Friday bedtime - the words strike fear in my heart. After a week of school (which, while markedly better, is still a challenge) and gymnastics, and the looming early AM gymnastics Sat....well, things often go badly. Tonight's drama went more or less like this:
Me - "Honey, you need to get a shower before bed. You're all sticky and you stink." (So yeah, not my best opening gambit). To my shock she didn't take offense, but still rebelled.
TK - "I'll get one after gymnastics tomorrow. I'll just get stinkier."
Me - not picking that battle, "Fine."
Fast forward to bedtime.
TK - "Why is it so sticky in my bed? I can't sleep like this! Why didn't you make me get a shower?" She drags the mattress off the bed, throws it on the floor, and throws herself on top of it weeping.
Me - trying to breathe (well, okay, sighing deeply)......."You can grab a quick one now or you can sleep sticky - your call."
TK - "You're mean! Why are you so mean? What is your problem? You're supposed to help me! You put a note on my mirror that said you're sorry we had a bad night and you loved me. I don't believe you!"
Me - failing to breathe, and revving that bus to go off the cliff - "Good night. I love you."
TK - "Aren't you going to pat me?"
Me - "I'm not in the mood to listen to you be mean to me. I love you. Good night."
I quietly closed the door and sat in the den, listening to the sobs. I admit I didn't feel a lot of sympathy. Some days it just seems to be in short supply.
After a few minutes, TK comes out and sits down a few feet from me. "You really hurt me. Like I wanted to run away and find someone who liked me. I mean it, I really wanted to leave."
Me - annoyed, because it's almost 10 PM and I have no clue what egregious thing I said, still managed to choke that all down. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, and I'm really glad you didn't leave."
TK - spills a lot of frustrations about a new kid at school, a friend who was moody and mean to her, it being too hard to get up for early practice.
Wisely, I say nothing. She heads back to her room and says, "I'm sorry. Will you come pat me?"
Me- "Of course."
After I get the mattress back on the bed, the sheet back on the mattress, the pillows back on, etc, she settles in. Then she gets me - the one I didn't see coming and had to flounder to answer.
"Mom, why are some things so much harder for me than other kids? Why do I get so upset about stuff when other kids don't?"
I mentally say my most common prayer when things like this come up - "Lord, please help me not to screw this up too badly."
Me - "That's part of being a trauma kid."
TK - "Why am I a trauma kid again? Am I going to be one forever?"
I explain about not having someone to hold her when she was little, and how that made it hard for her brain to feel safe, and that sometimes things that are small still make her brain scared, so she feels like she needs to scream or run or break something. Then I tell her how far she's come, how she is so good at using her words and knowing when she feels overwhelmed, and how proud I am of her.
TK - "Yeah, but will I be one forever?"
Me - "Yes, but that's just one thing you'll be. You'll also be amazing, and strong, and funny, and brave, and smart, and whatever else you want to be. It's just part of who you are."
TK - "Okay."
She rolls over and goes to sleep.
I mentally mop my brow, breathe a sigh of relief and thank God for the grace to be in that moment with her and remind her that being a TK is not a disease or a life sentence, it's just a part of who she is.
I expect we'll have follow up conversations on this topic, and maybe I'll be more prepared. I doubt it, though, as they always pop up when I am frazzled and "done".
I am so thankful for the grace to not really be "done", even when I am. And I am extra grateful that we ended our day with cuddles and kind, loving words and not hurt feelings. I am so proud that she had the courage to come out of her room and deal with her feelings rather than just crying herself to sleep (and I admit, not proudly but honestly, at that moment I wish she had gone with choice B!).
You're going to get hit with the hard questions, Trauma Mamas. "Why didn't someone want me? Why am I different? Why are things hard? Why do I get so mad?" And you are sure you aren't ready for them....but you are. Your heart knows the answers to those questions. Trust your heart, trust your love for your TK, and trust that they can handle the truth. Give yourselves grace if you goof it up a little - you can always go back and revisit it.
The ultimate answer is the same - love. Only love conquers fear. I'm sending you some grace to conquer your own fear when those questions come up. You can do this, Trauma Mamas. Have faith, have courage, and jump in. I'm here if you need a life preserver.
Friday, April 17, 2015
Saturday, April 4, 2015
The Trauma Paradox
You're probably thinking, "That was fast. Last night things were good." It wasn't a massive meltdown today, just an aspect of trauma kids that is one of the most challenging for me.
