July 21st, 2010
I may feel crazy, but I am so not.
I do however feel like I’m living in the twilight zone. This doesn’t have a citation on Wikipedia but I’m using it. The term “twilight zone” predates the television program, and originally meant simply a “gray area.” (Intelligence analysts in the early Cold War labeled a country a twilight zone if there was no definite U.S. policy on whether to intervene militarily to keep it from going Communist.
My intelligences hereby analyze my life with V as “gray area”. I have no definite policy on whether or not I want to intervene to keep her from going Crazy. Crazy being so eloquently defined as, “senseless, impractical, likely to break or fall to pieces, weak, having an unusual, unexpected, random quality.” I don’t have a military to call in. And really, I can’t keep her from going there.
The reason I feel crazy is because as you can see from the past few post, V is so volatile. I have people asking me, “So, is V taking swimming lessons?” or “Does she have her things back in her room?” or “Are you taking her to California?” And a few days ago when V was so clear and I was having an amazing conversation with her, I would have loved to offer all of those things to her. But suddenly, she falls into a black hole. This is not a gray area. She’s yelling, “Loser!” to everyone that passes her bedroom door. I’m standing there thinking, “What the heck?” I can’t even think about swimming lessons, tennis lessons, a new paint color for her walls or a vacation with her. I’m still uncertain about what my interventions are doing for her. This has everything to do with her anger. Justified anger. Is there a more dangerous kind? I think not. She feels entitled to her anger. I have no arsenal for that except Noah and I are taking a road trip to CA to see his All Star team play in a regional tournament. I am so relieved to be leaving the twilight zone for a week which means I won’t have much to blog about. I’m not complaining 
My favorite part of the crazy definition: having an unusual, unexpected, random quality. This makes me laugh out loud and is an understatement. This is V and this is the part most people never ever see. So, I’ll hang in there and do what I can, when I can. But right now I don’t have a policy because apparently according to Wikipedia a policy is “typically described as a principle or rule to guide decisions and achieve rational outcome.” And I know right now nothing I do is going to achieve a rational outcome. Wow, I have never felt better about doing nothing. Or more sane.
July 19th, 2010
Something is changing in me. I’m not sure I should try to blog about it, because I’m not sure what it is.
I think it has to do with acceptance.
Some days I feel my home is a residential treatment center for V.
It’s hard to be a mother to a child that is mostly familiar with in an institution. Our expectations aren’t the same.
She is scared to hope for more and I am fearful to settle for less.
V was so angry today. She yelled out her mads, at me, the target: 
“I”m mad you took me to respite!”
“I’m mad you don’t feed me good food!”
“I’m mad you made me do a chore!”
“I’m mad God tells you how to take care of me!”
“I’m mad you still love me!”
“I’m mad I don’t get to do what my brothers do!”
“I’m mad you give me things I don’t deserve!”
And it went on and on. I can’t even begin to describe to you the defiance, mockery, and contempt I had to endure on the car ride home. May you never experience it so you don’t have to love through it.
I guess I don’t need to tell you this isn’t anywhere close to the voice I am familiar with which is strange because it’s the one I hear most often.
But the part that is changing in me is the motivation to reach out to her, even if the swells of hate are pounding against me, because there is a fragment of sincerity I see in her. I hate having to trust it. It would be easier to overlook it or even better, discount it.
I don’t know if V will ever allow this place to feel like home. I wish she could just click her heels three times. But then that means she would have to believe there’s no place like home. She’s felt it. She just doesn’t believe it. Trust it.
So, I’ll believe until she can. I think that’s the change I’m feeling. I’ll wear the ruby slippers and she can just keep thinking she’s the girl in the glass one’s.
July 17th, 2010
I have received so much gratitude for writing my book “Love Lessons”. I know there can’t be anyone as grateful as me. 
I don’t read it as often now but I found myself picking it up today and my heart was breaking. I am so glad those days are over. And if you are in the midst of them, they will end. It can and does get better. I never want to go back to those days and I never will. There are still hard days but nothing close to what I experienced between the covers of that book.
