Finding Hope

I rarely provide respite anymore for families. Not because I don’t think it’s needed; I believe it’s essential to a child’s healing. It’s just that I don’t really have a room anymore that is conducive to a struggling child and mostly, my other children are not comfortable with it. So on the rare occasion I take a child, the stars must be aligned and my children supportive.
Today was one of those days.
This little five year old has had an incredibly difficult start to life. If you can imagine it; she has probably endured it. She reminds me so much of V a few years ago. She challenges every single basic boundary. I am reminded of the exhaustive work. And I am a mother with years of experience. There are definitely things I would have done differently now to make it less exhausting on myself and that was consequences. I have learned that guilty compliance is slavery. And essentially, con-sequencing every single behavior encouraged that. I recognize the importance of consequences in moral development and to a lesser extent building trust. It can build trust but I feel like it’s the longer, harder way. As opposed to the already long, hard way these children choose.
I’ve learned the art of re-direction and of closeness as first alternatives. An example today occurred while I was mowing the lawn and having the five year old pull weeds. I gave her a two by two foot square to weed. This was after she was mostly successful in the front yard with the same size square. She struggled to stay focused and instead kept messing with a mushroom that was growing nearby. After a couple of redirections, I explained that she looked like she couldn’t handle the project right now and she would need to stay close to me. That meant following behind me while I mowed half of the backyard. She stayed the course but was tired. My intention was not to make her exhausted but to help her regulate and take some of the pressure off her from making a successful choice she couldn’t seem to be able to manage. After about 5 or so minutes of following me around, she chose to finish her small job. I wasn’t exhausted and she wasn’t angry. Closeness, which is what we want, is seen as a consequence for them but it’s a healthy one. And eventually they begin to see the value in it for themselves. It takes a while. And it’s done in a way that doesn’t shame but really seeks to help and serve a purpose. I remember hours I would engage V in a fight to finish some chore I gave her. It just made her angry and me resentful and became a battle of the wills.
As I watched the little girl today, I witnessed once again the constant boundary violations: pulling weeds where I didn’t specify, coming to get me to check often when she wasn’t done, trying to interrupt me when a neighbor stopped by to chat were just a few. And each time, I would draw attention to it, be curious about it and process it if needed. I wrote in my book no warnings. I think there is a time and a place for that but I also think there is value in re-direction, keeping in mind their intense anxiety and lack of focus.
I am far less tired and I never engaged in a battle of wills. It was so refreshing. The little girl said a few insightful things tonight when she wasn’t constantly contradicting herself, but she said, “My heart will never heal”. And I really think she believed it. I am pretty sure my hope was lost on her but was a reminder of their shame and the negative scripts in their heads that are on replay.
Her parents have a journey in front of them but I am so hopeful because V was there once. We both were and she has come SO FAR. The nature of this journey is on the job training. For most of us, we aren’t going to adopt another traumatized child with an attachment disorder because “we know what we are doing now”. There are not many opportunities for “do-overs” but I appreciate what have learned and being able to use it in so many different circumstances.

