The voices in my head

One of the benefits of going through challenges is that you learn, gain perspective, and are, at least in theory, better able to handle the next challenge that arises.  Having been in the trauma trenches for 6 years, I've had the chance to gain perspective, but I haven't had the advantage of sitting back, saying, "Well that sucked", examining what I would do differently the next time and moving on to the next challenge.  This challenge doesn't really give you that pause, so you find yourself analyzing and adjusting on the fly.  Yes, there are definitely times when things are pretty calm, but I admit I don't yet have complete peace in those times. While I'm not walking on eggshells as I did in our earlier trauma phases, I still am highly vigilant because I know the trauma monster is still under the bed, waiting to come out and wreak some havoc.  

Inevitably I start to analyze what isn't working - specifically how I've goofed up - when I'm sitting next to my girl after a meltdown, trying to breathe in and impart peace and compassion.  I'll get back to this in a minute, but first, as usual, I'll digress.

We had a remarkably good winter break.  19 days is a looooong time to be together with little break, but we had very few and very small trauma monster moments.  This was exceptionally remarkable because we had some family drama that could have easily thrown TK into a tizzy.  We banged heads a few times, but it was minor and could just as well be attributed to tweendom.  Since the break we've had illness, snow days, work days, and basically no down time for mom.  This means I have to dig even harder to stay in a place of compassion when TK goes into trauma mode, and inevitably this is the time she will.

Yesterday she was upstairs working on a "special project" for over an hour. She brought it downstairs to present it to me. It was a banner made of individual pages hung on a string.  Each page had one letter and it said "Don't let anyone dull your sparkle."  Well, that was what it was meant to say.  She had the third and fourth letters out of order.  She went into full on trauma mode, crumpled and tore it up and threw it out the front door.  Then she grabbed a sticker out of a sticker book and put it on my arm, yelling, "Here. Here's your present now!"  I dig through my mental inventory and came up with......nothing.  I just said, "I am so sorry that didn't work. I appreciate how much time you put into it and I know you're really frustrated."  Then I just got quiet and puttered around,  picking up things. She went into her room and slammed the door.  I will tell you that after 6 years I still never know if I'm supposed to go through that door or not.  The rules change every day, it seems.  If I go she'll often yell at me to go away. If I don't go she'll often yell through the door, "It would be nice if someone would check on me!"  

Later that day she sat next to me and said very softly, "Mom, I don't know why I got so mad.  I'm really sorry."  All was well.......until........fast forward to 3 AM.  TK comes into my room and says she had a nightmare. I jump out of bed to turn her back to her bedroom, and she is ticked. She wants to sleep in my bed.  Nope, not happening.  I find it nearly impossible to sleep with her restless, nearly adult size body thrashing around in my bed, and I am not willing to sacrifice my sleep right now. I am already running on empty after the break, snow days, etc.  I walk her back to her room and she is steaming.  I turn on her sound machine and she slaps it off.  I sit on the floor and start patting her. 

As I'm patting her the voices in my head start analyzing all the things I've done wrong with her.  Not self-flagellation, just the realization that certain things didn't necessarily turn out to my favor in the long run.. For example, TK has really never had a babysitter. She had such huge trust issues when she was younger that I just never went anywhere.  As she got older, she had a select few people she felt safe with, and I never pushed beyond that comfort zone.  A dear friend is getting married this spring and we were discussing her bachelorette party the other day.  Last night as I sat on the floor patting this angry tween (who was still huffing and flipping and expressing her displeasure as many ways as possible without words), I realized I couldn't go to the bachelorette party because who would watch TK?  Then I wondered if my approach to making her feel safe was really the best answer.  Perhaps making her world so small was too limiting.  The balance of what she needs in the moment with what I need is ridiculously hard, and I've always chosen her needs.  It wasn't totally altruistic, because addressing her needs made our life calmer and our family much happier.  But as we venture further down this road, I sometimes wonder how to move out of the place of  "TK first".  She has a much improved ability to self-regulate, and the challenge now is knowing how far to push her.  I utterly believe that pushing your comfort zone is the key to amazing growth, but pushing hers too far has dire consequences.  The thought of getting back into full trauma mode is enough to turn my knees to jelly, but I will continue to try to walk that fine line between TK being uncomfortable and TK being dysregulated.