If I could choose one song that describes my experience with V. It’s this song, It is true, there is nothing I wouldn’t do to help her feel my love. Even when I felt so much contempt and hate, I couldn’t quit. It reminds me of this conversation we had a year ago. Everyone was out of town and V was angry. How could I possibly remember what for? But she slammed her door open putting the handle through the wall. I stayed calm but inside I was so spent. I knew I’d have to patch it up or she would just make it bigger but I didn’t have it in me. I just let it go for the night. The next morning she says to me,
“I thought about making that hole bigger and crawling in it but I was worried there wasn’t a floor to catch me.”
“And then what would you do?” I asked.
“Someone would come get me,” she responded.
“Who would want to come get you?” I retorted.
“Someone who loved me would come get me,” she said.
“Like who?” I asked.
“You,” she replied.
“You’re right I would. That’s what I do-I get you out of holes you keep falling in.” I pointed out.
Even in the moments where I swear I’ll never do another thing for her or take her to another therapy appointment, I do. Because even if she hasn’t made her mind up yet, I have. There is no doubt in my mind this is where she belongs.
The last few days have been beautiful here. I don’t wonder anymore if they will last but I do still get disappointed when they leave. And sometimes it does take a while to build up the stamina to do all that is required of me but I get there. I’m so glad getting there isn’t the rock slide and climb it was before. Listen to your heart. Trust yourself.
July 15th, 2010
(This post feels vague and I apologize. I’m leaving out many aspects of the week but it would take so long to describe. I hope the spirit of the message is present somewhere)
V’s anger was off the charts this week. I saw a hatred in her eyes I hadn’t seen for a while. She spent a few days in respite. We had a good moment at horse therapy but it was short lived. I was disappointed. I again found myself wondering what it all was for….I am so attentive to what she needs. I know when she needs respite, or when a therapy session might be helpful. I’m not always right and she isn’t always cooperative but my track record is pretty good now. It is all about giving her the opportunities to shift to a trusting place, it’s just that she rarely takes advantage of those opportunities. However, when she does…I am astounded. I am shocked at her ability to feel so deeply and passionately. Her understanding suddenly exceeds her years and I find myself questioning the little girl’s voice I am hearing. I realize in these moments, this is my daughter. This is the girl that I am so familiar with. I know her. I love her. ( I need to remind you that it took years to find this sincerity and vulnerability)
In the last therapy session V was angry because I had taken her back to respite after the horses and she was now trying to determine if she was going to go back. This is her conversation with Max: (note Max just got done telling her she needs to stop worrying about things she doesn’t have control over like, respite)
Max: Your mom and I had no intentions to send you back to respite yesterday. You were so angry you had already decided you were going to go there.
V: Do you have intentions today? (subtly but innocently trying to exert some control and see if she was going to go back)
Max: (Smiling) Yes, I have lots of intentions today. (Clearly, not letting on whether or not she was going to respite)
It got me thinking about God’s intentions. I got discouraged this week and wondered what it was all for? I am not refined, but I feel like I have been sifted pretty good. I know I have many lessons to learn, it’s just that it seems like I’m constantly trying to figure out what God wants me to learn in all these difficult moments with V. And then it occurred to me that it might not be so much about me but more about V. I can’t help but think these experiences, which are so difficult for a nine year old to endure, are teaching her lessons that will determine what her future looks like. Shifting my thought process to seeing her struggles as her own Via Dolorosa (a true journey of grief and suffering) doesn’t lessen my heartache but does relieve much of the pressures I put on myself.
As I listened to V tonight, I swear it was a conversation I would have with few adults. Her insights to her thoughts and feelings were descriptive and deep. “I am sick of this cycle”, she confided. ” I hate being in my room. I am really sick of it.” I know better than to believe this is some kind of new revelation with lasting effects but it is the first time I have heard her so sincere. I asked her why this time would be any different, “Because I care,” she said. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say that.
