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).
Thursday, January 11, 2018
Tuesday, November 21, 2017
Painful truths
As we move along our trauma journey of healing, I continue to learn new things - most of which I never wanted to learn. Today was no exception.
Last week TK and her counselor came up with new goals. TK's goals included being less angry and being kinder. I am all in favor of that. While I know TK's anger is a manifestation of fear, knowing that does not automatically imbue me with the ability to always respond from a place of compassion. It's exhausting being with someone who is frequently angry. I realized that afresh because the last two days were awesome. TK was silly and loving; I got hugs (very rare) and "I love yous". She even gave me a Wonder Woman ornament for our Christmas tree and told me, "I bought it because you're always my Wonder Woman." I had honestly forgotten how much fun it could be to hang with TK. When she is happy she exudes joy and a zest for life and a sense of silliness that is contagious. It's been so long that since I had a real hug from her that it threw me when I realized she was taller than I am. I knew that, but hadn't been hugged by her since she topped me in height.
The painful realizations are just that - painful. The reality is TK is often angry (aka scared), and her "last man standing and the last man is always going to me" approach (a classic survival mode response) tends to not leave people wanting to give her grace. She is champion of the underdog, which is wonderful, but the way she stands up for them is to annihilate the person who is challenging the underdog. This leads other people to tell TK she's mean or rude. One even went so far as to tell her she was going to hell because she is not a nice person. (Yeah, that led to a mom to mom phone call.) I know TK is frustrated by her inability to regulate her reactions. She is much better about than she was when she was younger, but there is still a long way to go.
I can only imagine how exhausting it is for her to feel scared and, therefore, angry so much of the time. I wonder what I could have done differently to help her. When did the fear and anger outweigh the joy and frivolity? Why didn't I find a way to lessen the fear sooner ? When did I give in to the anger and respond with resignation instead of determination to move her past it?
The other, related, painful reality is that while there a number of people who love TK, some of them don't actually like her. They love her because they love me, but they don't enjoy her company or really want to spend time with her. I get it....she's tough. But it breaks my heart, because behind the anger and fear is a kind, compassionate, wildly funny person who loves with her whole heart and would die defending the people she loves.
We are working hard to make that part of TK stronger. That part has at least appeared for a while this week; it's been a really long time since it has been here. I miss that version of TK, and I long for the day that part of TK trumps the scared and angry part.
I'm trying to give myself some grace for resigning myself to the anger and fear instead of fighting it. Give yourself some as well. This journey is ridiculously hard. Grab those moments where the joy comes forth and let yourself breathe deeply and just enjoy it. It probably won't last, but it might just give you the grace and emotional energy to get you through the next cycle of fear and anger.
Last week TK and her counselor came up with new goals. TK's goals included being less angry and being kinder. I am all in favor of that. While I know TK's anger is a manifestation of fear, knowing that does not automatically imbue me with the ability to always respond from a place of compassion. It's exhausting being with someone who is frequently angry. I realized that afresh because the last two days were awesome. TK was silly and loving; I got hugs (very rare) and "I love yous". She even gave me a Wonder Woman ornament for our Christmas tree and told me, "I bought it because you're always my Wonder Woman." I had honestly forgotten how much fun it could be to hang with TK. When she is happy she exudes joy and a zest for life and a sense of silliness that is contagious. It's been so long that since I had a real hug from her that it threw me when I realized she was taller than I am. I knew that, but hadn't been hugged by her since she topped me in height.
The painful realizations are just that - painful. The reality is TK is often angry (aka scared), and her "last man standing and the last man is always going to me" approach (a classic survival mode response) tends to not leave people wanting to give her grace. She is champion of the underdog, which is wonderful, but the way she stands up for them is to annihilate the person who is challenging the underdog. This leads other people to tell TK she's mean or rude. One even went so far as to tell her she was going to hell because she is not a nice person. (Yeah, that led to a mom to mom phone call.) I know TK is frustrated by her inability to regulate her reactions. She is much better about than she was when she was younger, but there is still a long way to go.
I can only imagine how exhausting it is for her to feel scared and, therefore, angry so much of the time. I wonder what I could have done differently to help her. When did the fear and anger outweigh the joy and frivolity? Why didn't I find a way to lessen the fear sooner ? When did I give in to the anger and respond with resignation instead of determination to move her past it?
The other, related, painful reality is that while there a number of people who love TK, some of them don't actually like her. They love her because they love me, but they don't enjoy her company or really want to spend time with her. I get it....she's tough. But it breaks my heart, because behind the anger and fear is a kind, compassionate, wildly funny person who loves with her whole heart and would die defending the people she loves.