We were upstairs playing, "Oh no you can't!" We have lots of made up games that involve lots of silliness and lots of physical movement. This one consists of one person sitting on the swing (what, you don't have a swing in your bonus room?) and the other person twisting, shaking, moving it in an attempt to make the swing dweller get off. Unfortunately, TK fell off tonight. Even more unfortunately, it's a wooden swing, so when it whapped her on the back of the head, it hurt like the dickens. (I've been nailed by that swing, and it brings tears to your eyes). Then things went into what I consider the trauma paradox. My baby is hurt, but she utterly and completely rejects any comfort. Beyond that, she utterly and completely rejects me. "Why did you do that, Mom? What kind of Mom does that? Don't touch me! Don't look at me! Don't ever talk to me for the rest of my life!" This was followed by running downstairs into her room and slamming the door, sobbing loudly the entire way.
I knew what to do, and I did it. I went downstairs, got the ice pack, opened her door and handed it to her without saying a word, and closed the door. Then I plopped myself down in the hall and waited for her to come out. The message in that is, "No matter how much you reject me, I am here waiting because I love you." She opened the door a few times, saw me there and slammed it shut. It took about 20 minutes (usually the bigger the hurt, the longer it takes) before she opened the door and came out. She walked past me saying, "Why do you look so sad? You didn't get hurt. I know it was an accident." (I am thankful for the grace in that last statement.)
Oh, but I did get hurt. Not only did I have the mom pain of my kid being hurt, I had the pain of not being allowed to comfort her. For me this is one of the greatest challenges of being a trauma mama. Every instinct in my mom heart wants to hold her, dry her tears, soothe her. But I cannot.
I need to review my "trauma bible" (Beyond Consequences, Logic and Control, by Heather Forbes) to explore the whys of this rejection. My instinct tells me it's "I have been physically hurt, but I will ensure I don't get emotionally hurt by rejecting you so you can't reject me."
Of course this happened right before bed, so it took a long time to get settled into the bedtime routine. TK tried to rally by asking me to play Old Maid with her before we started reading, but I know her head hurt. I love her for trying, though.
I'm thankful for the grace that allowed me to go against my instincts and do what TK needed, even if it wasn't what I needed. Give yourself grace and kudos, Trauma Mamas, when you step up and do what your TK needs, even when it hurts your heart. It's a tough thing to do, and you're not going to hear a thank you, but I offer you a heartfelt "well done".
We were upstairs playing, "Oh no you can't!" We have lots of made up games that involve lots of silliness and lots of physical movement. This one consists of one person sitting on the swing (what, you don't have a swing in your bonus room?) and the other person twisting, shaking, moving it in an attempt to make the swing dweller get off. Unfortunately, TK fell off tonight. Even more unfortunately, it's a wooden swing, so when it whapped her on the back of the head, it hurt like the dickens. (I've been nailed by that swing, and it brings tears to your eyes). Then things went into what I consider the trauma paradox. My baby is hurt, but she utterly and completely rejects any comfort. Beyond that, she utterly and completely rejects me. "Why did you do that, Mom? What kind of Mom does that? Don't touch me! Don't look at me! Don't ever talk to me for the rest of my life!" This was followed by running downstairs into her room and slamming the door, sobbing loudly the entire way.
I knew what to do, and I did it. I went downstairs, got the ice pack, opened her door and handed it to her without saying a word, and closed the door. Then I plopped myself down in the hall and waited for her to come out. The message in that is, "No matter how much you reject me, I am here waiting because I love you." She opened the door a few times, saw me there and slammed it shut. It took about 20 minutes (usually the bigger the hurt, the longer it takes) before she opened the door and came out. She walked past me saying, "Why do you look so sad? You didn't get hurt. I know it was an accident." (I am thankful for the grace in that last statement.)
Oh, but I did get hurt. Not only did I have the mom pain of my kid being hurt, I had the pain of not being allowed to comfort her. For me this is one of the greatest challenges of being a trauma mama. Every instinct in my mom heart wants to hold her, dry her tears, soothe her. But I cannot.
I need to review my "trauma bible" (Beyond Consequences, Logic and Control, by Heather Forbes) to explore the whys of this rejection. My instinct tells me it's "I have been physically hurt, but I will ensure I don't get emotionally hurt by rejecting you so you can't reject me."
Of course this happened right before bed, so it took a long time to get settled into the bedtime routine. TK tried to rally by asking me to play Old Maid with her before we started reading, but I know her head hurt. I love her for trying, though.
I'm thankful for the grace that allowed me to go against my instincts and do what TK needed, even if it wasn't what I needed. Give yourself grace and kudos, Trauma Mamas, when you step up and do what your TK needs, even when it hurts your heart. It's a tough thing to do, and you're not going to hear a thank you, but I offer you a heartfelt "well done".
Friday, April 3, 2015
Small (and not so small) victories
As usual, I will digress as I write. However, tonight I will digress up front. I've recently added some new blog readers from various sectors of our life. I admit this always gives me pause and has me considering editing parts of what I write. But then I take a deep breath and promise to hold true to my commitment to tell our story - good, bad, ugly, and everywhere in between. So hold me to it....if you sense me hedging, call me on it.
