September 3rd, 2010
I was taking the kids to school this morning and a large rock hit my windshield. It startled me and I immediately felt anger. It reminded me of when someone hides around the corner to scare me. When they jump out they think it’s funny but I’m mad and usually want to hit them. I then thought of the owner that let their faithful, loving dog out and it ran into the road and got hit. The owner ran out to help the dog and as he reached down to pick him up and comfort him, and the dog bit him.
As I hear and have my own experiences, I gain a greater understanding of my daughter. The fear I felt from the rock hitting my windshield was only a second. I have to imagine for my daughter, the fear she has felt in her life was like a constant barrage of rocks. It didn’t last a second. It is a natural instinct when we are scared to be angry. At a very young age we don’t have coping mechanisms in place to regulate that atypical amount of anger because typically we are never introduced to so much fear and uncertainty early in life. Our fear response is not based on age. The urge to fight, flight or freeze is natural and instinctive. Other ways to cope must be learned (May I suggest that we will spend most of our lives learning to avoid anger). So I have spent the last three years or so helping V lower her anxiety and fear. But like the dog, she has been hurt so badly and when we first brought her home she didn’t know what my intentions were, she thought I might just be another car ready to run her over. So in needing to protect herself, she bites me back, even though I’m trying to keep her safe. I’m hurting; I don’t trust you; I want you to hurt too.
V still falls into this fear but it’s not all reactionary anymore. She chooses to get stuck in her anger. It’s okay to get stuck; it’s not okay to stay stuck. Her anger is not protecting her. Her anger becomes destructive, which for most of us, that’s all anger is.
Anger likes to play dress up: frustration, blame, jealousy, disrespect, impatience, justification, criticism. It’s favorite item is a crown. Anger isn’t the 01 King of Anything. Anger in and of itself isn’t bad unless we act upon it. Our track record as humans not acting on this powerful emotion is poor. All anger does, with its associated behaviors, is screams something is wrong we can’t fix. We need help. Anger isn’t humble. It’s not going to reach out except to hurt. I’m angry. I’m hurting. I want you to hurt too.
And anger isn’t always screaming in our face. Sometimes its passive. Egotistical. Sarcastic. Indulging. Demanding. Feels entitled. It’s starring role is victim. I refuse to hold V’s crown.
I grew up seeing anger but I’ve earned my degree in raising it. Anger is a feeling of being out of control. This is when we do and say things we usually regret. That is a scary feeling. So if we could address the fear, it’s possible to get to the heart of the matter. And that’s where it is, at the heart and many times, it’s hurt. And as you well know, the more you care, the more it hurts. So let’s just not care. There’s a simple and destructive approach.
When did we decide hurting was a weakness? What a tragedy. When did we decide caring was too dangerous? What a delusional sunset.
August 30th, 2010
I kept thinking I was going to share all the experiences I‘ve had with V and school but I realized it would be best just to share with you what has worked.
It was important that I spoke to the teacher before she saw V. I understand why it’s so hard for people to understand Vs struggles when they can’t see it. It makes it much harder when they meet her first. Finding a teacher that can see V and yet trust me is the answer.
The second is a staff that is willing to be educated. Last year I was thankful for a teacher that took time to read my book, Love Lessons, and gain a better understanding of our situation. The book. It is able to say more than I ever could in a thirty-minute meeting. It is a great jumping off point for addressing specific concerns.
At the beginning of the year, I don’t make many demands on the teacher. This year I gave the teacher a copy of my book, gave a brief explanation of trauma, the importance of lowering V’s anxiety and being careful with praise. Frankly, I didn’t feel so much pressure this year because V has an aide. I don’t think children with this disorder can survive without constant supervision until their controlling behaviors have subsided. I don’t think children’s behaviors will change until they accept responsibility for their choices through accountability. There just isn’t anyway a teacher could keep V accountable all day long. Two main reasons: too many kids in the classroom and V’s behaviors are often so subtle.
I requested an IEP for V to address specific things I thought she needed in order to succeed at school. These meetings were attended by her teacher, all other teachers involved with her, the special ed director, principal, assistant principal and my therapist. In the IEP I asked for an aide; I asked that V not eat lunch with the other children or go out for recess. This is also a good place to make suggestions for discipline techniques. Sending V to the principal’s office is too fun for her. Sending her out into the hall was miserable. Missing recess is a great natural consequence as are having them do “service projects” frankly they are just chores. I’m sure there would be many other requests if V didn’t have an aide with her.
I email V’s teacher often to keep the lines of communication open. A very important rule I have: What happens at school, stays at school. Unless it requires my attention, especially discipline, is decided upon her teacher and aide. I address concerns quickly. I think it’s important to reiterate that this is a learning curve for most teachers and is best done line upon line.