We are working hard to make that part of TK stronger. That part has at least appeared for a while this week; it's been a really long time since it has been here. I miss that version of TK, and I long for the day that part of TK trumps the scared and angry part.
I'm trying to give myself some grace for resigning myself to the anger and fear instead of fighting it. Give yourself some as well. This journey is ridiculously hard. Grab those moments where the joy comes forth and let yourself breathe deeply and just enjoy it. It probably won't last, but it might just give you the grace and emotional energy to get you through the next cycle of fear and anger.
Saturday, November 11, 2017
The more things change
I was going to say it's interesting watching the changing face of trauma as TK moves into teenagerhood. But the truth is it sucks watching the changing face of trauma. And even after 8 years of the journey, I still screw up and forget stuff. Yes, parts of it have seemingly resolved as TK's brain continues to change (thank you neuroplasticity) and TK matures, but that underlying fear of rejection and abandonment is always there. I don't know if it takes more to activate it or if TK is just better at masking it...I suspect some of both. But this week it came roaring to life, and I got to really notice the changes in the face of trauma from childhood to teenage years (or just different years in the journey, depending when your family's healing journey started).
When TK was much younger and when we were just on the beginning of this journey (for us roughly ages 4-8), trauma manifested as "everything in a 10 mile radius gets destroyed". The face of trauma was hitting, breaking things, screaming hateful words and basically wiping out anyone in range. In the "middle years" (ages 8-11), trauma was a mix of widespread destruction and targeted attacks. While general destruction still occurred, it lessened greatly, and the verbal attacks were made, usually to me after the fact (progress!) about the "offending parties".
Now, at age 12, trauma results in targeted annihilation. This is sometimes directed inwardly (the scariest of all) in the "typical" traumaspeak: "I have no friends; everyone hates me; I'm not lovable". This is terrifying as you can't see it, and when you add the normal angst of puberty, it has the chance of spiraling quickly to a dark place. You see walls coming up and communication shutting down and you wonder if it's just hormones or trauma, or worse, both.
Sometimes the trauma comes outward, laser focused - usually at me. (Because who else is there?) I spent many hours this week (okay, the last few months) being annoyed and angry and treating the trauma as "typical teenage angst", but I forgot the basic rule of trauma - the "bad" behavior is a result of fear.
TK goes to therapy once a week or so. After the session, TK is usually lighthearted and even silly.....for an hour or two. Then TK becomes introspective, disgruntled, and often quite mean. I get it. I've been through therapy and I know it leaves you raw and needing to process through what you just talked about. When you're an adult, you usually do that in the privacy of your own head. When you're a 12 year old trauma kid.......not so much. We often bang heads later that night, and I frequently hear how everything is fine except for me; that I cause the angst, I make TK's life worse, etc. It always hurts my feelings but I remind myself that TK is healing and all that turmoil has to go somewhere. (The part that stinks about being a single parent is it ALWAYS goes on me.) This week was typical - all happiness and light for a while, then the trauma monster came out to play.
To TK's credit (and mine), even when the conversation got really hard and tears were flowing (from both of us), neither of us walked away. We stayed in the conversation and kept working through it. A lot if it WAS typical teenage stuff - "you don't trust me, you think I'm stupid and can't make good decisions", but even typical teenage stuff is not typical when it comes from a trauma kid. But as the conversation continued, TK suddenly yelled, "You have no idea how hard it is to wonder every day if you're going to get hurt or die when you're at school bus driver training! You don't know what you're doing and that thing is HUGE. Every day I'm scared to death my phone will ring and I'll have to ask a teacher to take me home or to the hospital."
Fear....it's always fear. I will say that quite honestly part of me was glad to hear that because, like most parents of teenagers, I spend most of my time sure TK hates me. It was nice to know TK was scared to lose me. After TK made that statement, all the energy went out of the argument. TK had voiced the real issue, and NOW we could move forward. I spent a long time explaining the training process and the safety measures, and I told TK if the fear was paralyzing I would find another option.
I had never occurred to me that TK was scared I could get hurt/die learning to drive a bus. (At this point in the blog I mentally slap myself in the head and say, "Really? 8 years in and you STILL don't get this?") But the changing face of trauma had me fooled. It manifested as teenage angst and hormonal drama, and I bought into it. That undoubtedly is part of it and makes the trauma stuff even harder (oh goodie).
When your teenage TK is going off the rails, remember that under all that "you are the worst parent ever" stuff is the voice of that baby/little kid/big kid in the orphanage (hospital, foster care system, wherever) scared no one will be there to love them and keep them safe.