To my "new additions", this will work best if you go back and read from the beginning. This is a serial blog; digesting just an episode here and there loses the context and makes things seem better or worse than they are in the big picture.
On to the real stuff......
We had some small victories this week, and one at was, for TK, pretty big. She had a tough time the beginning of the week in the school transition. Tues AM she was in the hall crying and holding onto me, asking me not to leave or to take her with me. I blew it at first, saying, "I'll leave in 3 minutes. The longer I stay the harder it is." QUIZ TIME! What was wrong with that? It was a rational response to an emotional fear based need. Logic doesn't conquer fear; love conquers fear. So I gave myself a mental forehead slap, wrapped my arms around her and said, "I'm sorry this is hard. I love you so much." We stood there for about 4 more minutes, then she pulled away, dry eyed, and said, "Okay, Mom, you can go. I'll see you after school." I am always surprised when it works. I shouldn't be - we've been working on this for 5 years, but sometimes it still feels like magic.
TK's school is doing the Lion King musical, and the kids auditioned last week. TK really wanted to be Nala or Scar, but she got Rafiki. She didn't find out until we got to school in the morning, and I braced myself for massive meltdown. She was rather short with a few of her friends who got the "good roles", then asked me if I thought Rafiki was a good role. I told her he was the narrator, and without him folks wouldn't know what was happening. She thought about that for a few minutes, then decided she was very important to the play and settled into it. This whole transition from disappointed to mad to okay took about 10 minutes. That was AWESOME! I told her that afternoon how proud I was of her. My sarcastic, funny, amazing kid just looked at me and said, "As well you should be."
So all in all, it was a week where I was blessed to see the work paying off. And you all know I needed some of that after the last few weeks. There is such grace in seeing the growth amidst the struggle. It is challenging to keep the faith that our TKs will get there when you are in the trenches, struggling, crying, praying, exhausted. So grab the grace when it flies by and hold on tight to it. It is hard won and well earned. When you get it, take a moment to tell yourself, "well done, trauma mama."
Of course this is day 1 of a 3 day weekend, so there's a very good chance I will be posting some nuclear meltdown report in the next few days. The saving grace (literally) for me is coming the end of April when I go to an adult adventure camp for 2-1/2 days. TK will be hanging with the person who she trusts most in the world after me, who has known her since kindergarten, loves her, and gets her as much as someone who doesn't live with her can. When I told TK about it, she sighed, and said, "Cool, I get to get away from you." I think I get points for not jumping up and yelling, "Hallelujah!" Then TK added, "How long will you be gone? What if I need you while you're gone?" and the one that summed up all the "scarcity mentality" our TKs have, "Well, you better not brag about it when you get home, because I will be really mad that you had fun and I didn't." And yep, I had to take a deep breath and tell myself that TK wasn't being selfish, she was in the scarcity fear. "If you have fun, there's none left for me. If you go away and have a great time without me, it means you'd rather be there than with me." I reminded myself of that and still sighed and rolled my eyes. (As TK says, "I'm WORKING on it, okay?")
I was thinking tonight about why it has been 5 years since I have had any real time without TK. The truth is, as it so often is with our TKs, complicated and not pretty. One reason is that no one wanted to keep her. She is (far less now) challenging, and for those who knew her when the trauma was in high gear, the thought of having her for prolonged periods was overwhelming. Another reason is I was unwilling to let my friends keep her for fear of losing friendships. The reality is I have lost many "friendships" because of TK's trauma stuff, so I was unwilling to take that chance. It was easier to just deal with it myself, just suck it up an keep on going. But the main reason was TK just didn't feel safe when I wasn't around. We have finally hit a point (I think) where she does - with certain people, in certain circumstances. Sleepovers have always been fine, but prolonged no-mom periods have been untenable. I am delighted to test run my theory that we are past that. Stay tuned for how much fallout there will be after the fact. I'm sure there will be plenty.
If you don't have the grace to tell yourself that it's working, that you're doing a great job, take some from me.....Well done, Trauma Mamas (and Trauma Dads and Trauma Caregivers)......you ARE making a difference. You are exactly what your TK needs, even in your most broken, battered moments. Give yourselves some grace, be strong, and know you are not alone.
To my "new additions", this will work best if you go back and read from the beginning. This is a serial blog; digesting just an episode here and there loses the context and makes things seem better or worse than they are in the big picture.
On to the real stuff......