In my experience with V, she would never survive without a teacher that trusted me, and a staff that was willing to be educated. I’ve had to change teachers, change schools and even home school. Ultimately while I want the best for V, I also have to do what is best for me. I am the mom. I get the fall out and most of the work in helping V heal, falls on my shoulders.
I feel so fortunate to have so many supportive services in place for V. It has been a journey; an intense learning experience and made all the more successful because of prayer. It isn’t specific to me; it’s available to everyone. Trust me, it doesn’t require a mountain a faith, just a desire for help beyond your own. So mostly prayer, then being proactive and using patience.
August 28th, 2010
I posted this picture on my face book account. A friend left these lyrics from “Somewhere Over The Rainbow”:
Someday I’ll wake and rub my eyes
And in that land beyond the skies,
You’ll find me
I’ll be a laughing daffodil
And leave the silly cares that fill
My mind behind me
Another friend said, “Is this what happens after a hurricane?” I replied, “To my surprise, it did. I am now a laughing daffodil.”
After a very difficult month, V has shifted. I wish I could tell you exactly how it happened. I don’t know. I can tell you when it happened; when V let go of her anger. But it doesn’t matter, because even if I knew exactly what shifted her, the same thing rarely works twice. It’s really a matter of them choosing to let go.
Jay suggested while she’s in a good place we let her do as many fun things as possible so she’ll want to stay happy. I am wondering how Jay missed this important information in RAD 101. While that sounds completely logical, it doesn’t work that way. I tried. Over and over. It was an important lesson for me to learn; that I can’t make V happy and I can’t keep her in a good place. The best thing to do for V at this point, is to keep her focused and feeling safe. So I decided to take her down to my favorite horses. Today she rode a a very large half quarter horse/half clydesdale. Kate. An absolutely beautiful horse with a spirit to match. The horse was being led around the arena while V was lying crossed it. It was a trusting exercise that required me to walk along the side. She shared her feelings as to why she trusted me and she said, “I trust you because you are on my side.” She of course meant literally, I immediately thought of it as figuratively.
I think I needed to be reminded.
While raising a challenging child it constantly feels like a battle. It feels like someone has to “win”. I hate that feeling. And while it’s almost impossible to avoid, because V is always pushing for control she shouldn’t have, it’s nice to be reminded that we really are on the same side. It’s just nice to know she’s allowing herself to feel safe. Today was as comfortable as I had ever seen V when put in a position on the horse where she needed to trust me. When we arrived for the session I told her therapist she was about 3/4 to fully trusting me. There was just 1/4 that she was hanging onto for dear life. She let go of it today.
As I looked at her, and loved her and she let me, my heart was convinced she was worth it. But I still don’t trust it. I trust it in that moment. I don’t trust it to stay on my side. Just as I can’t invest in her anger; I also can’t fully invest in her love. It’s been a volatile venture. So although I’m “all in”, she still holds her cards close to her chest. (And she’s not always playing with a full deck:)) It also might be my trust issues; I’ve acquired a few. She knows I’m here to stay. She knows I’m on her side. When it comes to her feelings for me, I am not yet convinced. But as I have said before, I try and leave those feelings behind, and find some happiness in being a daffodil, hopefully a laughing one.
August 27th, 2010
I thought I’d share with you my experiences with V and school. When V started kindergarten in 2007, we were still trying to develop an attachment. I was still trying to learn and understand her thought processes. I didn’t know what to request from the teacher. The whole world of trauma was so new to me. The one thing that I did know was I couldn’t compete with the attention V received from school. One of her maladaptive behaviors was to seek attention and try to fill a void that should have been filled with my love. She had(s) a repertoire of attention getting tactics. Most of them appear benign. (see the link to the “Letter to Teachers” for examples of behaviors) The problem lies in is how she’s internalizing the exchange with her classmates, teacher or whomever she comes in contact with. V spends an enormous amount of mind share and anxiety trying to fill a need with attention. For me, I felt like I had to take her out of school so she could feel more safe to trust and know the difference between attention and love.
Homeschooling challenging children is VERY difficult. I was fortunate to have a educational resource nearby that was organized specifically for children with issues (behavior and emotional) related to trauma. V attended New Hope Academy in American Fork, Utah for a year and a half. There wasn’t always learning going on there. It was dependent on V’s level of cooperation. Since the school was so aware of V’s attention getting behaviors and need for control, V wasn’t able to use those maladaptive behaviors to fulfill any need she should be looking to me as her caregiver to provide. It was a major financial commitment to send V to New Hope but it was pivotal to her healing and frankly, mine as well.