Send me some grace as I grapple with this.  Take a minute and let yourself say, "Well, this sucks."  Then tell the voices in your head to just hush and give yourself some grace as you think about what didn't work so well.  Because the truth, Trauma Mamas, is we are all totally making this up as we go along, and for the most part we do pretty well.  Given the beast we are fighting, I'd say pretty well is amazing.
 

"It doesn't happen that often"

I've been pondering something that happened today, and I'm not honestly sure how I feel about it, so I may meander in my blogging as I think this through.

To set the stage:   TK and I were out with a (new) friend today. After about 2 hours of ice skating/arcade/hanging we headed to Culver's to get some ice cream. As we were all getting ready to leave, my friend said to TK, "It was nice to meet you."  TK said nothing.  I know she has better manners than this, so I nudged, whispering (she was in my lap) "And....".  She looked at me, turned to my friend and said, "Not really."  I popped into reactive mom mode and quickly said, "You know that is not the appropriate response.  Try again with the right response. 'Nice to meet you too' is sufficient."  She muttered it, rather rudely.  I called her on it again, and she flung her arm back and her hand hit my face.  She may not have been aiming for my face, but she meant to make contact. 

I can, once out of the moment, understand it.  I embarrassed her in front of someone (new, worse yet), which immediately triggered her trauma brain into thinking "this person will think I'm stupid/bad/not lovable"'; "Mom will think I'm stupid/bad/unlovable"; "I AM stupid/bad/unlovable."  Yes, it really does move from something inconsequential to complete rejection that quickly in a TK's brain.  

My friend wasn't nearly as appalled as she might have been.  She was surprised (I wasn't) to see TK try to hit me.  I have had many people be appalled on my behalf.  Perhaps I should be more appalled.  Internally I am......my brain jumps into the "how dare you disrespect your mom" mode, but I do my best to externally stay out of that reactive place with her.  And most people think my lack of of reaction is condoning her behavior.  Rest assured, she knows it's not okay. She came to me tonight and apologized (a heartfelt apology) for being rude and hitting me. She tried to downplay it by saying, "I didn't mean to hit you, I just wanted you to stop talking."  I called her on that, but gently.  "Yes, you did mean to hit me because you were embarrassed and angry. You know that's not okay.  We need to find a better way to tell me I'm embarrassing you.  Maybe we can come up with a signal you can use."  TK agreed to think about it. I'm sure we'll come up with something.

So I'm sitting here wondering why I'm not more appalled when she hits/kicks/is rude.  It's not because I think it's okay. It may be partly because compared to what used to happen, this is nothing.  It may be because (to give myself credit) I know being appalled doesn't solve anything. Reacting in the moment doesn't solve anything. Expressing how hurt and embarrassed I am in that moment doesn't solve anything.  

I remind myself that not reacting to behavior doesn't mean accepting it.  TK has reached the point of maturity where she will, without prompting, feel regret and apologize for her loss of control.  I DO wish I could wave a magic wand or just yell "You can't DO that!" and it would stop.  Sadly that won't work.  What works is what has worked so far.....consistent, unfailing love, analyzing the behavior after everyone is calm, discussing new alternatives, and being grateful that we are making progress.  

I had a friend tell me I was just making excuses for TK by saying it didn't happen that often.  I told her that statement was more for me than anyone else.  I remember the time when massive meltdowns with things being thrown (at me and in general), hitting, screaming, and slamming doors happened multiple times in a day.  The fact that TK has much more control over her emotions and actions is a victory that cannot be understated.  It has taken us years of tears, prayers, and brutally hard work to get to this place where "it doesn't happen that often", so I will celebrate that.  I will celebrate even more when we get to the place where "that never happens anymore."  I believe we will get there.  