We had some small victories this week, and one at was, for TK, pretty big. She had a tough time the beginning of the week in the school transition. Tues AM she was in the hall crying and holding onto me, asking me not to leave or to take her with me. I blew it at first, saying, "I'll leave in 3 minutes. The longer I stay the harder it is." QUIZ TIME! What was wrong with that? It was a rational response to an emotional fear based need. Logic doesn't conquer fear; love conquers fear. So I gave myself a mental forehead slap, wrapped my arms around her and said, "I'm sorry this is hard. I love you so much." We stood there for about 4 more minutes, then she pulled away, dry eyed, and said, "Okay, Mom, you can go. I'll see you after school." I am always surprised when it works. I shouldn't be - we've been working on this for 5 years, but sometimes it still feels like magic.
TK's school is doing the Lion King musical, and the kids auditioned last week. TK really wanted to be Nala or Scar, but she got Rafiki. She didn't find out until we got to school in the morning, and I braced myself for massive meltdown. She was rather short with a few of her friends who got the "good roles", then asked me if I thought Rafiki was a good role. I told her he was the narrator, and without him folks wouldn't know what was happening. She thought about that for a few minutes, then decided she was very important to the play and settled into it. This whole transition from disappointed to mad to okay took about 10 minutes. That was AWESOME! I told her that afternoon how proud I was of her. My sarcastic, funny, amazing kid just looked at me and said, "As well you should be."
So all in all, it was a week where I was blessed to see the work paying off. And you all know I needed some of that after the last few weeks. There is such grace in seeing the growth amidst the struggle. It is challenging to keep the faith that our TKs will get there when you are in the trenches, struggling, crying, praying, exhausted. So grab the grace when it flies by and hold on tight to it. It is hard won and well earned. When you get it, take a moment to tell yourself, "well done, trauma mama."
Of course this is day 1 of a 3 day weekend, so there's a very good chance I will be posting some nuclear meltdown report in the next few days. The saving grace (literally) for me is coming the end of April when I go to an adult adventure camp for 2-1/2 days. TK will be hanging with the person who she trusts most in the world after me, who has known her since kindergarten, loves her, and gets her as much as someone who doesn't live with her can. When I told TK about it, she sighed, and said, "Cool, I get to get away from you." I think I get points for not jumping up and yelling, "Hallelujah!" Then TK added, "How long will you be gone? What if I need you while you're gone?" and the one that summed up all the "scarcity mentality" our TKs have, "Well, you better not brag about it when you get home, because I will be really mad that you had fun and I didn't." And yep, I had to take a deep breath and tell myself that TK wasn't being selfish, she was in the scarcity fear. "If you have fun, there's none left for me. If you go away and have a great time without me, it means you'd rather be there than with me." I reminded myself of that and still sighed and rolled my eyes. (As TK says, "I'm WORKING on it, okay?")
I was thinking tonight about why it has been 5 years since I have had any real time without TK. The truth is, as it so often is with our TKs, complicated and not pretty. One reason is that no one wanted to keep her. She is (far less now) challenging, and for those who knew her when the trauma was in high gear, the thought of having her for prolonged periods was overwhelming. Another reason is I was unwilling to let my friends keep her for fear of losing friendships. The reality is I have lost many "friendships" because of TK's trauma stuff, so I was unwilling to take that chance. It was easier to just deal with it myself, just suck it up an keep on going. But the main reason was TK just didn't feel safe when I wasn't around. We have finally hit a point (I think) where she does - with certain people, in certain circumstances. Sleepovers have always been fine, but prolonged no-mom periods have been untenable. I am delighted to test run my theory that we are past that. Stay tuned for how much fallout there will be after the fact. I'm sure there will be plenty.
If you don't have the grace to tell yourself that it's working, that you're doing a great job, take some from me.....Well done, Trauma Mamas (and Trauma Dads and Trauma Caregivers)......you ARE making a difference. You are exactly what your TK needs, even in your most broken, battered moments. Give yourselves some grace, be strong, and know you are not alone.
Sunday, March 29, 2015
A drama free weekend - thanks be!
I was smart enough to enjoy the fact that we had a drama free weekend. A blessing of TKs is they remind you to not take things for granted.
We had a close call today, but TK held it together. We went to see "Home" at the movies. The theater showed popcorn bags that had the characters from Home on them, but they didn't actually have any. I had told TK we would get one for her. This seemingly minor thing totally threw her for a loop. As she stomped into the theater and grabbed a seat, she said, "I don't even want to see this stupid movie anymore anyway." Then she put the popcorn down in the seat next to her so I couldn't sit there. I managed to stay in my regulated/smart trauma mama mode and quietly sat in the seat next the popcorn. About halfway through the movie, she moved the popcorn and sat next to me and put her head on my shoulder.
When we were getting ready for bed, I told her how grateful I was for a nice weekend with no drama. She said, "Mom, I hate it when we yell but sometimes I just have to." I didn't say anything....because really there was nothing to say.
