Finding Hope

I feel so far removed from the world of RAD since V has been gone. I know I am still processing and healing all that we’ve endured over the last seven years.

I reflect on what happened and consider what I may have done or not done differently. I try to live a life with no regrets. And at the end of my thoughts, I still believe, I’ve done the best that I could. My best, not someone else’s. I don’t fully comprehend all of the cost, both figuratively and literally. I haven’t kept track financially and I’m not sure exactly how many relationships were weakened by misunderstanding and judgment.

There is no doubt I have accumulated more insight over the years and a clarity in the past three months. I’m still trying to piece it all together. I consider boundaries and consequences. I am understanding how attunement and mercy play an essential role in all parenting but especially in children that challenge nearly every boundary and limit set. I’ve known that having a heart at peace is pivotal to be able to offering any healing to hurting children. I now have a better understanding of how they all work together. I also know it’s impossible for someone to understand the intricacies of it without ever living it. I know pain extended far beyond V’s heart. I understand more than ever my limited capacity to change anything beyond myself. While I’ve been waiting for so much change in V, I know the only real change I can expect is in me. And much of that change was my expectations. I still struggle but I am becoming more comfortable accepting what is.

I have began this post a number of times since I returned from my first visit to see V more than three weeks ago.

I boarded the plane with one piece of checked luggage and carried on no expectations.

So I thought.

How do you tell a mother not to have any expectations?

I arrived at 10am and walked into the classroom and V ran to me. It was a pure exchange. But her sincerity slowly left throughout the day. At 5pm when I got into the car, somehow emotions I wasn’t even fully aware of, spilled down my cheeks. As I drove toward the city, I wept. I drove around looking for a place to eat for dinner but I couldn’t pull myself together. I was struggling to figure out where it was all coming from. It was a painful release, I wasn’t finding much solace. I made two phone calls for insight. It got me to Subway for a sandwich and I didn’t know what else to do but go back to the hotel and climb on the treadmill and just run.

I still don’t know all the painful places that manifested that night but I know my inadequacies, the injustice, and limited influence were exposed. Even with the comfort of knowing that this is the only place V could be, seeing her there was heartbreaking for me. I don’t know that it gets easier because even now I have to hold back the tears.

There may be many that question or pass judgment on the way Jay and I have chosen to help V. I’m okay with that because there isn’t a manual or a drug that can make it all better. But there is something no one can ever question and that is my love and dedication to Victoria. I have wanted to quit a thousand times and I haven’t. Even as she slowly self destructed and nearly simultaneously brought the entire family down with her. Again, an intensity one would have to live to truly understand.

I am still learning and growing. There is so much I don’t know but what I do know, I passionately want to share with others. I will be offering another lecture series in January, more information can be found here.

When I returned the following day to visit V, it was a little easier. And then the last day, I went to visit for a few hours. A connection was felt and as I prepared to leave, V’s vulnerability could no longer hide behind the fortress. She cried. It was the cry you would have expected when we left the first time after dropping her off but she couldn’t. This cry was anguish. I knew it was painful. I was comforted to know she trusted me but sad to know the pain doesn’t end for her. She continues to find creative ways to conceal it. We all, to some extent, do that. I held her and she fell into me and I tried to comfort her. I was leaving, my offering so limited. One of those painful things from the first day. But I didn’t leave the way I came. I was hopeful for what could happen for her and the comfort she received there. It was the only facility I visited that understood the need for nurturing.

I look forward to blogging more about what the center can offer for V that just could never have been replicated at home. I hope to blog about progress, her’s and mine.