So, this is a miracle moment that I share with you. I can’t waste my time wondering if it will last. I just have to take it and use it to motivate me forward. That is how it’s always been. The only difference I feel now is our intentions. V’s intentions seem different and so do mine. They seem more like His, instead of ours. Click for God’s Will
July 13th, 2010
V’s therapist met us at Hoofbeats to Healing to do a session on one of their amazing fox trotters. 
This session confirmed to me and proved to V, that she isn’t trusting me. I knew it. It’s why she has been stuck for so long but it broke my heart seeing it so tangible on the horse. It broke V’s heart knowing it’s so hard. There were no smiles but there were real feelings. Before we left to go home, I held her in the front seat of my car where so many pivotal moments have taken place. As I held her, knowing I’d be sending her back to respite because she is still holding onto fear, my heart allowed itself to feel what my mind was thinking.
Right now I have control. I can send V away to respite and then bring her back home. Some day, not many years from now, she will be able to choose to go and I can’t make her come back. I don’t go to those thoughts very often. It’s okay though, because even in her struggle to trust, at least it exist.
For many years it was only fear. I fought and exhausted myself for this child to finally feel. I promise you don’t know what this means unless you have a child frozen by trauma. This is where the success for me will always be. I broke down her wall (with an amazing supporting cast). I have seen the light in her eyes. If she never decides to keep it and grow it, that will be a tragedy but it won’t be about what I did or didn’t do.
My tennis coach is always reminding me to breathe. I literally had to breathe with each bounce and each hit on both sides of the net until it became natural. Since when was breathing not natural? When you are under a lot of pressure. In those first few years with V which were the most physically exhausting, I wish I would have remembered to breathe more. I would have given up and given in less. 14 Breathe In Breathe Out (click to breathe
July 10th, 2010
I must admit, I thought after I had written “Love Lessons”, V would immediately heal. I knew people would be looking to me for hope. I wanted to be able to show them, you, a healthy child. A success story. The only success story I have to show you is me. Oh, I have plenty of successes with V (and I’m working on a blog of her milestones) it’s just, I thought I would be singing more of her praises than mine. This is part of the reason why even if V doesn’t ever get better, I can’t deny what she has done for me. I love her. So deeply. And when I stop and allow myself to feel it, my heart is so broken. I spend so much of my days deflecting her attacks. I have to appear unaffected, casual, indifferent, content and fine. I don’t know when she is allowing herself to feel my love. I want to feel hers. I long for it.
I am human so I have protective measures in place to save me from taking her behaviors personally. This same protection often numbs me. Which I see is okay because if I didn’t, the pain I feel at this moment would seize my heart everyday. It is grief. There is significant loss for both the parent and the suffering child. I’m sad for what she is missing out on in her childhood. My tears flow effortlessly when I consider the tender moments I am missing out on in this young girl’s life. I have witnessed and felt so intimately the purity of her love and the vulnerability of her spirit. I work so hard for her every day so she can feel safe revealing that. It isn’t my efforts failing, it’s her choice.
So while I can’t look to her for my daily motivation, I surround myself with other forms of encouragement. I look to people, music, books, or blogs. I may find it in a sunset, or a rose garden, a long run or a massage. But none of those things are consistent. And sometimes, they disappoint. I always find myself looking inward and upward. There is power in fervent faith and unpretentious prayer. I don’t know what tomorrow looks like. I don’t know what next year will feel like. The one thing I do know, is if you hold on, the light will come. 09 Hold On, the Light Will Come ( click to play)
July 8th, 2010
My last post played right into V’s therapy session. We talked about her addictive cycle. V’s control comes through attention. ANY attention. Her choices determine if she wants to continue feeding the destructive cycle or not. I used to call it her fear brain vs. her trusting brain. Now, it’s her addictive brain vs. her free brain (essentially it’s still the same thing, fear and trust, but it’s another way for her to see it). Choices are the very things that determine what part of the brain we are camped out in. When we fall victim to addiction with poor choices, our freedom becomes limited. V is pretty stuck at the moment. Her freedom is very limited. Her ability to make a good choice seems too hard right now.