I love those moments when I as wise enough to see and celebrate the progress. It probably sounds minor to anyone who doesn't live with a TK. But celebrating minor victories is the key to getting to major ones. So I will celebrate that TK managed to keep herself regulated amidst disappointment and anger. And I will celebrate my ability to stay regulated and not engage in the madness. I already know my response to her dysregulation is a tremendous driver in how things play out, so I celebrate when I am able to stay where I need to be - firmly rooted in love and compassion (or at least not engaging in arguing and devolving into a partner in the dysregulation).
So for this weekend, the roller coaster smoothed out. I'm sure it will yet again send us screaming through its heights and twists, but I'm enjoying the moment to catch my breath.
Grab some grace in those small victories, trauma mamas. Any victory, no matter how small, is a tribute to your faithfulness and commitment to your TK. And that is definitely worth celebrating.
We had a close call today, but TK held it together. We went to see "Home" at the movies. The theater showed popcorn bags that had the characters from Home on them, but they didn't actually have any. I had told TK we would get one for her. This seemingly minor thing totally threw her for a loop. As she stomped into the theater and grabbed a seat, she said, "I don't even want to see this stupid movie anymore anyway." Then she put the popcorn down in the seat next to her so I couldn't sit there. I managed to stay in my regulated/smart trauma mama mode and quietly sat in the seat next the popcorn. About halfway through the movie, she moved the popcorn and sat next to me and put her head on my shoulder.
When we were getting ready for bed, I told her how grateful I was for a nice weekend with no drama. She said, "Mom, I hate it when we yell but sometimes I just have to." I didn't say anything....because really there was nothing to say.
I love those moments when I as wise enough to see and celebrate the progress. It probably sounds minor to anyone who doesn't live with a TK. But celebrating minor victories is the key to getting to major ones. So I will celebrate that TK managed to keep herself regulated amidst disappointment and anger. And I will celebrate my ability to stay regulated and not engage in the madness. I already know my response to her dysregulation is a tremendous driver in how things play out, so I celebrate when I am able to stay where I need to be - firmly rooted in love and compassion (or at least not engaging in arguing and devolving into a partner in the dysregulation).
So for this weekend, the roller coaster smoothed out. I'm sure it will yet again send us screaming through its heights and twists, but I'm enjoying the moment to catch my breath.
Grab some grace in those small victories, trauma mamas. Any victory, no matter how small, is a tribute to your faithfulness and commitment to your TK. And that is definitely worth celebrating.
Friday, March 27, 2015
Well THAT was short lived
Sigh......imagine that lasting about 7 seconds and you're getting close. I know the healing journey is not a straight line....not for our kids, and not for us. I think Mary Chapin Carpenter hit it on the head when she said, "Some days you're the windshield, some days you're the bug. Some days you're the Louisville slugger, some days you're the ball." I have to admit being the ball pretty much stinks. (okay, I admit I edited my first comment and downgraded it to stinks....you get the gist).
You may remember I said TK had returned to a loving, affectionate, kind, temper tantrum free kid. Boy it was nice while that lasted.
I don't know what flipped, but something did. We are back to surly, disrespectful, flash temper, utterly unpredictable girl. And I must say I did NOT miss that version of TK and am not excited about having her back. I wish I could give her a permanent eviction notice, but I know I can't.
I also I wish I knew what the heck happened to flip things. The truth is I may never know. We may just have to weather this leg of the journey and hope the next leg is smoother and comes quickly. I managed to listen with my heart on Wednesday; today I wasn't in that place of compassion. I am mentally and emotionally drained. The good news is I had forgotten how exhausting it was to walk on eggshells, knowing the mood will change quickly and without warning. Some of this may be tweendom (heaven help me if it's the next phase of the girl journey), but it doesn't really matter the cause. The end result is the same- turmoil for both of us. I am struggling to stay in a place of compassion, but the weird truth is it is harder to do that since we had a good spell. You would think it would be hard to stay there when it's a constant requirement, but I saw the other side and I liked it, and I resent being back here. So I am struggling to squash that resentment and the voice in my head that says, "She managed to be be fine before, why can't she do it now?" My brain knows it is not that easy. TK doesn't even know why it is so hard right now.
So I will probably do a lot of sighing, probably way too much walking away (because I am trying not to yell, but walking away is a rejection, so it's not a great option either. But I think it's better than yelling.), a lot of praying and a fair amount of crying. And I will seek the grace to grab the sweet moments in the chaos - for they are there, I just have to remember to savor them.
Send my some grace for this leg of the journey, Trauma Mamas. I'll keep trying to hold onto the sweet moments and wait for my sweet TK to return. I know persistent, unwavering, unconditional love will unearth her again.