As soon as that connection was formed, even weak at best, I knew it was time for V to venture into the real world. V still has some lingering anxiety. Anxiety is unresolved fear. I need her to learn to cope with those fears and I need an administration at school that is willing to help her as well.
I don’t know everything that V is fearing. But I do know some of them. V knows the difference between the shallowness of attention and the depth of love. She is still learning to feel safe and comfortable relinquishing control to experience that with me and others. It is still a battle for her not to seek attention (that comes so easily for her because she has spent her entire life demanding it) and not allowing herself to internalize it destructively. She KNOWS the difference. When I put her in a position, like school, it is so easy for her to fall back into her old thought processes. So it makes sense to me to minimize her interactions with others and limit as much stimulation as possible to try to keep her anxiety (fear) at a level she can feel safe. As she becomes more comfortable in these public settings that I can control for now, and help her cope, I hope when she’s older and I have no more control, she will be safe and healthy in her relationships with others.
The problem comes when she begins to feel out of control at school, the fear rises, there aren’t enough coping strategies in place at school to control it, so she brings it all home as anger. This anger says to Mom (in all the forms V’s anger takes), “You aren’t keeping me safe.” I also believe at this point V is also disappointed in herself that she’s not choosing to calm herself. Because school is provoking she falls so fast. And this is even with an aide at her side all day trying to redirect much of the stimuli.
For children, like V, that are pushing for control either through disruptive behaviors or more innocently looking attention getting strategies, the approaches for parents and teachers are the same. I have to hold her accountable for her disruptive behaviors (with the least amount of attention as possible) and many times avoid responding to or acknowledging annoying behaviors. As a teacher, when V holds her hand up to answer every single question, I’ve got to be thinking how she could be internalizing me calling on her often. When V says she doesn’t know how to do something, the first thing I need to do is get her to try to help herself so I’m not feeding the attention. At this point in V’s progression it isn’t helpful for her stand up in front of the class, or intentionally single her out. Placing V’s desk near the teacher and away from most students is helpful. As you can imagine, lunch and recess overwhelm them immediately.
And I know the first thing people will say to me is, “But she looks happy.” Welcome to my world. If I have learned anything from V, what you see isn’t always what you get. I don’t know how to explain to you that recess isn’t fun for V. She doesn’t allow it to be. Yet. She spends too much time accessing the situation, finding the weakest link, invoking control and it leaves her feeling awful. You won’t know it but the moment she steps in the van after school, I will. And V probably won’t let me forget it for a week.
The next few posts I’ll continue discussing V’s school experience.
August 24th, 2010
This was an email response from V’s therapist. I resented this. It some how implicated that the problem wouldn’t be so big, if I didn’t make such a big deal of it. Hmmm. I suppose I could have sought for more understanding but I think there are things a therapist will never understand, and that is the living with part of a child with severe emotional and behavioral issues.
It’s not so much that her behaviors are a dilemma for me (they are) but they are THE dilemma, especially for her. It just so happens that I am the one she engages so often. There wouldn’t be much of an issue if only V’s emotions were erratic and her behaviors weren’t. It isn’t possible; they go together.
There are many people from the outside looking in that believe I’m the one with the problem. It must be my control issues; or I’m an angry parent. It just couldn’t be further from the truth. As V gets older, I see she is becoming a liability. It is very difficult to commit to a child that has serious mental issues. It becomes more complicated when I’m still responsible for her poor choices. Oh sure, I can implement many natural consequences but that’s all most people see. They don’t see the offense. They don’t see the anger that is released in vengeance. And advenging what, praytell? I am not without fault, (but I am getting pretty darn close when it comes to her) but I promise you nothing I have done to V justifies what I have to endure. And that’s the kicker, most of the time isn’t what I have done but mom will always get the fall out.
I’m really not complaining here. I committed to this. This isn’t new. This started nearly the day she came home to her family. But what I’m so passionate about in this blog post, is this dilemma isn’t about me. The fact that V doesn’t go to Sunday school, doesn’t play with friends, spends much of her time in her room, has an aide at school with her every minute of the day, and attends therapy at least once a week, has nothing to do with me.
You want to know the part that has to do with me: the grief I feel from seeing each year pass by without having had experiences most Mom’s do with their young daughters; the disappointment I feel from a child that willingly admits and continues to choose anger instead of help. This anger is dangerous. It wants to hurt people. It wants to violate. It wants to lie, steal and destroy; the sacrifices I make to take whatever time is necessary, at nearly any expense, to make sure she has the best chance of leading a healthy life.