This morning I gave her a rag to wipe off the writing on her walls. She let me know she was finished and handed me back the rag. I took the rag and noticed she still had half the writing on the wall. So I simply told her she wasn’t leaving her room until the writing was gone and now she didn’t have a rag, she’d have to figure out how to clean the walls by herself. This is so indicative of her life. Not only do controlling children not want to ask for help, they rarely accept the help when freely given. V has for most of her life with me, taken the long, hard road to everywhere. It used to frustrate me. But now I just accept her choices and let the consequences follow.
V finally cleaned her walls (I didn’t ask how ) and then we went out to do yard work. Her controlling feature of late is letting me know when she’s done ( and she usually isn’t). She won’t just finish a task and find satisfaction in it. No, she wants to draw it out for hours. And sometimes I let her, but lately I don’t because she has slipped back into sucking the attention out of everything and everyone around her. These are very simple choices she is struggling with. These decisions seem small but they build upon themselves into something bigger and better. She isn’t making it to the bigger and better part. She is stuck. It begins with a poor choice, it moves to anger, isolation and then feelings of being unloved and unwanted. This destructive part of the brain distorts reality. This is when I hear, “You did this to me”, “You don’t love me”, or “I can’t do it.”. The back of the brain.
It’s sad to watch her hang out for so long in this state but I’m so glad I’m no longer cycling with her. I used to fall victim to her snares to pull me in with anger and frustration. I have my moments but I’m not on her roller coaster. This is the hardest part for me: seeing so much potential, having so much to offer her and seeing her disregard it all. All because she’s choosing a comfortable place in her brain. Yet, she doesn’t look comfortable. There was a time where she did look perfectly fine in this state, probably because that’s all she had ever known. But now that she has experienced all that love and trust has to offer, it looks like an internal struggle. It’s just too hard to give up the control. She still gets something out of it, even though it feels like crap.
So I wait. And I do lose motivation at times but I am always right there when she begins to become humble and respectful. I’m waiting for not only that psychological change but physical change as well. As she shifts, I can see her face soften, her eyes shine and her posture is stronger. It is amazing to see the transformation. Her hugs have feeling and her smile has a voice. So I’m waiting for the light in her eyes. It’s been awhile.
July 6th, 2010
When this road gets crazy and tries to break me
And I’ve had all I can stand
I can close my eyes no matter where I am
And just be still. (Tim McGraw) 01 Still (click to play)
I have so many conflicting emotions. The ones I should be experiencing… and the ones I’m actually feeling. SHOULD. A destructive word. I was away for the holiday weekend. We left both nine year olds at home. I felt so much stress on the drive home and it wasn’t because our truck broke down and we had to secure a rental in the middle of nowhere Wyoming. I knew I was coming home to all things V. I am so grateful to have healthy, loving children to offset V’s drain. As soon as I saw N, the love couldn’t be hidden from his face. As soon as I saw V, I couldn’t tell if it was hiding or it’s not there. I’m losing motivation to find out.
I watched the show “Intervention” this weekend. I usually don’t watch that show. It hits too close to home. I watched a segment on an adult with an eating disorder and then a mother who was an alcoholic. It was not only destroying their bodies, but their relationships as well. It was essentially the same thing: addiction. The brain is in an addictive cycle. Sadly, the same demons they were dealing with, I also see in my nine-year-old daughter. V’s brain is also in an addictive cycle. It reinforces her wall and pushes me further away. I spend my time, an insane amount of money, a substantial amount of mind share, trying to help her shift this cycle. I have no doubts I’m doing the right things for her but it’s so hard to stay motivated when V just doesn’t seem to care. I can do many things for her but I can’t make her care.
So in those moments where stress has a tourniquet on my gut and exhaustion cascades from my head to my feet I know I’ve got do something. That “something” is usually just be still.