You may remember I said TK had returned to a loving, affectionate, kind, temper tantrum free kid. Boy it was nice while that lasted.
I don't know what flipped, but something did. We are back to surly, disrespectful, flash temper, utterly unpredictable girl. And I must say I did NOT miss that version of TK and am not excited about having her back. I wish I could give her a permanent eviction notice, but I know I can't.
I also I wish I knew what the heck happened to flip things. The truth is I may never know. We may just have to weather this leg of the journey and hope the next leg is smoother and comes quickly. I managed to listen with my heart on Wednesday; today I wasn't in that place of compassion. I am mentally and emotionally drained. The good news is I had forgotten how exhausting it was to walk on eggshells, knowing the mood will change quickly and without warning. Some of this may be tweendom (heaven help me if it's the next phase of the girl journey), but it doesn't really matter the cause. The end result is the same- turmoil for both of us. I am struggling to stay in a place of compassion, but the weird truth is it is harder to do that since we had a good spell. You would think it would be hard to stay there when it's a constant requirement, but I saw the other side and I liked it, and I resent being back here. So I am struggling to squash that resentment and the voice in my head that says, "She managed to be be fine before, why can't she do it now?" My brain knows it is not that easy. TK doesn't even know why it is so hard right now.
So I will probably do a lot of sighing, probably way too much walking away (because I am trying not to yell, but walking away is a rejection, so it's not a great option either. But I think it's better than yelling.), a lot of praying and a fair amount of crying. And I will seek the grace to grab the sweet moments in the chaos - for they are there, I just have to remember to savor them.
Send my some grace for this leg of the journey, Trauma Mamas. I'll keep trying to hold onto the sweet moments and wait for my sweet TK to return. I know persistent, unwavering, unconditional love will unearth her again.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
The Conversation Behind the Words
TK has had a hard time letting me leave from school the last few days, and hasn't wanted to go. This is not unusual, but the intensity of it is increasing, and I have been struggling to get to the root cause.
Today after school TK started an argument about something we bought. It was a ridiculous argument about when we bought it. She has been trying to start arguments multiple times every day, which is not normal. I refused to engage, and that infuriated her. She kept yelling, "Why won't you just scream at me?" She has also been saying she wants to do random acts of meanness. (We did random acts of kindness for my birthday last week).
After I walked away from the argument and breathed a little, I went back and said, "It seems like you don't think I love you unless I scream at you. I don't understand that. Can you help me understand why you feel that way? Because no matter how much I scream at you, it's never going to change how much I love you, and it's never going to make me leave you." She just kept saying she didn't know, but she needed to be mean. I just kept listening - with my heart, not my ears. The conversation finally bloomed:
TK: When I asked the teacher a question, she told me she was working with E on math and I didn't matter. Well, she really said nothing else mattered, but I'm part of nothing else.
Me: Your heart heard that you don't matter. That must have really hurt. I'm so sorry your teacher chose words that were hurtful.
TK: She shouldn't have said that. It made me feel like nothing.
Me: And when you're mean you feel like something. It makes you feel not invisible.
TK: Yeah.
Me: So when you're mean you matter.
TK: Yeah.
Me: You know when I was young I felt like I didn't matter.
TK: What did you do?
Me: I tried to be perfect. I never got into trouble, I always got good grades. I thought if I was good enough I would matter.
TK: So what happened?
Me: It never worked. The only thing that made me matter was me just believing I DID matter, no matter what I did. I matter just because I do, because God made me and He thinks I matter.
TK: I don't know how to do that.
Me: Then we'll work on that.
TK: I don't like my new school sometimes.
Me: (trying not to respond to the fear that immediately screams into my head - Oh no, I'm going to have to homeschool her. We'll never survive!) We need to talk to your teacher about how she says things. She has had most of the kids for years, so she figures they know what she means. But you haven't been there that long, so we need to help her communicate with you in a way that works better for you.
TK: I'm scared to do that. I don't know her that well yet. What if she gets mad?
Me: I don't think she will, but I'll talk to her. She wants you to feel safe and happy. Remember how every year we have to teach your teachers what works for you? You haven't been at the school that long, and we haven't really had the conversation with your teacher yet.
TK: Can we go jump on the trampoline now?
Me: Yep.
So now is the really hard part. I really can't fix this, and that's a challenge. Sometimes all you can do is listen and love, and wait for the growth that will get your TK through the current challenge. As a mama, that hurts. As a trauma mama, it is a given that you will have to do this many many times. We cannot solve our TK's problems. All we can do is give them the tools to use and the unconditional love that hopefully gives them the strength and courage to try.