V has taught me more about shame, connection, heartache, joy, disconnection, forgiveness, boundaries, empathy, endurance, and what it means to love with your whole heart than all of my other relationships combined. She has helped me understand and navigate my relationships, especially my most difficult ones. I still struggle at times. My responses aren’t perfect. I still occasionally harbor resentment. I accuse, blame and avoid to reduce my own shame. And even with all the experience and learning…sometimes I don’t know what to do. But through it all the most important thing I’ve learned is the power of connection and acceptance. I am still learning how to do both of those things and I imagine this endeavor will accompany me to my grave. It is little wonder that I now find myself training to be a counselor. Not because I think I have great advice or insight, but I have a strong desire for connection and acceptance. It is a continual process, constantly trying to strengthen and improve. That is the beauty of relationships. There is so much potential for growth.
As I think about relationships, I’ve talked about how connection is formed through vulnerability. I also consider how acceptance is influenced by expectations. In all of our relationships we form expectations, especially for our children. I’ve learned a lot in the past year about how rigid expectations make acceptance very difficult. Expectations are driven by what we should be, how we should be and who we should be. I am not talking about boundaries. I have found when we are “shoulding” all over our kids or others, that increases their shame and makes our acceptance conditional. It is a delicate balance to want for more in a relationship and encourage that without minimizing or overwhelming. I need practice. Unfortunately for my kids, they are my practice
So it’s important to reality check our expectations. Who is setting them? and are they sending the message that being imperfect means being inadequate? (Brown) I am learning how to accept imperfections in myself and others.
It is in the process of embracing our (and other’s) imperfections that we find our truest gifts: courage, compassion, and connection. And a reminder, that we are all in this together. Brown, Brene (2010-09-20). The Gifts of Imperfection (pp. 57-58). Hazelden Publishing. Kindle Edition.

And a tribute to V for coming home:

My last post highlighted the insanity that can accompany the need to find the truth. My relationship with V improved tremendously when I was no longer dysregulated along with her (as in the previous post) and when she was able to be honest or eventually be truthful. She still continues to set up kids at her facility to avert responsibility and avoid consequences. But she eventually lets go of the lie sometimes faster than others. So it should come as no surprise that she would set Noah up as well. But it did.
She and Noah had been playing well together but the more comfortable she became, the more difficult she became to play with but Noah was holding his own and setting firm boundaries. V had been doing very well. She wasn’t really asking for everything she needed but she wasn’t trying to avoid help and meet her own needs either. I had to step in and help her through but no real struggles. Until I heard the back door open and when I looked around the corner I saw V grabbing two muffins. For any other child this would certainly look innocent enough except V has three rules, two of which are to ask for everything she wants and needs and don’t touch anything that is not her’s. One to trust the caregiver and the other to respect boundaries. So I was surprised when I saw her because she had done so well asking for what she wanted and for the most part, getting it.
As soon as she saw me, she froze. I simply asked, without accusation, “What’s going on here?”. She immediately went into melt down mode that blamed Noah for the heist. “He made me!” “He told me if I didn’t come and get them for him he would tell you I did something wrong and you would believe him and not me”, “I tried to tell him no three times and he wouldn’t listen to me”, “He has been so mean to me” and the blame went on. I was taken aback by the intensity. I finally told V that let’s forget the story and just talk for a minute about how she could have handled coming to get the muffins differently. I wondered aloud about coming to ask me but I only got more drama, more tears and more, “I know you don’t believe me but I am telling the truth.” And you know what? I got sucked in.
Once more I so badly wanted to give her some benefit of the doubt. I began to question Noah’s involvement and how he may have been treating her. I brought Noah in and talked to him and he explained that none of what she said was true. So while Noah recounted his version, feelings of Ireland began to wash over me so I said, “Noah, this feels a lot like what happened in Ireland with the candy bar.” To which he replied, “And you know how that turned out.” So at that moment I knew V was setting us both up.
I went back and explained to V that Noah simply didn’t have a history of lying or threatening behavior but she did. She held onto it for a while longer while I told her she would just need to stay closer and have less interaction with Noah for a while. And eventually she broke with the truth. Very little remorse, but the truth. And it was so hard for her. Accepting responsibility must reinforce their shame, that by admitting doing something wrong, there is something so wrong with them.
I was careful not to get caught up in her intense emotions (it was so hard) and to be attentive to her shame responses of anger and blame. There were no lengthy consequences of chores, or jumping jacks. Her only consequence was to be closer to me and limited time with Noah. I was able to process with her and talk about some important things but my heart was still hurting for all the lies about Noah and lying so effortlessly to me. The lies still roll of her tongue so easily, if it wasn’t for her intense emotional response, whining voice, and blame, finding the truth would be much more difficult.
So I had her repair with Noah and she was receptive to it. It took me a couple of days to even want to begin trusting her again.
I once again worry that these experiences will sound insignificant but if you have lived and loved through lies and more lies, one begins to understand the difficulty of trusting and having a heart in the right place.