All parents feel grief, disappointment, and make sacrifices. I just didn’t realize I’d be feeling it everyday. But you know what? I don’t get stuck in it. Instead, I am her advocate. I try to see beyond the grief, to what could be. I don’t wallow in the disappointment but find some solace in the miracles. I don’t begrudge the sacrifices because God has given me the time, talents and abilities to help her. They were never mine in the first place.
But God did give me a choice and V has one too. I just think it’s hard for people to see what’s really being chosen here. I’ve chosen to help V for as long as I can be beneficial; right now she is choosing to be angry and distrustful. I won’t allow that to be perpetuated or enabled by strangers, teachers, relatives or friends. She and I have come too far. And this might be as good as it gets for her. But I won’t know that until the behaviors are no longer a dilemma or they become a dilemma for the justice system.
Whew. I’ll put the soap box away now.
August 21st, 2010
I know what’s going on. I just don’t want to believe I’m still witnessing it. 
Anger. Destructive power. V’s anger is so big. The injustices seem so small. I am a broken record. I see a pattern here. My blog post will become one too.
And it isn’t so much about the anger; it’s what V allows it to do to her. I can tell you on the surface why she says she’s angry. It’s crazy. She’s mad because I made her correct misspelled words. She insisted it was too hard and impossible. The biggest challenge with children like V, is the real motivating emotion is buried under all their blatant behaviors.
I suspect she is struggling to hold it together at school and turns around and lets it all out at home. I get that. I’m used to it. I’m accepting her inability to regulate herself. However, staying calm in the midst of a battering storm isn’t easy. I guess this is the hardest part for me.
The blame, the crazy excuses, the lack of respect, the destruction, wears on me. I know if I didn’t stand my ground, insist that she be accountable (for ALL of her choices), I wouldn’t get this backlash. But at the same time if I let up and enable her, all the while making my life seemingly easier, it does nothing to help V become emotionally healthy.
So I don’t question what I’m doing for her, I just wish it didn’t feel like I was a storm tracker. Not only am I anticipating the direction the storm is traveling, I feel responsibility to try and contain the amount of destruction she can inflict, to herself and others. It’s exhausting keeping people out of her path of destruction.
This is the invisible world that only the primary caretaker of a very challenging child would understand. I’m not complaining, well maybe a little 
but mostly I’m wishing it didn’t affect me. (I’m also wishing, but not enough to do anything about it, is how to use “effect” and “affect”)
Anyway, I guess I’m just wishing some days I wasn’t a living, breathing, feeling,
lightning rod. It would seem easier to be hard cold piece of aluminum, except then I remember I was that. And now when the negative forces strike, I internalize some of it but quickly let it go. In fact by the time you have finished reading this, I’ve refocused and regrouped. I’m the rainbow. I just don’t know how to avoid this process, it would require me not to feel and then I’d just be V.
So I’m going to find satisfaction in knowing I’ve become an expert on detecting approaching storms, wind speeds and direction, become an early warning system, all without needing a radar, buoy or satellite. Now, if I can just find that pot of gold.
August 17th, 2010
I know it’s only been a day but I’ve learned to appreciate 24 hours like never before. I don’t take minutes for granted. This is a photo of V this afternoon AFTER school. 
V has an aide with her at school. The school calls her an aide, I call her an Angel. This Angel is with V from the moment I drop her off to the moment I pick her up. It’s part of a whole series of miracles that happened for me (and V) last year. The Angel keeps V accountable which lowers V’s anxiety which means she’s more focused at school and MUCH more regulated when she comes home from school.
Stealing and lying are the behaviors V is hanging onto. I know they are typically the last to go. They are very useful for power trips; not so great for forming relationships. Today the Angel was telling me how she was implementing a trust chart to help V earn privileges at school. My initial thought was, “You can’t do that, she has to build trust with me.” Then I quickly remembered she does trust me. It is now time for her to extend that trust to others. I know it will look as volatile as the trust she has with me but I believe it will give her motivation to let go of all the controlling behaviors when she sees (and feels) good can come into her life from other directions besides me. And I’m not talking about the whole world, I’m just referring to her Angel and school teacher.
This feels big for me. And for her. V has more self direction and control than she has ever had. (I realize she ripped up her carpet only a week ago). She still requires constant accountability but she isn’t pushing hard against me or playing manipulating games. For now, her arsenal is all used up (which is why she gets so angry). I hope as she gets older she doesn’t feel the need to add to it.
Days like today help confirm for me that I’m doing it right. I did it the hard way. But I also think it’s the only way. I have stood my ground as the parent and refused to enable V. She now has power that comes from inside of her and not what she steals from around her. She just has to choose which kind she wants. And today, she was this quote that she can recite at will and feel so intimately:
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” -Marianne Williamson
August 16th, 2010
I amaze me.
