Jay and I had a Skype therapy session with Victoria tonight. She is often so hyper and unfocused. Tonight was a bit different. V wants to come home so badly for a visit. We try to help her understand what it will take to make that happen. It isn’t about earning her way home. It really is about feeling her way home. As we explained to her that as soon as she is comfortable with their rules and expectations at the center she is in, we can trust that she could come home for a visit following those same rules at home. I think when she realized it was all up to her, it felt like climbing Mt Everest, without a guide.

I could see it in her face. I can feel her…even so far away. I asked her if she felt like she could do it. She shook her head no as the tears began to fall. I already knew what was happening inside her head-what she tells herself and then begins looking through the negative lens. We remind her that she doesn’t have to do it alone. There are many people there helping her along the way and SO MANY other people that care so deeply for her. We have her name some of those people. She names her family and her Heavenly Father and the lens begins to clear. She is missing her family. And we are missing her.

And yet, once again I am convinced and certain, V is the perfect place for her. The model, the support, the environment is exactly what she needed. Raising a child with a mental illness is so very difficult. It is a journey of hairpin turns, back tracking and very slow progression. As I consider the difficulty of this relationship…it isn’t so different for any other kinds of relationships that struggle for a connection.

It requires sensitivity, empathy, forgiveness and so much patience. I love my paradigm shift that no longer is waiting for my expectations to be fulfilled, but instead really allowing her to become. And I don’t know what that’s going to look like. I’ve had glimpses and I have a feeling she will one day exceed any expectations I may have had. And I know it all has to do with allowing her to transform in her own way and her own time.

I no doubt frustrated and hindered that process. We all do at times, even in our most valued relationships. And these sentences are so easy to write with her hundreds of miles away. But it confirms for me that she must be in the right place if we are both as healthy as we’ve ever been since she has been home. I am more hopeful than ever even though she still is struggling to let them meet her most basic of needs. But it is a process that they know can’t be forced. They have the time, manpower and an environment conducive to allowing V the time she needs. It is true grace. It’s hard for V to see it as such. But someday she will.

So I hope you look at the people in your most valued relationship and recognize that there is no met expectation. We are constantly evolving and growing and becoming. And we can be a positive and influential part of that transformation. We aren’t perfect and for some of us, we wear those imperfections on our sleeves. And pants. And shoes. Instead of becoming a source of frustration, we can look at it as an opportunity to support, serve and truly love without conditions. It really is a journey of beautiful lessons. It certainly didn’t feel that way in the beginning and for a very long time afterwards. It’s true some days I am not interested in learning one more thing but tonight I am grateful her humility and mine.

Humility does not mean

you think less of yourself.

It means you think of yourself less. ~Blanchard

I’m reading Dr. Bruce Perry’s book, “The Boy Who Was Raised As A Dog”. In the book, Dr. Perry writes about how the brain craves predictability. “The brain tries to make sense of the world by looking for patterns. When it links coherent, consistently connected patterns together again, it tags them as “normal” or “expected” and stops paying conscious attention.” Traumatized children don’t ever seem to get a break; that predictability is so illusive because their stress response is so active.

Perry, in writing about a child says, “Her attention and impulse problems might be due to a change in the organization of her stress response neural networks, a change that might have once helped her cope with her abuse but was now causing her aggressive behaviors and inattention to her classwork in school. It made sense: a person with an overactive stress system would pay close attention to the faces of people like teachers and classmates, where threat might lurk, but not to benign things like classroom lessons. A heightened awareness of potential threat might also make someone like Tina prone to fighting, as she would be looking everywhere for signs that someone might be about to attack her again, likely causing her to overreact to the smallest potential signs of aggression.”

This is part of the reason V couldn’t survive in public school. There were no patterns of consistency. There were no real efforts to provide an atmosphere of safety to minimize the fear of threats. And when V did overreact, the school administration had no idea how to regulate, calm and reassure her.

V is still struggling in the school setting at the RTC but it is such a relief to have people in charge that know exactly how to respond to her. It’s not only their response that is so great but also their constant efforts to encourage a healthy relationship even though V is constantly trying to sabotage it. They recognize her behaviors for what they are: mostly defense mechanisms. They do a beautiful job of looking beyond her behaviors and if they need to address them, they do so without inducing shame.

“Ultimately, what determines how children survive trauma, physically, emotionally or psychologically, is whether people around them- particularly adults they should be able to trust and rely upon- stand by them with love, support and encouragement. Fire can warm or consume, water can quench or drown, wind can caress or cut. And so it is with human relationships: we can create and destroy, nurture and terrorize, traumatize and heal each other.”

They must be surrounded by adults that can create consistent patterns.

“A man crosses the street in rain, stepping gently, looking two times north and south, because his son is asleep on his shoulder.

No car must splash him. No car drive too near to his shadow.

This man carries the world’s most sensitive cargo but he’s not marked.

