I loathe trauma --- with every ounce of my being. It is the seemingly unbeatable opponent. No matter how many years of love and tears and prayers I pour into it, I cannot erase the neglect and abuse of the first year of my Trauma Kid's (TK's) life. Sometimes it seems we are winning the battle; the smiles are more frequent than the tears, moments of true joy arise, and we live in a peaceful happy house. Then there days like today.
Something happened at school. I still don't know exactly what, but evidently TK made an inappropriate comment about something in Social Studies. I'm confident this was a comment about the topic at hand and not about a person in the class. (While that could quite honestly happen, it's not likely to happen in front of the whole class). Whatever was said was egregious enough that TK was given a really hard time by the classmates. So much so that TK sat alone at lunch - not by choice. And when I say alone I mean the only person at the table.
TK has (had?) two best friends. One told TK they were ditching her because there were better people to hang out with. The other one talked to TK after school; they argued and the friend told TK they were done forgiving TK's shortcomings. The result of this was TK coming out sobbing, then calming down and telling me, "I wish I would die." I asked TK if I should be scared by this statement. TK told me, "I don't know. I don't know at what point I say that and I really mean it and not just for this moment but for forever."
Luckily we had an appointment with the therapist tonight, so things got turned around a bit.
On the way home, TK told me to "stop overreacting to me saying I wish I would die. You need to let it go. I mean it for a minute but then I'm okay so I need you to just stop worrying and making a big deal out of it." I explained that when I asked if I needed to be scared, the answer I got was basically, "maybe", so it was hard to just let it go.
I am weary. I can't find the grace in this. I guess the only grace I can find right now is there is no school tomorrow because of snow so TK doesn't have to face the "former friends" and feel that rejection and isolation.
I get it. I know TK is harsh and brutally mean when hurt. I get how people run from that. I know it's not reasonable to ask 12 and 13 year olds to look past that and realize TK's brain is damaged. TK looks fine and smiles and fakes it, so when TK explodes it surprises people who haven't been in TK's life very long. But I wish I could explain it to them; tell them TK goes into a fight or flight mode when rejected and truly can't control the words that come out; tell them that TK is desperate for acceptance and knows the anger and harsh words are counterproductive but can't control them; tell them TK is funny and courageous and deals with more than most people will ever know. But I can't. So I will wait until TK is in bed to cry; I will try not to have this niggling fear that TK may hit that point where I really do need to be scared; I will try to listen and not react; I will struggle to make peace with this trauma beast and not give up the fight to defeat it once and for all.
I am weary. Trauma Mama'ing is exhausting, and solo Trauma Mama'ing is at times mind-numbingly so. But the moments of smiles and joy give us the strength to hang in (even if by our fingernails).
Hang tough, Trauma Mamas. Sharpen those fingernails and dig them in if you need to. Grab the grace in a snow day or a smile (or a great therapist).