So grant me the grace of compassion when you see TK lose it.  It is a journey, and yes, we have come miles down the healing road.  But the journey is long, and there will be setbacks on the way.  I expect them, but they often still surprise me. I don't welcome them, but I know we will come out the other side.  I promise to grant you the same grace when your TK comes undone.  You will see it in my compassionate smile and my nod to you that says, "Hang in there, Trauma Mama, you are doing a great job." Know I am not making judgments about how "I can't believe you're letting your TK get away with that."  There are plenty of others who will make those judgments, and many of them will share that with you.  Try to extend grace to those who proffer those opinions, knowing they don't understand the healing process for TKs.

Sending you grace for your moments, whether they "don't happen that often" or you're still in the walking on eggshells mode.  Try to ignore the folks who tell you you're enabling bad behavior, letting your TK rule the roost, etc.  Parenting a TK is a different journey than parenting a non-TK.  Trauma healing is truly the journey of a lifetime.  There's no map and you will often feel lost, but you keep on going because the destination is beautiful.

The view from the outside

We were hanging out with some of our nearest and dearest on Thanksgiving, and the meal was followed by a no holds barred, rules out the window, laugh til you puke basketball game.  TK and I were on separate teams. At one point I (foolishly) guarded her and she tripped over my foot.  She wiped out, got up, kicked me in the shin, I apologized that she fell, and the game went on.  As we drove home later, TK apologized for kicking me.  I truly gave it no further thought.  

The next day one of my nearest and dearest called to say there was some concern among our other nearest and dearest who saw TK kick me.  I honestly had to think for a minute to remember if she had kicked me. You're probably thinking I totally blew it off and "shouldn't ignore that kind of behavior."  But the reality is we have mastered moving past the crud.  She apologized, we talked about what she could do differently the next time she felt like kicking me, and it was done. I truly put it behind me.  That is a gift I have learned. If I kept all the bad stuff before me I would live with constant anger and annoyance and get stuck. I am so grateful I have learned how to let go.  

The phone call was a great reminder to me.....a reminder that I can still provide insight and education into things that I take for granted.  So let me enlighten what caused TK's behavior.

TK dearly loves the people that were playing and watching the game.  When she tripped, her very black and white trauma thinking kicked into overdrive, knowing with absolute certainty that whomever saw her fall would: - think she was no good at basketball; - think she was clumsy; - think she was stupid; - think she was unlovable. That fear of rejection overwhelmed her and she lashed out.

You wonder how it went from a skinned knee to absolute rejection in under 2 seconds?  Me too, but I have accepted that I will never understand why the trauma brain thinks what it thinks, I just accept that it does.  I know the physiology and technical explanations, but in truth it makes no sense. It just is.  

Luckily TK seldom feels that overwhelmed anymore. It is more likely to happen in high value emotional situations (like that with your "friend family", who could reject you because they chose to take you into their circle, so they can choose to kick you out).  

I am so grateful for the gift of those nearest and dearest who were worried enough to reach out and make sure we were okay. While I admit my alarm bells go off at first (because honestly, no matter how much I deny it, I still freak when TK's trauma rears its head in front of others), the love and desire to understand that comes from the people who love us is a precious gift.

Hold on tight to the grace of the people who love you, especially when they love you in spite of the trauma crud.  Remember that questions often come from a desire to understand and not from a desire to judge.  Grab the grace of hearing your TK apologize when she blows it, and extend the grace of doing the same.

Remember that the "outside" view is one snippet of your long challenge of healing your TK.  It a great opportunity to reflect on your progress (go you!) and bring understanding to those who seek it.

Keep on chugging, Trauma Mamas.  You might get kicked in the shins sometimes, but that gives you both a chance to seek and grant grace, and practice letting go. Grace and forgiveness - we all need more of both.

The Gifts of Trauma

I know, seems crazy, doesn't it? How can something as destructive as trauma have gifts?  How can something that you declare war on and fight seemingly endless battles with have any benefit?

It took me years to recognize any benefit at all to this Trauma existence.  And yes, I would much rather my sweet kid NOT be a TK, but since she is, and I am a Trauma Mama, I have to remind myself to look for the progress, the victories, and the gifts on this journey.