So yep, I forgot to look for the fear. But I'm giving myself grace and letting it go. Hopefully I'll remember to look for it next time (because there will be a next time). It can be a lot harder to dig down to it as our TKs get older, but I was reminded that if I stay in the conversation (and I have been known to walk away because I just don't want to hear it and I'm tired of it), we get to the real issue. I did this pretty easily when TK was younger. It's harder now -TK is much better at hitting where it hurts (emotionally) and it takes a lot to hang in there through all the hard stuff. But it's worth it.
Do your best to ride out the hard stuff, trauma mamas. The only way past trauma is through it. There's no seatbelt and it seems like the world's longest ride a lot of days, but when you see the look on your TK's face when they truly feel heard and safe, it's worth every tear - even the ones your cry into your pillow when your TK is sleeping.
Give yourself grace when you unbuckle and get off the ride for a while. Sometimes you just need to get your own equilibrium before you can go for round 2,679.
When TK was much younger and when we were just on the beginning of this journey (for us roughly ages 4-8), trauma manifested as "everything in a 10 mile radius gets destroyed". The face of trauma was hitting, breaking things, screaming hateful words and basically wiping out anyone in range. In the "middle years" (ages 8-11), trauma was a mix of widespread destruction and targeted attacks. While general destruction still occurred, it lessened greatly, and the verbal attacks were made, usually to me after the fact (progress!) about the "offending parties".
Now, at age 12, trauma results in targeted annihilation. This is sometimes directed inwardly (the scariest of all) in the "typical" traumaspeak: "I have no friends; everyone hates me; I'm not lovable". This is terrifying as you can't see it, and when you add the normal angst of puberty, it has the chance of spiraling quickly to a dark place. You see walls coming up and communication shutting down and you wonder if it's just hormones or trauma, or worse, both.
Sometimes the trauma comes outward, laser focused - usually at me. (Because who else is there?) I spent many hours this week (okay, the last few months) being annoyed and angry and treating the trauma as "typical teenage angst", but I forgot the basic rule of trauma - the "bad" behavior is a result of fear.
TK goes to therapy once a week or so. After the session, TK is usually lighthearted and even silly.....for an hour or two. Then TK becomes introspective, disgruntled, and often quite mean. I get it. I've been through therapy and I know it leaves you raw and needing to process through what you just talked about. When you're an adult, you usually do that in the privacy of your own head. When you're a 12 year old trauma kid.......not so much. We often bang heads later that night, and I frequently hear how everything is fine except for me; that I cause the angst, I make TK's life worse, etc. It always hurts my feelings but I remind myself that TK is healing and all that turmoil has to go somewhere. (The part that stinks about being a single parent is it ALWAYS goes on me.) This week was typical - all happiness and light for a while, then the trauma monster came out to play.
To TK's credit (and mine), even when the conversation got really hard and tears were flowing (from both of us), neither of us walked away. We stayed in the conversation and kept working through it. A lot if it WAS typical teenage stuff - "you don't trust me, you think I'm stupid and can't make good decisions", but even typical teenage stuff is not typical when it comes from a trauma kid. But as the conversation continued, TK suddenly yelled, "You have no idea how hard it is to wonder every day if you're going to get hurt or die when you're at school bus driver training! You don't know what you're doing and that thing is HUGE. Every day I'm scared to death my phone will ring and I'll have to ask a teacher to take me home or to the hospital."
Fear....it's always fear. I will say that quite honestly part of me was glad to hear that because, like most parents of teenagers, I spend most of my time sure TK hates me. It was nice to know TK was scared to lose me. After TK made that statement, all the energy went out of the argument. TK had voiced the real issue, and NOW we could move forward. I spent a long time explaining the training process and the safety measures, and I told TK if the fear was paralyzing I would find another option.
I had never occurred to me that TK was scared I could get hurt/die learning to drive a bus. (At this point in the blog I mentally slap myself in the head and say, "Really? 8 years in and you STILL don't get this?") But the changing face of trauma had me fooled. It manifested as teenage angst and hormonal drama, and I bought into it. That undoubtedly is part of it and makes the trauma stuff even harder (oh goodie).
When your teenage TK is going off the rails, remember that under all that "you are the worst parent ever" stuff is the voice of that baby/little kid/big kid in the orphanage (hospital, foster care system, wherever) scared no one will be there to love them and keep them safe.
So yep, I forgot to look for the fear. But I'm giving myself grace and letting it go. Hopefully I'll remember to look for it next time (because there will be a next time). It can be a lot harder to dig down to it as our TKs get older, but I was reminded that if I stay in the conversation (and I have been known to walk away because I just don't want to hear it and I'm tired of it), we get to the real issue. I did this pretty easily when TK was younger. It's harder now -TK is much better at hitting where it hurts (emotionally) and it takes a lot to hang in there through all the hard stuff. But it's worth it.