I haven’t shared this story publicly. It’s not one of my finer moments. I was caught up in ignorance and exhaustion. I’m not even sure how well I can explain it or how well it can be understood without having lived with a child with a disorganized attachment. Because on the surface it will appear benign but it was predicated on years of lying, blaming, and all the behaviors that accompany shame and kill connection. It was before I had a diagnosis or had any idea what was going on with Victoria or me. It’s not a story I’m particularly proud of but I think it identifies the intensity in which traumatized children hold onto their shame and parents try to counter act with truth. The problem is getting to the truth requires courage to become vulnerable and that simply isn’t going to happen when kids are stuck in shame. I didn’t realize at the time how powerful the shame response is and how it shuts down vulnerability and suppresses any authenticity. In hindsight, I also see how it brought up my own shame.

We were living in Ireland struggling along with V. I was terribly confused and hurt by the lack of reciprocity despite our best efforts. It was an exhausting time for me, not only because of V’s behaviors but because she was stirring up all of my insecurities as well. My shame talk was attacking my mothering skills and the functioning of the family. V would lie about nearly everything. Sometimes it was easy to identify the truth when the chocolate was all over her face but other times she was so convincing that eventually I couldn’t trust her or my instinct. Not a great combination. In fact, it was this combination that made me feel crazy. I felt like I had lost my mind, I had already felt like I lost part of who I was. Shame was killing my authenticity as well.

Anyway, Sunday, Father’s Day 2006. Jay and Cameron had already left on a trip to London. The two boys, V and I were leaving that evening to fly into Denmark to meet some friends from America. We had gotten home from church earlier in the day when Grant came in to me distraught that the candy bar he had gotten from church with an individualized wrapper for his dad had a big bite taken out of it.

Instantly there was a few telltale signs that this was V’s doing. One, Noah already had a candy bar to give to his dad. Secondly, whoever bit the candy bar didn’t bother to take the wrapper off (classic RAD behavior). And finally, V had a long history of stealing, sneaking, biting, ruining, etc… Yet, despite all of this evidence weighing on V, she was so convincing that it wasn’t her. Tears and distress and justification and alibis and accusations. It was an Academy Award winning performance. But it left me with intense confusion and extreme anxiety. I was tired of the lying and not being able to tell what was the truth. The shame of feeling so inept and betrayed and crazy, I was determined to get a confession. I literally felt like my sanity was held hostage by finding out the truth.

I remember bringing all three kids into the kitchen. They stood against the wall as if I was trying to identify the culprit from a line up. I looked at them and questioned them extensively. You may find it as improbable as I do to this day but the first suspect I dismissed was V. I remember her going over to the table and just sat and witnessed the interrogation of her brothers. I was emotionally shot. I didn’t think it was possible that Grant would take a bite of his own candy bar and it just wasn’t Noah’s nature to do it. But as I stood there with tears streaming down my face, pleading for an answer, Noah confessed. And not a word from V. I sent Noah up to his room while I pulled myself together. I was devastated that Noah had done this. I went up to his room and he was crying.
“Noah, why didn’t you just tell me you did it?” I questioned, still crying.
“Because I didn’t. I just didn’t want you to be crying anymore.”
I knew in that moment, V did it. But I was still so confused about her lying and how convincing she was and without remorse could just see me fall apart accusing her brothers.
My own shame mixed with anger demanded a confession. I know it seems so ridiculous but at the time I had no idea a child was capable of such intense lying and setting people up and showing no guilt or remorse. Yet, I had witnessed it everyday for about two years. So to reduce my shame and insanity I came up with my own polygraph test. At this time the taxi had come to take us to the airport. I was an emotional wreck. I can remember sitting at the gate in the airport and told the three kids, “ I have written yes and no on each of these papers. If you did it, circle yes. I won’t know who did it because none of them have names on them”. Well, the two boys had a pen and V had a pencil. As I unfolded the papers, there was one that had circled yes with a pencil. At that moment, there was rage. I called Jay immediately. He was on his way home to Ireland when I told him he had to fly to Denmark and get V or she wouldn’t be safe. I know it seemed ludicrous to have Jay spend over a thousand dollars to pick her up and drop off Cameron but I don’t think I could adequately describe in this blog post the hurt and frustration that tortured me nearly everyday. I certainly wasn’t able to help my friend in Denmark understand why I was doing something so drastic. It wasn’t possible for me to put in all in context because I didn’t know what was going on with V or me.