The first gifts are to me. I am ridiculously more patient now than I was before I was a trauma mama. I have truly learned what the small stuff is, and it really is most stuff.   When you spend years relearning from the most fundamental level how to parent, you realize that so much of what goes on really is small stuff.  What's the big stuff? Safety (physical and emotional),  forgiveness (known in our house as do-overs), courage, love.  That's what changes things. That's what makes this war winnable. 

I am also much more compassionate and less judgmental. See a child having a hairy tantrum for no apparent reason? I've been there, and I empathize with that parent and wonder what trauma that poor scared kid has faced/is facing.  Watch an adult freak out for no reason? Okay, so that's a bit harder, but I remember the days where I have used up every iota of my energy dealing with TK and find empathy for them.  My 10 year old TK crying and sobbing and generally losing it for no apparent reason? I remember there is always a reason (even if it makes no sense to me), so I try to discern it. I blew it big time (again?) I try to give myself compassion and grace and remember that this trauma mama stuff is exhausting and hard.

I now actively look for the signs of progress and try to remember to celebrate them. This forces me to pay more attention to what's going on in our lives, which makes me more present.  The other day I was a crabby, tired, trauma mama (utterly independent of TK's stuff), and TK took it in stride, never once raised her voice or slammed her door.  That may not sound like much, but that was huge. TK managed to stay regulated when I WASN'T!  Normally it takes me being completely regulated (or faking it) to get her to a place of emotional safety, but she stayed there in spite of my dysregulation. 

Trauma has given gifts to TK too.  She is so compassionate and truly aches for hurting hearts.  When she hears about a challenge another child has, you can see her face change and her heart soften.  She is drawn to the outsiders, the misunderstood. As TK says, "I know how it feels to have challenges no one sees and have people not like you because of them."  When we see someone acting badly, we will often comment, "I wonder what challenges they're facing that we can't see."  It's a great reminder to us both. Viewing the world through the lens of compassion changes you - for the better.

Tk is also incredibly courageous.  She moves more and more outside her comfort zone, and for a TK, that is a huge deal. She goes into situations now where she doesn't know anyone (like her first basketball practice), without anyone to "keep her safe" and she deals with it.  Walking into that sort of situation would have been untenable 1 year ago.  I have the gift of seeing that progress.

The biggest gift of trauma is that it makes me a better person. I have had to dig deep and deal with my own trauma, find strength and courage and patience and compassion and forgiveness beyond any I had called on before.  So I have grown as much as TK has. 

So yes, trauma is a gift. It's not one you want, and the return policy sucks.  But in those moments, scant they may be, that you are not head down/nose to the grindstone of day to day trauma living (some days trauma surviving), look up and see the amazing things your TK has achieved, and the amazing things YOU have achieved. Give yourself the grace of knowing this unwanted gift is one of the hardest things you will ever do, and there are times you will fail, but your courage and love always prevail.  Being a trauma mama is hard. But hang tough, trauma mamas. Look at the gifts you have and those you are acquiring and know you are enough for your TK.

Well, THAT didn't go as planned

TK was proudly showing her work to our dear friend, who is a teacher.  That dear friend mentioned to me later that TK's work looked representative of dysgraphia, and I should look it up and see what I thought. I did, and it seemed feasible. I called TK's old OT and asked her what she thought and she said, "Definitely!'. So I'm on a mission to learn more about dysgraphia and how to deal with it.  (Because swell, we need a learning disability on top of trauma.)  The best I can figure so far is it's related to dyslexia, except where dyslexia affects reading, dysgraphia affects writing.

This all comes into play later in tonight's drama, so let me back up.

TK wanted to go the big library after school today. Our budget is at the "ravage the coin jar for gas money" stage until I get paid in a few days, so I'm trying to conserve gas. As the big library is the opposite way from home and traffic would bog down considerably, I nixed that and told her we would go to the small local library. She expressed her displeasure by flipping the pages in her notebook as loudly as possible.  (I never knew a notebook could sound so angry). 