Do your best to ride out the hard stuff, trauma mamas. The only way past trauma is through it. There's no seatbelt and it seems like the world's longest ride a lot of days, but when you see the look on your TK's face when they truly feel heard and safe, it's worth every tear - even the ones your cry into your pillow when your TK is sleeping.
Give yourself grace when you unbuckle and get off the ride for a while. Sometimes you just need to get your own equilibrium before you can go for round 2,679.
Thursday, October 19, 2017
Conflicting truths
TK has been seeing a counselor, and it's been a good thing. It has helped her to express her feelings and gives her a safe space to vent. It's also been a huge challenge- for me. Her feelings seem to center around how everything is my fault.
Case in point:
The last few years I worked part time at a small private school. This year they let me know very late in the summer that they wouldn't be using me this year. I began to scramble because I need to work. It's partly the money but mostly the social and community aspect of it. I need to be a contributing member of the world, interacting with people other than TK and making a difference to someone. While I know I am a good mom, there are many days (more now that TK has put voice to her seemingly endless dissatisfaction with me) that I feel insufficient, and I nearly always feel unfulfilled by my role as mom.
Today after therapy TK told me that my pursuing this job was stressing her out and having a tremendous negative impact on her. She felt I was too invested, spending too much time studying, and putting way too much importance on it.
The truth is the bulk of my studying has been done when she is holed up in her room or asleep or at school. The truth is I'm GOOD at this - I'm kicking butt and that feels amazing. I have felt mediocre for so long that this feels fabulous. The truth is she needs to know I am more than just a mom. The truth is this is long overdue. The truth is I resent that she is resentful of this.
But the truth is also that she feels rejected. The truth is she is scared I'll love driving a bus more than I love her. The truth is she's afraid if I'm really good at something else I won't need her. The truth is I built this monster by putting my life on hold to move her through her trauma as much as possible.
The ugly truth is I'm tired of always choosing trauma over everything else. The ugly truth is I am resentful as hell that I have to choose between keeping TK regulated and having a life. The ugly truth is anytime I choose to pursue an independent pursuit there will be fallout. The ugly truth is I always have to decide if what I'm doing /gaining is worth the price.
This time it is worth the price. The fallout will be real. I don't know how severe it will be or how long it will last, but I'm sure it will be unpleasant, to put it mildly.
I guarantee there are those reading this who are thinking, "that's what happens when you put your kids at the center of your life. That's what you get for choosing to keep the peace over fulfilling your own needs." And I get it; I've had those same thoughts myself. But then I remember how incredibly broken our family was and how magical it is that while it is still broken, there are many parts of it that have healed. That healing could not have occurred without those sacrifices. So I will continue to second-guess my choices, and I will continue trying to balance her sense of rejection with my need for personal fulfillment, and I will continue to cry when it gets ridiculously hard, because it is and will be again. But then I will stop, re-read some early blog entries and remind myself of how far we've come, and know that I did that. My choices and my sacrifices and my commitment did that. So I will give myself some grace and hold on as we navigate the rocky path we are now on. We've gotten through much worse.
Give yourselves grace, Trauma Mamas, when you allow yourself to nurture yourself. Give yourself the grace of at least once not laughing out loud when someone mentions "self care". Give yourself the grace of knowing you made the decisions you made to heal your family, and no one else will likely ever understand that. Give yourself the grace of feeling however you feel and knowing those feelings don't change your commitment and indefatigable love for your TK. You rock, Trauma Mamas. You deserve so much more than that tiny bit you're giving yourself right now, so grab it and cherish it and know you are worth it.
Case in point:
The last few years I worked part time at a small private school. This year they let me know very late in the summer that they wouldn't be using me this year. I began to scramble because I need to work. It's partly the money but mostly the social and community aspect of it. I need to be a contributing member of the world, interacting with people other than TK and making a difference to someone. While I know I am a good mom, there are many days (more now that TK has put voice to her seemingly endless dissatisfaction with me) that I feel insufficient, and I nearly always feel unfulfilled by my role as mom.
Today after therapy TK told me that my pursuing this job was stressing her out and having a tremendous negative impact on her. She felt I was too invested, spending too much time studying, and putting way too much importance on it.
The truth is the bulk of my studying has been done when she is holed up in her room or asleep or at school. The truth is I'm GOOD at this - I'm kicking butt and that feels amazing. I have felt mediocre for so long that this feels fabulous. The truth is she needs to know I am more than just a mom. The truth is this is long overdue. The truth is I resent that she is resentful of this.