I share this story because it was one example of being set up by V that compromised my relationship with my other kids. It’s how one child could come into a family and completely break it down. You can imagine if Jay didn’t understand and empathize with me, how my request to come get her could have been denied or met with anger. It was a lifesaver that he and I were on the same page. We didn’t understand V but we knew something was fundamentally wrong with her and ultimately it wasn’t us.

The second reason I share this story is because history repeated itself today. I am happy to report that while the same people played the roles, and there was a hint of familiarity, the outcome was much different. I’ll blog about that in the coming days. It’s interesting that this story is still so vivid in mind both the visual and emotional aspects. The experience reminds me of the emotional volatility that sought to wreck our lives and the extreme lengths I would go to to find some stability, some truth, some justice.

V is home for her longest home pass yet, 2 weeks. She has been away for over a year and a half. And there has been great healing. She is much more regulated which allows her to be so much more successful in nearly every area of her life. She isn’t pushing boundaries and is more trusting. She still doesn’t seek meaningful connection. I can tell she wants it but I know she still has some shame talk that questions her worthiness and being lovable. It’s interesting for me to recognize that her shame still effects me. It is the very thing that stifles reciprocity. I gave all I gave for so long and although I didn’t do it right all of the time, my compassion didn’t fully break down her walls. I have some trepidation. And instead of allowing myself to be tentative, my own shame is telling me, “You aren’t doing enough” or “You are not being a very good mother”. It’s amazing how shame targets motherhood, and parenting in general.
I know eventually I will need to be all in but for now I’m reaching out, carefully. I also know I will get there-to the place of vulnerability that sounds like truth and looks like courage. I’ll go there with her. I’ve learned to recognize my shame messages and counter-act them. I’m still working on the courage.

I’ll talk more about working through shame but for now here are four ways people practice shame resilience:
1) They understand shame and recognize what messages and expectations trigger shame for them.
2) They practice critical awareness by reality-checking the messages and expectations that tell us that being imperfect means being inadequate.
3) They reach out and share their stories with people they trust.
4) They speak shame—they use the word shame, they talk about how they’re feeling, and they ask for what they need.

Brown, Brene (2010-09-20). The Gifts of Imperfection (p. 40). Hazelden Publishing. Kindle Edition.

Lately my posts have been all about shame. It makes so much sense to me in explaining why V does what she does and why I so often reacted the way I did. It’s like a goldmine of information. More than an a-ha! moment. Weeks and weeks of reading Brene Brown’s work and other research on shame, in between studying for finals, has my head spinning with information. The only thing I can do is share it in bits, and I apologize, in no real order.

Triggers, buttons, shark music, unfinished business, “your stuff”, are all the buzz words for the barriers that prevent parents from being attuned with their kids. I have always heard these words and used them but I didn’t understand what they really were. I knew they caused me to be angry, frustrated and at times feeling inept. Essentially it was all the things that prevented me from being that coveted secure base. What I didn’t realize was a lot of those things are made up of shame. They can just be called shame triggers. And it makes sense that if V was spewing all her shame on me, it was causing all my shame to rise to the surface. Shame begets shame.Why have I never heard this before? It’s true, we don’t want to talk about shame. Oh sure, we were always commenting on V’s shame, but that was “over there” something very distinct and far removed from me. Not so. No wonder these kids are so hard to parent-they really force you to look inside to see what is going on with you. Two roads diverged in the road…you either take the one less traveled and examine the shame which leads to connection or continue on the struggle of disconnection.

