minutes later, so we drove back to the middle school to check out the results. I stayed in the car as TK looked. She came back looking mad and upset, so I knew immediately. She didn't say anything on the way home. I just said, "I'm so sorry. I know it hurts. But you need to know that no one will be disappointed in you." When we got home she slammed the car door, the door into the house, and the door to her room. I heard her in there hitting the wall and venting her anger, so I waited that part out. When I heard her start sobbing I knocked and asked if I could come in. She said no so I told her I'd be sitting in the hall by her door until she was ready for me to come in. A few minutes later she told me to come in. I sat by her bed and said nothing. She ranted for a few minutes, then sobbed some more. I asked her if I could hug her and she said no. My heart broke for her and I shed many tears of my own as she sobbed. After a few minutes she reached out for my hand.
I waited to see what would happen. I knew this was a heartbreak for her, and I wasn't sure if she had the skills to cope with that level of rejection. This was a serious "growing in the struggle" moment.
After about 30 minutes she was pretty calm. I asked her if she still wanted to go to public middle school now that she hadn't made the team. She said she did. She asked if she could sleep in my bed because she was so sad and wanted to be close to me.
This morning she said, "I'm okay, Mom. I'm still sad and disappointed, but I'm okay." That was a momentous moment in our trauma journey. TK had weathered a huge rejection and come out the other side - quickly and resolutely. It was more than I expected, and I can't even express my pride and relief.
Later I asked her why she didn't want me to hug her when she was so sad. She said, "Mom, when I'm that upset it's like every part of me is super-sensitive, so having you hug me is just more pressure that I can't handle." I knew she meant physical pressure, so I get it. I hate it, but I get it. When I'm a sobbing mess I just want to fall in someone's arms and let them comfort me. But TK isn't me, and I have to respect her needs, even when it goes against every cell in my body.
This is one of those rare blessed moments when I can really see all the work, tears, prayers and re-dos working. TK has amazing presence and is starting to gain resilience. Talk about grace......I was awash in it today as I watched her TRULY be okay.
Andra Day has this amazing song called "Rise Up." I swear it is the anthem for Trauma Mamas (and Trauma Daddies and Trauma Caregivers). I'll put the lyrics below if you want to read them, and I'll post the YouTube link in an immediate follow on post. Whether you do or not, have faith, Trauma Mamas. Your TK can gain resilience and learn to weather rejection without falling into despair. If my TK can do it, yours can get there too.
Sending you grace for the journey. You will undoubtedly have to rise up a thousand times again, but you are strong. When you feel like you can't rise up one more time, I will send you strength and grace until you find your own.
ANDRA DAY - RISE UP
You're broken down and tired of living life on a merry-go-round
And you can't find the fighter
But I see it in you so we gonna walk it out and move mountains
We gonna walk it out and move mountains
And I'll rise up, I'll rise like the day
I'll rise up, I'll rise unafraid
I'll rise up, and I'll do it a thousand times again
And I'll rise up, high like the waves
I'll rise up, in spite of the ache
I'll rise up, and I'll do it a thousand times again
For you
When the silence isn't quiet and it feels like it's getting hard to breathe
And I know you feel like dying
But I promise we'll take the world to its feet and move mountains
Bring it to its feet and move mountains
And I'll rise up, I'll rise like the day
I'll rise up, I'll rise unafraid
I'll rise up, and I'll do it a thousand times again
For you
All we need, all we need is hope
And for that we have each other, and for that we have each other
We will rise, we will rise, we'll rise, we'll rise
I'll rise up, rise like the day
I'll rise up, in spite of the ache
I will rise a thousand times again
And we'll rise up, high like the waves
We'll rise up, in spite of the ache
We'll rise up, and we'll do it a thousand times again
For you
Monday, May 16, 2016
No buts allowed
I'll preface by saying I am in the midst of a hellacious bout of shingles, so I'm not as patient as usual, and my stress window is definitely smaller than normal.