I don’t really know what others are talking about when they tell me I’m amazing. I don’t think I see what they see.
I don’t think it’s amazing I wrote a book. I think it’s amazing I lived to tell about it.
I don’t think it’s amazing I was on a radio show. I think it’s amazing I’ve learned enough to sound like I know what I’m talking about.
I don’t think it’s amazing I’ve come this far with V. I think it’s amazing I never stopped praying.
I don’t think it’s amazing I put on seminars. I think it’s amazing people show up.
I want you to list five things that are amazing about you, that have nothing to do with what anyone else thinks about you. As far as this song is concerned, I don’t really know anyone that feels this way about me. Except me. I’m amazing. And so are you. Just the way you are. Look inside and find out why.
01 Just the Way You Are
PS My favorite line in this song: “If perfect’s what you’re searching for, then just stay the same.” Not because I think I’m perfect. I just don’t think I need to change for anyone. However I do
need to keep improving for me and hopefully the people around me benefit from the change. By the way, I usually only feel this way when I play this song. It’s on my iPod. It’s on repeat.
And when I went to add my graphic that said “Just Amazing” the graphic you see came up. Interesting. That’s exactly what you’ve got to do to feel amazing.
August 8th, 2010
Two posts ago I shared with you, for the fun of it, a morning in the life of V. Well, this photo is what happened later that afternoon. 
It’s so interesting. After the experience with V that morning, I sent my husband, Jay, a text that said, “We need to pull her carpet up.”
This carpet is full of bodily fluids. It is stained with food and I don’t even know what else. It is disgusting but it was also they only thing “normal” left her room. I have fought for years to pull it up. But last Monday afternoon, I thought while V may some day be the “better” I’m imagining, it probably won’t be in the time frame I’m anticipating. So imagine my surprise when I opened the door and saw that she had already done what I had planned to do. Even if I hadn’t planned it, I’m not surprised she did it. I’m just glad when someone asks why she doesn’t have carpet, I can simply say, “She didn’t want it.” One less thing people can blame me for.
The amount of anger V feels is something I can’t relate to. Her need for relief through destruction is something I have never desired. I don’t know what she feels like. And I don’t want to. I just want to help her avoid it. And she does, at times. Regrettably, pulling up her carpet helped her get rid of much of her anger. V is pretty clear right now. My head is still reeling. Here I have to trust in all this sincerity again. She’s moved on from the car incident and the room makeover. I’m still trying to figure out what I’m suppose to do with all the conflicting feelings. Oh, probably about the time I’ve balanced it all out, and let it go, she will crash and burn. It makes me laugh. Not so much because it’s funny, but it all seems so unreal.
I was instant messaging with one of my boys today as they are visiting grandparents. He made a comment about liking V’s floor. I told him V was in a pretty good place and I think she just needs to be able to pull up carpet. He laughed and said, “Tell Tori I love her.”
When I hear my sons say things like this I’m caught off guard. V isn’t easy to love. I’m her mom and sometimes it feels like obligation. The boys have many reasons not to love her and yet, in spite of her, and despite my weaknesses, they do. I didn’t ask why but now I’m wondering how.
I am blessed. I have a supportive husband, amazing boys, respite providers, an insightful therapist, loving friends and family. I don’t know why but I want to think I know how some of it has come… some from my imperfect diligence but mostly from God’s grace. Really it’s the only way I could tell Tori I love her.
August 3rd, 2010
This is a hard post.
There are something’s I need you to know. I write them in my posts and I hope it gives you some perspective on my life.
There are some things that I need you to remember because they aren’t so evident in my post. Even when I am discouraged and distraught remember:
Victoria has taught me patience;
to be less judgmental;
to feel so deeply;
that our traumatic experiences early in life don’t have to always hurt;
our spirits connect through our eyes;
forgiveness can come with no strings attached;
our actions indeed speak louder than words;
to hope;
how important it is to avoid anger;
how to let it hurt;
to share feelings;
to be a better mom, wife, sister, daughter and friend;
God will never forsake me;
through Christ I can let it go and it can let me go;
I have always loved with the spirit but it is so much deeper with all of this understanding and not just of her. And I’m still learning.
(quote by P.P. Pratt)
Someday I will be able to afford the bronze sculpture above, “Sleeper in Dreams” by James Christensen. I have always loved this sculpture because it reminds me of V. “We are, each of us, angels with only one wing. And we can only fly embracing each other.”–Luciano De Crescenzo