How to identify shame triggers? We are familiar with the physical characteristics…eyes cast downward, hiding the face by turning away or covering with the hands, slumped shoulders, head hanging low. Physiologically we may feel our stomach tighten, nausea, shaking, heat in face and chest, wincing and tinges of smallness (Brown). And psychologically we began to have thoughts that minimize us, make us want to hide, protect ourselves, question our worth, diminish our abilities. It often sends us into the fear response of flight, fight or freeze. Anger, avoidance, depression. Shame invites isolation. It wants us to feel like we are all alone.

As much as I am finding out answers about V as I read, I also finding out answers about me. I have only touched lightly on recognizing our shame triggers but Brene Brown has a worksheet you can work on here.

So really all I’ve done is give you another name for what is keeping relationships stuck. Not super helpful, but it is important that before we can do something about the shame, we need to know when and how it exists for us individually. The next few posts will be about working through shame. For some, like me,  this required more than a blog post or a worksheet, I needed to find a therapist. I encourage you to do that as well if this feels incredibly overwhelming and scary.

I know I am going against the grain here but just as an alternative perspective: for my child excessive exercise, belts, slapping, creating feelings of dominance in long run didn’t work. I may have gotten temporary outward compliance but for her it was an endless amount of internal resentment and pushing her further into her shame. I recognized that when I engaged her in a fight for control it was usually my own fear response. Is what we are doing for our children simply trying to make us feel better or is it actually trying to make the relationship better? This disorder is about relationships so while I know there must be boundaries, respect cannot be forced. Trust has to exist before these kids can ever consider thinking about another person or doing things for the right reasons or for a consequence to really improve behaviors for the long term. I get the desire for these kid to have some accountability and responsibility but I think we must be sensitive to balance that carefully with their anger and shame response. That doesn’t help them progress but pushes them further down the black hole they live in. Setting limits and losing opportunities that they can’t handle can be done in a way that doesn’t keep them stuck in shame. Otherwise, it’s like we are reaching down our hands to them while stepping on their chest. We can’t help them while helping them feel horrible about themselves at the same time.

These kids live, breathe and eat shame. Shame is the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging (Brown). And many times their shame brings up our shame. We all have some. It is not my intention to come across as Pollyanna. I know these kids are tough and as parents we are rarely understood, supported or validated. I know we live in a world where people underestimate what hell we endure from behaviors that are coming from the most primitive part of our children’s brains that would rather die or kill us in the process than trust. I understand far too well the thought process of putting vinegar on their tongue, having them stand in tile square for hours or running up and downstairs. But the problem is, if our focus starts with the behaviors we are working from the outside in and these kids need healing from the inside out.

And that was what was incredibly difficult for me. My own shame, insecurity, anger and lack of tools prevented me from ever considering another approach. That’s why therapists usually have to work first with the parents. Not because this is a parenting problem. This is an innate human response. Essentially what we are asking our kids to do, become vulnerable, have empathy, exercise forgiveness, increase patience, and offer grace, we have to get their first. We certainly can’t give our kids what we don’t have.

I absolutely believe there is a time for a focus on behaviors, accountability and responsibility and restitution. But I don’t believe it can be the first line of defense in helping our kids heal. Empathy is the antidote to shame. We have to go where they are without getting stuck in our own shame and fear responses. Learning how to help kids out of the swampland of shame is what I wish therapists understood in helping parents. It’s not a parenting problem, it’s a fear response and we just end up scaring the hell out of each other. It looks like anger and hopelessness.