TK (Trauma Kid) was at volleyball camp last Thursday and a friend mentioned middle school volleyball tryouts were next week (now this week). TK LOVES volleyball. She has declared it her "thing". I think she's pretty good for a novice, but I'm a former lacrosse player so I may not be the best judge. When TK told me about tryouts, I knew the conversation that was about to ensue. Sure enough, on the ride home, TK said she wants to go to public middle school next year and try out for the volleyball team.
I tried to push down my immediate fear response, and managed to -- somewhat. I told her there will be challenges -- like the inability to regulate through movement during the day, dealing with her dysgraphia, and the "girl drama" that is inevitable in middle school. She told me she needs a social circle -- her current school is quite small and her entire class (3rd-6th grade) is 16 kids, and only 3 are girls. Our neighborhood is awash in boys as well. So her female social circle is her volleyball team (and the season just ended) and me. I get that she needs a bigger social circle, but the fear of returning to anything remotely like it was before overwhelmed me. I remember too well how fractured our family was, how trauma ruled our lives, how exhausting and isolating it was. But that was then, and I have to find the same courage TK has to let go of then and trust that we are in a place of trust and strength enough for now.
TK told me she'd definitely make the volleyball team, and I said I hoped so. She told me I needed to have more faith in her. I said I had faith in her, but I don't know how good the other kids trying out are. She told me she had matured a lot and was ready for the challenges of public middle school, and I should just believe in her. I said I had faith in her, but we needed to work through some things before I felt okay with this change.
Then TK nailed me. She said, "Mom, why don't you believe in me? You keep telling me you do, then you say you don't. I just need you to support me, and if it falls apart you can help me through it." I had a flashback of my dad, who often said "I'm not telling you what to do, but......" And I clearly remember saying he needed to replace the "but" with a period. So I did. I told TK I believed she was good enough to make the team, and I had faith in her ability to handle public middle school. (Okay, I still said "but......" in my head, but at least my out loud stuff was good!) There was a lot of maturity and strength in her statement about helping her through it if fell apart. It also told me that she knew I would be there to help her through it.
I've spent the last few days stepping back and really watching TK. And I've seem some amazing things. We were at Dear Friend's (my sister from another mister and Soph's declared aunt) wedding the day after TK's birthday, and TK took on the role of getting folks (many of whom she'd never met) to sign the guest book. She did this with grace and calmness and confidence. During the reception I almost never saw her once dinner was over - she was off having fun with the family. This would never have happened a year ago, or probably even 6 months ago. Sometime in the last few months she has grown amazingly in confidence. She has always had amazing courage, but her confidence and self esteem have also come front and center.
We were visiting TK's "sister" the other day, and she told me she saw a tremendous difference from the TK of a year ago. When I stopped and really looked at who TK had become, I could even stop the "buts" in my head. She CAN do this. There will be challenges, and stumbles, and probably even some trauma meltdowns, but she's right -- I'll help her through them and we'll continue to move forward. Don't get me wrong, I am still slightly terrified. What if she doesn't make the volleyball team? Will her confidence and self-esteem plummet? Or am I not giving her enough credit? TBD - I don't know, but I will on Wednesday (when the call-back list is posted) or Friday (when the team rosters are posted). Stay tuned.
But for now, I am taking in the grace at the progress we have made. The journey is not over; trauma will continue to rear up its head and throw challenges at us, but my girl, my TK, has more ability to self-regulate than I thought she would ever have.
It's nearly impossible to see the possibilities when you are in the middle of the trauma journey. But they exist. Your TKs can continue to grow in confidence, self-regulation, and grace. If you can, step back and look at your journey, Trauma Mamas. You will see progress. It may be miniscule, but somewhere there is a change for the better. This journey is not linear, and sometimes you get stuck in one place for what feels like forever. But your undying, unconditional love is moving your TK toward healing. Grab the grace of finding any progress you can, and take the credit for it. This journey is brutal, and you are the warrior who never gives up. Grace to you as you battle on, Trauma Mamas.