Nowhere does his jacket say FRAGILE, HANDLE WITH CARE…” Shoulders Naomi Shihab Nye

While I was listening to The Writer’s Almanac, this stanza of the poem “Shoulders” stood out to me.

It instantly made me think of my children but especially Victoria. If ever there was a requirement for marked cargo, it certainly is her. “Fragile” would be stamped right next to “Strong”. It is this dichotomy that would leave the postal worker confused which pile to place the package. V carries around a bravado that demands express shipping but she really only feels worthy of packaged services, junk mail.

Being able to determine the care without fixating on the package is often difficult because that is the part we see most often, the outside. But we all are so much more than what can been seen and heard. The most valuable part of a person, is also the most sensitive part, that can only be felt.

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.

I’m not sure what to write about anymore. It’s been a month since V left and it honestly feels like six months. On the drive home from school this evening, I broke. I never know when it’s going to hit me but I know it’s so close to the surface.

When people ask me how I’m doing, my first response is relief. That’s what I mostly feel throughout the day knowing I don’t have the huge responsibility of regulating V and keeping everyone safe. But there is a bigger part of me that feels a larger loss than that of responsibility.

On the drive home tonight I reflected on how far I’ve come. I considered those days that I was held captive by hate, anger and acute loneliness. I was so inadequate. I thought about my effort and hours and hours of therapy to not only purify my heart but fall deeply in love with my daughter. There isn’t another soul on this planet that truly knows what I, and Victoria, had to endure to share an intimacy that is so genuine and vulnerable. I can’t compare it with any other relationship in my life. This could hardly be a called a reciprocal relationship. Most of what she has offered has been superficial and destructive. But the few moments of V’s clarity and sincerity are enough to have forged a bond that is stronger than the trail of destruction. However, those same few moments are what makes it so hard to have her gone. What I worked so hard for is the very thing that makes this hurt so much. I wish she cared enough to feel this.

Tonight’s watershed of tears is not only a beautiful and necessary release but was made all the more difficult with the holidays upon us, especially Christmas. It will be one more memory that we didn’t make and she wasn’t in. I don’t think justice will ever settle this debt. I can’t imagine how mercy will make amends? One of many things I don’t know.

Although I know having V gone is the right thing, it is painful. I am missing out on being her mom. I realize that most of the time she was here, I wasn’t valued but I so value being her mom. And I guess that’s what I’ve said all along, even if she doesn’t get better, I am so much better because of her. And I do think she will get better. And I don’t think it will be when she’s out of the house or has a baby of her own which is the only hope I hear from so many. My hopes are so much bigger than that and I can’t wait for her’s to match.

V’s desire for a better life is still stuck in some crazy fear so I have nothing new to report.

(Quotes taken from “What’s So Amazing About Grace?” by Philip Yancey)

As I was thinking about what V’s experience has done for me, I considered the word forgiveness. Before I could even begin to have the strength to forgive V nearly every day for her behaviors, whether they were intentional or not, I had to let go of a lot of other pain that I had carried for many years. “Not to forgive imprisons me in the past and locks out all potential for change” (Yancey, p.99) That change could come only with an understanding of what forgiveness is. “Forgiveness offers a way out. It does not settle all questions of blame and fairness-often it pointedly evades those questions-but it does allow a relationship to start over, to begin anew” (Yancey, p.98)

Letting go isn’t something arbitrary; it’s very purposeful and focused. And I had to have someone to “give it to”. There is an enormous amount of comfort that I’m giving to Christ something he has already taken and had no intentions for me to hang onto. Yancey says, “We forgive not merely to fulfill some higher law of morality; we do it for ourselves.” Sometimes the only healing comes to the one that does the forgiving. Just because I have chosen to forgive in my relationships doesn’t mean they are restored to some perfect form. The other person has a choice, feelings and responsibility as well. All things I have no control over. Sometimes people will respond to our willingness to forgive with increased generosity or it simply allows us to move on. Forgiveness makes no promises of reciprocity, justice may still be illusive and pain, present. But it does allow us to see the other person as human and not an object of anger and blame. Revenge gives way to a charity that can only be found under the construction of mercy. We really do begin to see the person in a different light. Again, one that may not illuminate a path where the relationship progresses but we both become free to do so. I can’t find the quote but it says something to the effect, “One act of mercy does more than a lifetime of consequences.”

Offering that one act takes far less energy than never-ending resentment but yet, we often choose the more exhausting road. Because the one act takes more courage, strength and faith, it will always be worth it. We will gain far more than justice could ever and may never serve.

The intense heartbreak has subsided. Initially placing V in an RTC was devastating but, relief and peace has set in. I don’t ponder on the “what if’s” but instead focus on “what now”.

V hit the ground running. Apparently she figured a honeymoon period wouldn’t benefit her. While she isn’t fighting as hard against the structure now, she is still very shut down and I can tell from the phone calls, she isn’t allowing herself to feel much of anything right now. And so the wait is on to see how long she will fight their care. I am hopeful though because I know she can trust. She is in an environment that can offer her that trust of care throughout the entire day. It just wasn’t possible here at home especially with school, church and all the other places that simply aren’t sympathetic or knowledgeable about what she needed.