But the truth is also that she feels rejected. The truth is she is scared I'll love driving a bus more than I love her. The truth is she's afraid if I'm really good at something else I won't need her. The truth is I built this monster by putting my life on hold to move her through her trauma as much as possible.
The ugly truth is I'm tired of always choosing trauma over everything else. The ugly truth is I am resentful as hell that I have to choose between keeping TK regulated and having a life. The ugly truth is anytime I choose to pursue an independent pursuit there will be fallout. The ugly truth is I always have to decide if what I'm doing /gaining is worth the price.
This time it is worth the price. The fallout will be real. I don't know how severe it will be or how long it will last, but I'm sure it will be unpleasant, to put it mildly.
I guarantee there are those reading this who are thinking, "that's what happens when you put your kids at the center of your life. That's what you get for choosing to keep the peace over fulfilling your own needs." And I get it; I've had those same thoughts myself. But then I remember how incredibly broken our family was and how magical it is that while it is still broken, there are many parts of it that have healed. That healing could not have occurred without those sacrifices. So I will continue to second-guess my choices, and I will continue trying to balance her sense of rejection with my need for personal fulfillment, and I will continue to cry when it gets ridiculously hard, because it is and will be again. But then I will stop, re-read some early blog entries and remind myself of how far we've come, and know that I did that. My choices and my sacrifices and my commitment did that. So I will give myself some grace and hold on as we navigate the rocky path we are now on. We've gotten through much worse.
Give yourselves grace, Trauma Mamas, when you allow yourself to nurture yourself. Give yourself the grace of at least once not laughing out loud when someone mentions "self care". Give yourself the grace of knowing you made the decisions you made to heal your family, and no one else will likely ever understand that. Give yourself the grace of feeling however you feel and knowing those feelings don't change your commitment and indefatigable love for your TK. You rock, Trauma Mamas. You deserve so much more than that tiny bit you're giving yourself right now, so grab it and cherish it and know you are worth it.
Sunday, August 27, 2017
Maybe....
Summer "vacation" - a misnomer if ever there was one. Spending nearly every minute of every day with a Trauma Kid (TK) who thrives on structure and predictability and is thrust into the "what are we going to do today" reality of summer is NOT a vacation.
It was, at least, better than previous summers. TK is maturing and learning to handle her dysregulation better, but there is still a long way to go. But we hung tough - until the last two weeks. A "friend" of TK (whom I had never liked but couldn't pin down why) and TK got into a big argument. I don't know exactly what was said but given this was two tweenage girls I'm sure it got nasty. The "friend" texted TK that she was going to kill herself. TK showed me the text. I had no way to get in touch with the mom so I called the police and told them. They did a welfare check on the girl. The mom accused me of "ruining their life" and stalked me on messenger for a week or so. My continued failure to respond to the vitriol eventually convinced her to stop, I assume. The girl told all their mutual friends how TK had ruined her life, wouldn't be friends with her anymore and essentially was a horrible person. So the mutual friends came at TK accusing her of being a bad friend, saying how she hurt this girl, etc. Can you say REJECTION?
Lots of old behaviors surfaced - slamming doors, tantrums, "everyone hates me"......and it was compounded with tweenage hormones so we also had LOTS of tears and way too little sleep. A new behavior manifested itself - the shutdown. TK hibernated in her room, not talking to friends, just hiding. She refused to trust anyone (including me) and was belligerent and nasty most of the time. I understood it was because the rejection was overwhelming, but it was still exhausting.
With a lot of patience on my part and a good therapist, TK worked her way through it pretty well.....until school started, because of course the girl goes to TK's school. The first three days they didn't see each other, though the girl kept asking mutual friends to tell TK she missed her, etc. Starting on day 4 the girl "managed" to run into TK every day at school, usually multiple times. To say this threw a monkey wrench in TK's regulation is an understatement of epic proportions.
TK did her best to not let it rattle her, but it did. And, as inevitably happens with our TKs, even if they can bury the dysregulation for a while, it's still there, and eventually it blows. And blow it did.
We were at out dear friend's house, laughing and relaxing and having a great night. At one point I was very excited and said "oh my gosh". We don't say that in our house - we say oh my goodness. TK slapped my arm (a resounding, leave a temporary mark slap) and yelled, "Mom!" I was livid. I had no compassion for the fact that she had been dealing with this stress at school for the last two weeks. I was just ticked. We immediately left and drove home in silence. She told me she was sorry but it was cursory and lacked sincerity.