TK (Trauma Kid) was at volleyball camp last Thursday and a friend mentioned middle school volleyball tryouts were next week (now this week). TK LOVES volleyball. She has declared it her "thing". I think she's pretty good for a novice, but I'm a former lacrosse player so I may not be the best judge. When TK told me about tryouts, I knew the conversation that was about to ensue. Sure enough, on the ride home, TK said she wants to go to public middle school next year and try out for the volleyball team.
I tried to push down my immediate fear response, and managed to -- somewhat. I told her there will be challenges -- like the inability to regulate through movement during the day, dealing with her dysgraphia, and the "girl drama" that is inevitable in middle school. She told me she needs a social circle -- her current school is quite small and her entire class (3rd-6th grade) is 16 kids, and only 3 are girls. Our neighborhood is awash in boys as well. So her female social circle is her volleyball team (and the season just ended) and me. I get that she needs a bigger social circle, but the fear of returning to anything remotely like it was before overwhelmed me. I remember too well how fractured our family was, how trauma ruled our lives, how exhausting and isolating it was. But that was then, and I have to find the same courage TK has to let go of then and trust that we are in a place of trust and strength enough for now.
TK told me she'd definitely make the volleyball team, and I said I hoped so. She told me I needed to have more faith in her. I said I had faith in her, but I don't know how good the other kids trying out are. She told me she had matured a lot and was ready for the challenges of public middle school, and I should just believe in her. I said I had faith in her, but we needed to work through some things before I felt okay with this change.
Then TK nailed me. She said, "Mom, why don't you believe in me? You keep telling me you do, then you say you don't. I just need you to support me, and if it falls apart you can help me through it." I had a flashback of my dad, who often said "I'm not telling you what to do, but......" And I clearly remember saying he needed to replace the "but" with a period. So I did. I told TK I believed she was good enough to make the team, and I had faith in her ability to handle public middle school. (Okay, I still said "but......" in my head, but at least my out loud stuff was good!) There was a lot of maturity and strength in her statement about helping her through it if fell apart. It also told me that she knew I would be there to help her through it.
I've spent the last few days stepping back and really watching TK. And I've seem some amazing things. We were at Dear Friend's (my sister from another mister and Soph's declared aunt) wedding the day after TK's birthday, and TK took on the role of getting folks (many of whom she'd never met) to sign the guest book. She did this with grace and calmness and confidence. During the reception I almost never saw her once dinner was over - she was off having fun with the family. This would never have happened a year ago, or probably even 6 months ago. Sometime in the last few months she has grown amazingly in confidence. She has always had amazing courage, but her confidence and self esteem have also come front and center.
We were visiting TK's "sister" the other day, and she told me she saw a tremendous difference from the TK of a year ago. When I stopped and really looked at who TK had become, I could even stop the "buts" in my head. She CAN do this. There will be challenges, and stumbles, and probably even some trauma meltdowns, but she's right -- I'll help her through them and we'll continue to move forward. Don't get me wrong, I am still slightly terrified. What if she doesn't make the volleyball team? Will her confidence and self-esteem plummet? Or am I not giving her enough credit? TBD - I don't know, but I will on Wednesday (when the call-back list is posted) or Friday (when the team rosters are posted). Stay tuned.
But for now, I am taking in the grace at the progress we have made. The journey is not over; trauma will continue to rear up its head and throw challenges at us, but my girl, my TK, has more ability to self-regulate than I thought she would ever have.
It's nearly impossible to see the possibilities when you are in the middle of the trauma journey. But they exist. Your TKs can continue to grow in confidence, self-regulation, and grace. If you can, step back and look at your journey, Trauma Mamas. You will see progress. It may be miniscule, but somewhere there is a change for the better. This journey is not linear, and sometimes you get stuck in one place for what feels like forever. But your undying, unconditional love is moving your TK toward healing. Grab the grace of finding any progress you can, and take the credit for it. This journey is brutal, and you are the warrior who never gives up. Grace to you as you battle on, Trauma Mamas.
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