There is a place I need to go
Where the stained glass windows glow
Every part of me is known
Thank God I can go there
Thank God I can go there still
Still
I’m not going to try to do one more thing for her until I am clear. I’ve learned that if I push myself too hard, it just turns into resentment. I trust my heart. I know it will rebound. It’s already started to. I don’t feel like talking to her, taking her to therapy or trying. So I’ll just close my eyes and go to the stained glass windows, or the high mountain air, or wherever that place is I need to go and be still. And I know I’ll come back ready to give.
June 30th, 2010
I have no idea what the title of this post means.
But I can tell you what this picture means. For V, this meant she had a great week climbing trees, swimming, spending time with the family, feeling safe, especially not looking for unhealthy attention (so big for her). And me? It meant my life finally felt really normal. She still had very tight limits but she was thriving. It felt long term.
And then it all unravelled.
This is the closest picture I have to unravelled. (Sorry it’s so grainy but seems appropriate) This is the face I’ve had for the last two weeks. Notice the hands on the hips and the dilated pupils. It feels long term.
I should be grateful for a week but instead I get frustrated. Apparently I’ve forgotten the years that went by without a genuine smile from V. But it just stands to reason now, if I have felt as good as it gets, anything else is so disappointing. V has fallen prey to the back of her brain. Anger and apathy reside there. Thankfully I didn’t become a casualty as well. I don’t know how long she is going to hang onto it. For the first few days, I’m encouraging and hopeful it will pass quickly. After two weeks, I begin to lose motivation. I’m still here willing and ready when she wants to be respectful and trusting. It’s up to her. She knows how to get emotionally unstuck (after years of me helping her out). I feel pretty powerless now. It feels long term.
So which part should I think long term?
All of it.
Mentally it is so much better for me to savor the good moments, practice patience in the hard moments and think this cycle will play out long term. Until it doesn’t anymore. My heart wants predictions. My mind says as long as it takes. This is one of those times where I have to think with my head and not with my heart. And then I’ll understand the title of this post.
June 30th, 2010
Spring showed her face again today. Sun, no clouds, birds chirping, and melting snow run-off rushing down the mountain. All I hear is nature’s noise. What a relief.
I sense, sometimes not soon enough but before it’s too late, when I need a break. I leave things undone and priorities get pushed down a place in line. But I go with no regrets knowing a list of priorities is no good without the energy to accomplish them. I’m still not sure why this canyon, that surrounds me securely on all sides, inspires me enough to let go and re-focus. It never fails me. It doesn’t even matter the season. I’m realizing one of the most significant things this does for me is take me out of my world- for a moment.
I see two fisherman. They aren’t near each other. They too are alone in their thoughts. They aren’t a distraction-they are a confirmation that there are places in this world, as close as you can get, to time standing still. This place should be packed with solitude seekers. I’m glad it’s not. I don’t know how much strength I’ll have when I get down but I know it’s more than when I came up. (Written April 2010)
Everyone needs to find their passion. The thing that needs no motivation. Something that allows you to get lost in the moment and is the only thing that occupies your thoughts. Something that you can do often and ideally all year around. After you have finished you feel confidence and relief. I finally found mine in tennis. I will admit during the most difficult times w/V, I spent way too much time playing and it no longer provided relief. It wasn’t fun anymore. I realized there needed to be a balance. I took a few months off and re-centered myself focusing not only on my physical needs but emotional and spiritual needs as well.
Nurturing ourselves doesn’t need to be time consuming nor expensive. Just something that makes you feel better when you’re finished. Taking time to read a book, laughing with my boys, taking a nap, sending a card, writing in my journal, calling a friend, getting a massage, eating some really good chocolate, sitting in the sun, planting some flowers, getting away for the night, listening to music and praying are just some of my favorites. The benefits are so instantaneous and gratifying. I’m not so sure the list is the hard thing…I think it’s allowing ourselves to feel good. We are often so hard on ourselves. Give yourself a break.
Not only am I willing to take the time for myself but I have a great support system around me that allows me to do it. Husbands, parents, in-laws, friends, babysitters, neighbors, any and all resources that are available to you. Find them. Use them. I’d love to show a list of those things that are most nurturing to you. Those things that take you out of this world. Email them or post a comment.