Today we had a chat about respect and the fact that while her opinion counts, she does not have the right to control what I say; we are not peers. Of course this was further rejection and she went into her room sobbing that I hated her. I let her. I believe at this point while she feels embarrassed and rejected, she does truly know that I love her. This is a swing point for us. Maybe it should have come sooner. Maybe I played too much into the trauma. Maybe the healing had progressed further than I knew. Maybe I blew it a thousand different times by letting her behavior be excused as trauma based. Maybe......or maybe not. I don't know and I probably never will. All I know is I made the best decisions I could at the time. Would I change some of them in retrospect? Maybe...
There's no instruction manual for our TKs, trauma mamas. Trust your gut and give yourself grace when you, like I, look back and start listing the times and ways you blew it. Take a breath and look at the fact that you've made progress, even if it's two steps forward, one step back.....because that's still progress.
You'll screw up. I did, and do. Grant yourself the grace of knowing the errors are made with love and based on the knowledge you have at that moment. The rules change just about every day with TKs. Keep on adapting, keep on loving, and most of all, keep on giving yourself grace. You deserve it.
It was, at least, better than previous summers. TK is maturing and learning to handle her dysregulation better, but there is still a long way to go. But we hung tough - until the last two weeks. A "friend" of TK (whom I had never liked but couldn't pin down why) and TK got into a big argument. I don't know exactly what was said but given this was two tweenage girls I'm sure it got nasty. The "friend" texted TK that she was going to kill herself. TK showed me the text. I had no way to get in touch with the mom so I called the police and told them. They did a welfare check on the girl. The mom accused me of "ruining their life" and stalked me on messenger for a week or so. My continued failure to respond to the vitriol eventually convinced her to stop, I assume. The girl told all their mutual friends how TK had ruined her life, wouldn't be friends with her anymore and essentially was a horrible person. So the mutual friends came at TK accusing her of being a bad friend, saying how she hurt this girl, etc. Can you say REJECTION?
Lots of old behaviors surfaced - slamming doors, tantrums, "everyone hates me"......and it was compounded with tweenage hormones so we also had LOTS of tears and way too little sleep. A new behavior manifested itself - the shutdown. TK hibernated in her room, not talking to friends, just hiding. She refused to trust anyone (including me) and was belligerent and nasty most of the time. I understood it was because the rejection was overwhelming, but it was still exhausting.
With a lot of patience on my part and a good therapist, TK worked her way through it pretty well.....until school started, because of course the girl goes to TK's school. The first three days they didn't see each other, though the girl kept asking mutual friends to tell TK she missed her, etc. Starting on day 4 the girl "managed" to run into TK every day at school, usually multiple times. To say this threw a monkey wrench in TK's regulation is an understatement of epic proportions.
TK did her best to not let it rattle her, but it did. And, as inevitably happens with our TKs, even if they can bury the dysregulation for a while, it's still there, and eventually it blows. And blow it did.
We were at out dear friend's house, laughing and relaxing and having a great night. At one point I was very excited and said "oh my gosh". We don't say that in our house - we say oh my goodness. TK slapped my arm (a resounding, leave a temporary mark slap) and yelled, "Mom!" I was livid. I had no compassion for the fact that she had been dealing with this stress at school for the last two weeks. I was just ticked. We immediately left and drove home in silence. She told me she was sorry but it was cursory and lacked sincerity.
Today we had a chat about respect and the fact that while her opinion counts, she does not have the right to control what I say; we are not peers. Of course this was further rejection and she went into her room sobbing that I hated her. I let her. I believe at this point while she feels embarrassed and rejected, she does truly know that I love her. This is a swing point for us. Maybe it should have come sooner. Maybe I played too much into the trauma. Maybe the healing had progressed further than I knew. Maybe I blew it a thousand different times by letting her behavior be excused as trauma based. Maybe......or maybe not. I don't know and I probably never will. All I know is I made the best decisions I could at the time. Would I change some of them in retrospect? Maybe...
There's no instruction manual for our TKs, trauma mamas. Trust your gut and give yourself grace when you, like I, look back and start listing the times and ways you blew it. Take a breath and look at the fact that you've made progress, even if it's two steps forward, one step back.....because that's still progress.
You'll screw up. I did, and do. Grant yourself the grace of knowing the errors are made with love and based on the knowledge you have at that moment. The rules change just about every day with TKs. Keep on adapting, keep on loving, and most of all, keep on giving yourself grace. You deserve it.
Friday, May 19, 2017
Tonight was the night
Tonight was the night. It was the night I patted my baby (my 12 year old, 5'6" baby) to sleep and cried. I cried because there are only 2 days of school left and summer break looms imminent and long. Trauma Kid (TK) doesn't want school to end either. School is comfort - it is routine and structure, social interaction in a controlled environment, supportive and safe adults (thank heavens!). She dreads the unknown of summer - how often will she see her friends; how will she fill her days; what other adult will be a sounding board/safe place?