TK's current passion (obsession) is Carrie Underwood. She writes stories about her, listens to her music, and watches her videos over and over and over and over.....as tween girls will.  So she was looking for a Carrie Underwood book. No surprise, the small local library didn't have one.  So more huffing and puffing and "why couldn't we go to the big library like I wanted?" ensued. I took the well, if not exactly high, middle road and ignored it (other than some quiet teeth grinding).

There was a reprieve when we got home and she discovered that Carrie Underwood was in Soul Surfer and it was free On Demand.  I told her she could watch it but needed to do spelling and empty the dishwasher (yes, I'm an ogre). It turns out Soul Surfer, while wonderful, is a VERY long movie that took us right to ten minutes before bedtime. When I told TK it was time for spelling I got the "But I'm tired" deal. So I launched into reactive mom- "That's fine, but from now on no TV until spelling is done, chores are done, etc.  And we're going back to our rules of no TV on Wednesdays and I'm cutting back on TV time." (Truthfully I have been lazy and let her watch more than our prescribed limit because I am very much in the "Mom needs a break"mode).  This met with the normal screaming, "You're so mean, it's not fair, I have too many chores, no one else has chores"......etc, etc.  (Yes, those 3 chores you have are indeed onerous).  I responded in kind. "I can guarantee you that most of your friends have far more chores than you do.  You are 10 years old and need to take some responsibility for being part of this family. I am sick of being your personal servant" etc, etc.  (I really should record that personal servant bit....it is a recurring theme in my rants).

At this point TK stormed by me, grabbed my reading glasses off my face and threw them.  I did not explode (externally), but I did put my hand up to her and say, "I am going to my room because I am very angry. You can pick up my glasses and get ready for bed. I will be there in a few minutes."  Of course, in typical TK style, she wandered through my closed door (without knocking) and I immediately said, "I did not invite you in here. You need to go to your room and get ready for bed."  TK: "I was bringing you your stupid glasses!" Me: "I didn't ask you to bring me my glasses, I asked you to pick them up."  TK stormed out, slamming the door. I ground my teeth and tried to breathe.  

When I calmed down I headed to TK's room to read. She greeted me with the wadded up spelling list, ranting, "Spelling is stupid. Who cares if you can spell anyway?"  (At this point, aware that my Trauma Mama mode was in hiatus, I was in for a penny, in for a pound). Me: "Spelling is important as you go through life."  TK: " I can spell. I'm not stupid.  I wrote those Carrie Underwood songs and they were all spelled right."  Me: "Actually, they weren't. Look in your journal and you'll see that every is spelled 'evrey'".  (I know, I know, what WAS the point? I seemed determined to drive the bus through the guardrail and off the cliff.)  TK: "So maybe I am just stupid. Or maybe my teacher was yelling at me while I was writing because I'm stupid."

Me, finally getting a LITTLE bit out of  "going off the cliff" mode and into some compassion, "Actually, there's a reason spelling is hard for you."  I went on to simply explain dysgraphia and told her it was not anything to be scared about. "Just like you need glasses to see, we need to figure out what kind of glasses your brain needs so it doesn't hiccup when you write. A lot of people have this. Spelling is hard because your brain has this hiccup, not because you're not smart."  When I told her one tool was using a word processor and spellcheck rather than writing by hand, she yelled, "I"m not using stupid spellcheck!"  At that point Trauma Mama reappeared and said, "It's scary, isn't it?"  TK harrumphed, "I'm NOT scared."  So I just started reading.  After about two minutes I heard a soft, "I'm sorry, Mom." I apologized in kind and kept reading.

It will be interesting (and, I hope, not tumultuous) the next few days as TK processes what I told her. I expect she will yet again amaze me with her courage and strength.   

So yeah, bedtime after a mutual meltdown is definitely not how or when I had planned to broach this topic with her, but......

I could definitely have used some more grace tonight as I lost my cool and went into Mom rant #703. Luckily there is grace in apologies and forgiveness, and we are good at both of those in our house.

Give yourselves grace when your Trauma Mamas go on hiatus.  They always come back, and your TK knows she's there, loving and believing through it all.

Trauma Mama Fears

Love conquers fear. I truly believe that.  And I know that love has conquered, or at least eased, many of TK's fears over the last 5-1/2 years.  But love has not conquered mine.