I'm trying not to freak out. Every time TK says she doesn't like her new school or she misses her old school (which happens when she hears they did something fun like roller skating), I panic. I so desperately want this school drama to be over. It is exhausting and feels like it has been going on forever. I remind myself that "I don't like something" equals "I'm uncomfortable/I'm scared". But honestly it still scares me.
I'm giving myself kudos for finding the grace to listen with my heart tonight. It has been a while since I've been able to do that. Hopefully I'll get some grace from the teacher - she has great intentions, but is not versed in trauma and that can be a challenge.
Give yourselves some grace for rising to the challenge - even when you don't rise very far. ESPECIALLY when you don't rise very far. This is tough stuff, and it's a marathon, so you will stumble sometimes and need to sit on the sidelines. But trauma mamas always come back and keep running.
Today after school TK started an argument about something we bought. It was a ridiculous argument about when we bought it. She has been trying to start arguments multiple times every day, which is not normal. I refused to engage, and that infuriated her. She kept yelling, "Why won't you just scream at me?" She has also been saying she wants to do random acts of meanness. (We did random acts of kindness for my birthday last week).
After I walked away from the argument and breathed a little, I went back and said, "It seems like you don't think I love you unless I scream at you. I don't understand that. Can you help me understand why you feel that way? Because no matter how much I scream at you, it's never going to change how much I love you, and it's never going to make me leave you." She just kept saying she didn't know, but she needed to be mean. I just kept listening - with my heart, not my ears. The conversation finally bloomed:
TK: When I asked the teacher a question, she told me she was working with E on math and I didn't matter. Well, she really said nothing else mattered, but I'm part of nothing else.
Me: Your heart heard that you don't matter. That must have really hurt. I'm so sorry your teacher chose words that were hurtful.
TK: She shouldn't have said that. It made me feel like nothing.
Me: And when you're mean you feel like something. It makes you feel not invisible.
TK: Yeah.
Me: So when you're mean you matter.
TK: Yeah.
Me: You know when I was young I felt like I didn't matter.
TK: What did you do?
Me: I tried to be perfect. I never got into trouble, I always got good grades. I thought if I was good enough I would matter.
TK: So what happened?
Me: It never worked. The only thing that made me matter was me just believing I DID matter, no matter what I did. I matter just because I do, because God made me and He thinks I matter.
TK: I don't know how to do that.
Me: Then we'll work on that.
TK: I don't like my new school sometimes.
Me: (trying not to respond to the fear that immediately screams into my head - Oh no, I'm going to have to homeschool her. We'll never survive!) We need to talk to your teacher about how she says things. She has had most of the kids for years, so she figures they know what she means. But you haven't been there that long, so we need to help her communicate with you in a way that works better for you.
TK: I'm scared to do that. I don't know her that well yet. What if she gets mad?
Me: I don't think she will, but I'll talk to her. She wants you to feel safe and happy. Remember how every year we have to teach your teachers what works for you? You haven't been at the school that long, and we haven't really had the conversation with your teacher yet.
TK: Can we go jump on the trampoline now?
Me: Yep.
So now is the really hard part. I really can't fix this, and that's a challenge. Sometimes all you can do is listen and love, and wait for the growth that will get your TK through the current challenge. As a mama, that hurts. As a trauma mama, it is a given that you will have to do this many many times. We cannot solve our TK's problems. All we can do is give them the tools to use and the unconditional love that hopefully gives them the strength and courage to try.
I'm trying not to freak out. Every time TK says she doesn't like her new school or she misses her old school (which happens when she hears they did something fun like roller skating), I panic. I so desperately want this school drama to be over. It is exhausting and feels like it has been going on forever. I remind myself that "I don't like something" equals "I'm uncomfortable/I'm scared". But honestly it still scares me.
I'm giving myself kudos for finding the grace to listen with my heart tonight. It has been a while since I've been able to do that. Hopefully I'll get some grace from the teacher - she has great intentions, but is not versed in trauma and that can be a challenge.
Give yourselves some grace for rising to the challenge - even when you don't rise very far. ESPECIALLY when you don't rise very far. This is tough stuff, and it's a marathon, so you will stumble sometimes and need to sit on the sidelines. But trauma mamas always come back and keep running.
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Down the Rabbit Hole
It has been an exceptionally challenging few weeks here. Generally, the new school has been good, and on the whole TK is less stressed, more outwardly loving, more relaxed. So it seems an oxymoron that we are regularly going down the rabbit hole.