I dread summer too. I know it will be better than last year, for she has matured tremendously this year, but I also know I am facing weeks of no structure, weeks of "what are we going to do today, Mom?", weeks of hoping we get through it with no meltdowns, no drama, no trauma. We do have some things planned. TK is trying out for the school volleyball team, and if she makes it that will occupy some of the latter part of summer. She is also going to spend a week with her grandparents. But there is still a looooong stretch of just us.
Transition is always challenging for our TKs. Transitions where people leave their lives are exceptionally challenging. Finding a safe person at school is a gift, and I am beyond grateful that TK has two at her school. But next year she will have different teachers, so her safe people, while still there, won't be part of her daily routine. So she will mourn their loss, and I will pray she can do that without feeling rejected.
The end of school is a rough time for our TKs (and therefore, for us). Hang tough, Trauma Mamas. I know too well the struggle of trying to balance keeping them busy with not overstimulating them to the point of a meltdown. Just remember, summer break is "only" 79 days long (at least here in TN).....
I dread summer too. I know it will be better than last year, for she has matured tremendously this year, but I also know I am facing weeks of no structure, weeks of "what are we going to do today, Mom?", weeks of hoping we get through it with no meltdowns, no drama, no trauma. We do have some things planned. TK is trying out for the school volleyball team, and if she makes it that will occupy some of the latter part of summer. She is also going to spend a week with her grandparents. But there is still a looooong stretch of just us.
Transition is always challenging for our TKs. Transitions where people leave their lives are exceptionally challenging. Finding a safe person at school is a gift, and I am beyond grateful that TK has two at her school. But next year she will have different teachers, so her safe people, while still there, won't be part of her daily routine. So she will mourn their loss, and I will pray she can do that without feeling rejected.
The end of school is a rough time for our TKs (and therefore, for us). Hang tough, Trauma Mamas. I know too well the struggle of trying to balance keeping them busy with not overstimulating them to the point of a meltdown. Just remember, summer break is "only" 79 days long (at least here in TN).....
Sunday, April 16, 2017
Trauma Mama truths
There are so many things I didn't know when I adopted a trauma kid. I'm not talking about the good stuff, like how this child fills a hole in your heart you didn't know existed, or how you feel you are part of a holy calling called parenthood, or the thousand sweet moments where you are sure your heart will burst with love. I'm talking about the "dark side:, the side when trauma rules, the side when it is far more challenging than you ever thought anything could be.
So here it is - the things I didn't know/ no one told me:
- How many nights I would spend crying -- because she was broken and I couldn't fix her; because changing the entire way you parent is exhausting; because yet one more friend has given up because it's too hard; because no matter how much you know it isn't aimed at you, hearing "God made a mistake when He made you my mom" still cuts to the quick; because sometimes it is just too damn much to handle alone.
- How many people I would have to try to convince that just because she's "doing fine" doesn't mean she is fine. It just means she has muscled together enough regulation for the moment. Unless you are there when the wheels come off because the regulation has all been used up, don't doubt the words of the people who live with the TKs.
- How lonely it is. Friends will try to "get it", but you have to live it to really get it. TK gets better and better at regulation, especially in public, so dysregulation surprises and scares people. (Sometimes it still surprises me). Frequently they get so freaked by it that they decide the risk is too high, so they stop inviting you to things/volunteering to help. For years there was no "safe person" to leave her with, so I just hunkered down and did it. I'd say it's worse since I'm a single parent, except I know married trauma parents who feel just as isolated.
- How many events/invites would be skipped or cut short. When dysregulation is high, you learn to skip stuff or walk out partway through, because regulation is gold. Regulation is peace. Regulation is worth (most times) sacrificing time with friends and family because dyregulation is horrific. Dysregulation is monstrous and consuming and mind-numbingly exhausting. So you turn down invitations, leave parties early, and generally tick off your friends until they stop inviting you (see previous entry).
- How scared TK is. She is almost 11 years home, but we are 7 years into the trauma journey. In the beginning the fear was evident. Over time it manifests itself differently. It turns from thrown objects and slammed doors to harsh words, negative self talk and random outbursts that are disproportionate to the event. The other day she was snitty and I lost it. (The good news is this rarely happens, so it shocks and scares her when it does.) She came totally unglued and terrified. I realized that while she is 99% sure she is loved unconditionally, that 1% is still there. There is still a small part of her that worries that maybe this time she crossed the line; maybe this time she really IS unlovable. That fear is so hard to chase out. A shadow of it always seem to linger.