My fears are not so much for the future. Those fears I have managed to put in the "don't waste energy on this" closet and shut the door.  My fears are more day to day. 

My primary fear is social. When TK is playing with a group and I hear the voices escalate (as I know they normally do), I feel myself tense up and wait for the explosion.  I know as the mom of an only child, I am not accustomed to the normal squabbling that occurs among children.  I know I am incredibly hypersensitive from the past.  I know these things, but I still panic.  When the squabbling starts, I am mentally creating the apology speech, the explanation, and steeling myself for the rejection that will result.

When I am with friends and the kids are playing, I'm sure they think I am ignoring them. I know my eyes are frantically searching for TK, looking for the warning signs that the meltdown is imminent.  I know my ears are not fully listening because they are craned to hear any "warning signs".  I know I am building a wall to protect myself when the worst happens.

Love conquers fear.  I know it does and will conquer TK's.  I think only time with conquer mine.  Every time we have a successful social interaction, my fear should lessen. Honestly, it doesn't yet.  I am anxious for the day it does.  

So give me some grace when we're together and I'm not all there.  Some day I hope I can be fully present with you and stop fearing what may happen with TK. Some day I hope I can laugh at the kid squabbles, ignore the rising voices and have peace in my heart when TK is engaged in a group.  Some day........

So until some day, I will grab the grace of a friend who "gets it" saying, "It's okay, they're just playing" or "Even if it goes south, it's still okay."  Some day I'll believe the "it's okay" part.  In the meantime, I'll keep loving, knowing if my love conquers enough of TK's fear, mine will abate too.

The Bless in the Mess

I'm taking part in a Bible Study called "Let.It.Go."  Being a Trauma Mama, I definitely have a leg up on this one!

Trauma Mamas (and Daddies, Grandparents, Siblings, etc) play "let it go" all the time (and not the Elsa version).  It starts when the trauma rears up. The first thing you let go is your vision of your family. For me it meant letting go of the idea that our days would be filled with friends and carefree times.  When the trauma became evident, there wasn't anything carefree or friend-filled about our days.  Our days were about survival.....white knuckles, tears streaming, on your knees praying, us against the world survival.  

After you let go of the vision of your family, you let go of your vision of your child's future. You learn that getting through trauma is a day to day thing, and planning 10 years from now is impossible. Many times, planning two hours ahead is impossible. You let go of thinking you can follow through on plans for play dates and outings, knowing there are times you must hunker into your "small world" and focus on making your TK feel safe.  You (try to) let go of the disappointment and pain of telling a friend yet one more time at the last minute that you can't make the skating rink/play date/movie, knowing this may be the time that they walk away and don't call again.   You let go of visions of carefree times at the park chatting with other moms, knowing you will be in hyper vigilant mode, watching for the first signs of overwhelm so you can insert that "time in" that will (hopefully) avert the reactive hitting/yelling/throwing trucks at someone's head that occurs when your TK suddenly feels threatened.

You let go of your need to understand why your TK does the things she does, and just accept that you will never understand that state level of fear that is insidiously embedded in your TK's mind.  

You let go of carefree holidays and vacations, knowing the lack of structure/change of routine/invasion of loving relatives is all change and stress to your TK. Instead you guardedly schedule get-togethers, planting the seed with others that you may have to cancel/leave early and seemingly inexplicably.  You dread the long break from school because you know it will drain you of every ounce of patience and energy you have.  

You let go of many things, or you go crazy trying to hold on to them.  Letting go is scary, but it is powerful.  When you let go you leave room to let other things in.  You let IN watching your TK heal and grow. You let IN getting stronger and more patient and less judgmental. You let IN compassion. You let IN grace.  And letting go of everything else is nothing compared to gaining compassion and grace.  With compassion and grace we can heal our TKs, our families, and ourselves.  

Grab the grace of letting go. It will scare you to death and empower you beyond words.  Sit with grace and compassion and know you are the strong, powerful, loving Trauma Mama you are, and your TK is blessed to have you.