So for me the bottom line is we have to create boundaries that are firm, yet flexible created by empathy and grace. That doesn’t happen overnight. It can be a very long process for some, like me, that fought against becoming vulnerable. The very same fight V was having. Vulnerability is not about weakness or letting someone walk all over you. It’s about opportunities for growth with a risk of failure and getting hurt. And if you are raising any child especially a child with RAD it will hurt. You will fail. But you will get back up and know this place of vulnerability is where real change takes place because on the other side of that risk is healing and progress.

V came home for her second home pass this past week for about seven days. She did great. She was well regulated, wasn’t pushing boundaries and was extremely appropriate. It is hard for me to fully appreciate these moments. I’m still expecting a really deep connection and I’m afraid it’s going to get worse before it gets better. So instead of being able to fully appreciate the progress she has made-I’m missing moments of happiness. It’s not the first time I’ve done this and it’s not as bad as it once was. I used to walk on egg shells, literally holding my breath all day, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The thing is, on this visit, I knew there were going to be no broken eggs shells or declarations of a shoe war. And yet, fear kept me from feeling as good as I could have or from reaching out to her. I’m stuck in a feared future and an aversive past. It really is about staying in the present moment with her. A goal I will have for myself on her next visit. She will come home every month now with each visit getting progressively longer.

I witnessed a significant change in V that I had never seen before. I’ve always known she has felt inadequate, uncertain and fearful but getting her to feel it was nearly impossible. She walked around with an air of superficial confidence and craving for attention. This past Sunday when she was called to stand in front of the congregation to receive a certificate of advancement, she couldn’t look up. Her eyes were cast down. She wanted to crawl into the floor. I had no idea if she was going to lift her head up to find her way back to her seat. For any other person witnessing it, it might have been painful but for me it was refreshing. Finally, what was really going on inside was true to the outside. I’m not happy that V is still feeling insignificant and painfully embarrassed. But I am so happy that we can talk about it and she can be honest with her feelings. And you want to know the amazing part? In those moments, she seeks my comfort. I am a secure base. I hope she will never forget it and forever trusts it.

is scary, but a necessary part of being human. To risk. To feel. And to grow. And to discover what is possible.

And I suck at it.

I want guarantees. I want to know if I invest thousands of dollars and hours of therapy that V will heal.

I want to know if I apply for that PhD program I will succeed.

I want to know you love me first.

I want to know I won’t get hurt.

I want to know if I do it, you’ll like it.

I want to know exactly what to say, how to say it and when to say it before I say it.

It’s fear. It’s a fear of being vulnerable and as much as I want to accuse V of being stuck in her fear, so am I, at times.

It’s limiting. It limits joy, possibility, and love. And it limits failure. That sounds like a good thing but that’s where we learn.

“Faith is a place of mystery, where we find the courage to believe in what we cannot see and the strength to let go of our fear of uncertainty.” -Brene Brown

I’m on this constant quest for faith-finding faith in God, faith in me and faith in you. It allows me to believe in something I cannot see but I know is there. And it takes vulnerability.

“Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity and change.” -Brene Brown

The DSM is the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. It’s often referred to as the therapist’s Bible. The very nature of the book is controversial as it tries to fit humans into neat categories with often hazy criteria. A diagnosis can be a helpful in understanding a person but it isn’t who they are. A diagnosis is sometimes looked at as a necessary evil for insurance companies.

I made this mistake with V. She thinks she is “RAD”. As a therapist in training we are often reminded, “You are treating the patient, not the disorder”. I don’t ever want to forget that. So when I hear people calling their children their “radish” or “my rad”, I cringe. These children are struggling with something, they aren’t the something.

V’s identity is so closely associated with RAD and it isn’t positive. How I wish I would have been more sensitive to what a label would do to her, especially because she already struggles with a feeling of worthlessness.

So yes, some diagnostic criteria is necessary but we should be very sensitive that we don’t hang it around their necks.