- How broken I am. I've read that TKs are a gift to point out our own brokenness and help us heal it. This is certainly true for me. At some point I realized I could not help TK move forward until I myself could move forward past my own trauma. Working simultaneously on her trauma and mine was brutal, and I know there is still work to be done - on both fronts. But I am grateful for the opportunity to heal.
- How hard this is. Granted, we have made tons of progress, but trauma is still very much a part of our lives. It's there at night when I pat her to sleep and tell myself, "just stay quiet" while TK rants about something inconsequential (and often not the real issue). It's there when I pick her up from school and she goes to her room and slams her door because she used up all her regulation dealing with teachers and friends (and enemies). It's there when she blows for no apparent reason, and it takes hours of talking and detective work to discover the underlying fear.
So, dear trauma mamas, trauma dads, and trauma caregivers, there are a lot of things no one told you. Blessedly there are almost always small moments of grace that give us enough strength to keep moving forward. For our TKs are great purveyors of grace. It's there when they forgive our failings. It's there when they challenge themselves to move into and through a hard situation. It's there when they apologize after a bout of dysregulation. It's there when you find another Trauma Mama to share the truth. So I offer you the grace of my truth. May it carry you through the next "hard part", because we all know there will be one. Keep fighting the good fight, Trauma Mamas.
So here it is - the things I didn't know/ no one told me:
- How many nights I would spend crying -- because she was broken and I couldn't fix her; because changing the entire way you parent is exhausting; because yet one more friend has given up because it's too hard; because no matter how much you know it isn't aimed at you, hearing "God made a mistake when He made you my mom" still cuts to the quick; because sometimes it is just too damn much to handle alone.
- How many people I would have to try to convince that just because she's "doing fine" doesn't mean she is fine. It just means she has muscled together enough regulation for the moment. Unless you are there when the wheels come off because the regulation has all been used up, don't doubt the words of the people who live with the TKs.
- How lonely it is. Friends will try to "get it", but you have to live it to really get it. TK gets better and better at regulation, especially in public, so dysregulation surprises and scares people. (Sometimes it still surprises me). Frequently they get so freaked by it that they decide the risk is too high, so they stop inviting you to things/volunteering to help. For years there was no "safe person" to leave her with, so I just hunkered down and did it. I'd say it's worse since I'm a single parent, except I know married trauma parents who feel just as isolated.
- How many events/invites would be skipped or cut short. When dysregulation is high, you learn to skip stuff or walk out partway through, because regulation is gold. Regulation is peace. Regulation is worth (most times) sacrificing time with friends and family because dyregulation is horrific. Dysregulation is monstrous and consuming and mind-numbingly exhausting. So you turn down invitations, leave parties early, and generally tick off your friends until they stop inviting you (see previous entry).
- How scared TK is. She is almost 11 years home, but we are 7 years into the trauma journey. In the beginning the fear was evident. Over time it manifests itself differently. It turns from thrown objects and slammed doors to harsh words, negative self talk and random outbursts that are disproportionate to the event. The other day she was snitty and I lost it. (The good news is this rarely happens, so it shocks and scares her when it does.) She came totally unglued and terrified. I realized that while she is 99% sure she is loved unconditionally, that 1% is still there. There is still a small part of her that worries that maybe this time she crossed the line; maybe this time she really IS unlovable. That fear is so hard to chase out. A shadow of it always seem to linger.
- How broken I am. I've read that TKs are a gift to point out our own brokenness and help us heal it. This is certainly true for me. At some point I realized I could not help TK move forward until I myself could move forward past my own trauma. Working simultaneously on her trauma and mine was brutal, and I know there is still work to be done - on both fronts. But I am grateful for the opportunity to heal.
- How hard this is. Granted, we have made tons of progress, but trauma is still very much a part of our lives. It's there at night when I pat her to sleep and tell myself, "just stay quiet" while TK rants about something inconsequential (and often not the real issue). It's there when I pick her up from school and she goes to her room and slams her door because she used up all her regulation dealing with teachers and friends (and enemies). It's there when she blows for no apparent reason, and it takes hours of talking and detective work to discover the underlying fear.
So, dear trauma mamas, trauma dads, and trauma caregivers, there are a lot of things no one told you. Blessedly there are almost always small moments of grace that give us enough strength to keep moving forward. For our TKs are great purveyors of grace. It's there when they forgive our failings. It's there when they challenge themselves to move into and through a hard situation. It's there when they apologize after a bout of dysregulation. It's there when you find another Trauma Mama to share the truth. So I offer you the grace of my truth. May it carry you through the next "hard part", because we all know there will be one. Keep fighting the good fight, Trauma Mamas.
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