Truthfully it's me.....TK's trauma behaviors have not changed that much, if at all, but I am utterly intolerant of them right now. I'm struggling to figure out why, and I've made some headway, I think. Some of it is fear. I have spent so long not fighting the small battles (e.g., letting her "win") that I fear she is turning into a self-centered, greedy kid. It's such a difficult line. It truly is not worth fighting battles over most of the trauma behaviors, and I know that trauma behavior is not manipulative, it is fear based, but even I wonder sometimes.....not so much about the potential manipulation, but the impact of the outcome. Does TK think she should always get her way because I don't fight those battles? Or am I just suffering from a severe case of burnout? (Probably the latter. The reality is I haven't been away from TK for more than 16 hours in almost 5 years. I desperately need to be away long enough to miss her, but while our support system is slooowly improving, I don't see how the logistics can work out for that. But I need it. I know it.)
The other factor is probably my own crud. Heather Forbes says our trauma kids point out our own brokenness, and this is definitely true in my case. I have been attacking my own brokenness for the last year, and have made headway, but there is still definitely work to be done. So when TK gets "greedy, self-centered", it pushes all my "unworthy, not valuable" buttons. I have prayed a lot lately about sharing some of that journey. It is so integral to what happens with TK. I have written some poems (my form of journaling) I call "Modern Psalms for the Journey", and they are, to quote Glennon Melton (Momastery), "brutiful". While my journey is not TK's, it certainly affects her. In truth, she inspired me to take my own journey to healing. I realized I could not get her further in her healing until I got myself healed (or at least on the path). So TK is the catalyst for making life better, making myself stronger, and healing our family. I'll keep praying about sharing that.....feel free to weigh in.
How do I stop going down the rabbit hole with TK when there is no break in sight? And, heaven help me, summer is two short months away. PANIC! Honest answer - I have no idea. But with God's mercy and a heaping helping of grace, we'll make it through this rough patch just as we have all the others.
I am grateful for His grace every day. And I am grateful that no matter how far down the rabbit hole we go, we always apologize and move forward.
I've been putting notes in TK's lunchbox every day called "things I love about TK". One day I wrote "I love how you are willing to forgive. It takes a lot of courage to let go of hurts. I am so proud that you are willing to have re-dos." Later that day all hades broke loose. In the aftermath, TK gave me a note that said: "Things I love about Mom. She loves me even when she's angry with me. Can we have a re-do?"
That was grace in action. Moments like that remind me that I'm doing some part of this right, and for that I am grateful.
Hang tight to grace, trauma mamas. Some days it's all that gets us through.
Truthfully it's me.....TK's trauma behaviors have not changed that much, if at all, but I am utterly intolerant of them right now. I'm struggling to figure out why, and I've made some headway, I think. Some of it is fear. I have spent so long not fighting the small battles (e.g., letting her "win") that I fear she is turning into a self-centered, greedy kid. It's such a difficult line. It truly is not worth fighting battles over most of the trauma behaviors, and I know that trauma behavior is not manipulative, it is fear based, but even I wonder sometimes.....not so much about the potential manipulation, but the impact of the outcome. Does TK think she should always get her way because I don't fight those battles? Or am I just suffering from a severe case of burnout? (Probably the latter. The reality is I haven't been away from TK for more than 16 hours in almost 5 years. I desperately need to be away long enough to miss her, but while our support system is slooowly improving, I don't see how the logistics can work out for that. But I need it. I know it.)
The other factor is probably my own crud. Heather Forbes says our trauma kids point out our own brokenness, and this is definitely true in my case. I have been attacking my own brokenness for the last year, and have made headway, but there is still definitely work to be done. So when TK gets "greedy, self-centered", it pushes all my "unworthy, not valuable" buttons. I have prayed a lot lately about sharing some of that journey. It is so integral to what happens with TK. I have written some poems (my form of journaling) I call "Modern Psalms for the Journey", and they are, to quote Glennon Melton (Momastery), "brutiful". While my journey is not TK's, it certainly affects her. In truth, she inspired me to take my own journey to healing. I realized I could not get her further in her healing until I got myself healed (or at least on the path). So TK is the catalyst for making life better, making myself stronger, and healing our family. I'll keep praying about sharing that.....feel free to weigh in.
How do I stop going down the rabbit hole with TK when there is no break in sight? And, heaven help me, summer is two short months away. PANIC! Honest answer - I have no idea. But with God's mercy and a heaping helping of grace, we'll make it through this rough patch just as we have all the others.
I am grateful for His grace every day. And I am grateful that no matter how far down the rabbit hole we go, we always apologize and move forward.
I've been putting notes in TK's lunchbox every day called "things I love about TK". One day I wrote "I love how you are willing to forgive. It takes a lot of courage to let go of hurts. I am so proud that you are willing to have re-dos." Later that day all hades broke loose. In the aftermath, TK gave me a note that said: "Things I love about Mom. She loves me even when she's angry with me. Can we have a re-do?"
That was grace in action. Moments like that remind me that I'm doing some part of this right, and for that I am grateful.
Hang tight to grace, trauma mamas. Some days it's all that gets us through.
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