The intensity of V was manifested so early in her arrival. It confirmed for me, that I couldn’t provide her what she needed. But I know the timing was perfect. I don’t think it could have happened any sooner, nor could I have waited any longer. I attribute that completely to relying on my faith in my Heavenly Father whom has, without fail,  directed my path with V. I know that’s why I’ve been able to find peace.

So, life has changed significantly for me and my family. The mental exhaustion is gone. I don’t even worry about her. I know she is safe. Initially I thought it was important to keep in her in state but now I am so glad I followed a different prompting. If she were close, I know I couldn’t really let go. I’d feel the need to be doing something, and visiting and there would be no rest for the weary. It was time for me to let go and let others bring their experience and expertise to helping V. I have no doubts, I have prepared her well. I am so grateful for the dedication and hard work I sacrificed on V’s behalf. Knowing I did all I could do, made letting go much easier. But those first couple of weeks were so painful. I’m glad that has given way to a sense of calm.

I haven’t decided how specific I will be as V’s story unfolds but the past few weeks have given me a lot of time to consider and reflect on my journey. I’ve talked about this lately but I just want parents to be able to look at their children’s behaviors and know nearly everything they do is to push away. And they are so good at it. I can see in V that her greatest fear was rejection and in an effort to protect herself from that, she was actually inviting it. She works hard to create tension and contention so that people will hate her. But they don’t. It’s frustrating for her and scary.

I’ve got to believe her anxiety is off the charts right now that she is unable to create the chaos. It is the chaos where she finds the control but there is no calm there. This facility creates a calm for her, that eventually I hope she chooses to embrace. I think her chances are good because although I wasn’t able to maintain it, she has felt the calm from trusting me. That alone provides me so much hope and could never have happened without a dedicated caregiver and an amazing supportive cast. In particular, a therapist, M, that has provided so much insight, knowledge and dedication. I may have shared this before but when another therapist asked V about M, she said, “I like M. He really gets me.”

And essentially that’s what our kids want~someone that will understand them in all their confusing behaviors and often impenetrable exterior. It was a long hard fight to get V to a place where she could find comfort in that. For a few years, it was simply hate. But again, that was a protective measure. We have an innate desire to be loved and wanted so when that is replaced by hate and isolation, it is simply a sign that somewhere along the way, trust was severely compromised and the brain developed to reflect that. It’s a great thing that the brain exist as potential, which means there is promise, likelihood, and capacity. Sometimes as parents that is lost in impatience, exhaustion and lack of progress. But just like V had to find comfort in people that “get her”, we must do the same. Surround yourself with people that “get you” and can offer you support and love.

It’s amazing to me that we have a innate desire to form connections but spend most of our lives avoiding them. This is magnified in attachment disorder and undermined by a lack of self worth. People with attachment problems are constantly violating boundaries in an effort to be pushed away. They “will” their very fear of rejection into reality. Loved ones often distance themselves because of hurt and throw up barriers instead of boundaries. This protects the loved one but pushes the AD further into isolation and they are hurt by the consequences. It seems insane that they could claim any harm considering they were the instigating factor. In an effort to avoid responsibility because that’s what they do, they project and blame leaving loved ones bewildered. The loved one may feel guilty or sorry for them and the cycle starts all over again and the accusations of manipulation start flying. The answer is not to push them away but bring them closer with very strong boundaries. The problem is: we don’t understand boundaries.

Pushing someone away with an AD, confirms their lack of worth. While that is not the loved ones intention, they feel justified or just don’t know what else to do. Often, we want them to feel as bad as they made us feel. But the truth is, we could never feel as worthless as they do. They never feel like they are enough which is why we continue to lower our expectations. The answer isn’t lowering expectations or isolating them. Again it’s boundaries. And the AD person must suffer some consequences but not in shame and anger. How do we do that?

Seven years later, I’m finally understanding that part. It’s not just about the other person’s boundaries, it’s very much about ours. I am looking forward to sharing about this in a workshop in January. I can’t wait to put it all together and help others that are in the tangled web to carefully untangle. It will be every Tuesday beginning Jan. 10. Specifics to come.

This experience with V has been more than just a story about a child healing from childhood trauma. The lessons I’ve had to learn about parenting such deep hurt has been a parallel journey. I’ve had to become an anchor for her. In the beginning I was a deeply inadequate life preserver.

My parenting had to go far beyond “strategies of discipline or correction”. In the book, Anatomy of Peace it says, “I become an agent of change only to the degree that I begin to live to help things go right rather than simply to correct things that are going wrong. Rather than simply correcting, for example, I need to reenergize my teaching, my helping, my listening, my learning. I need to put time and effort into building relationships. And so on. If I don’t work at the bottom of the pyramid, I won’t be successful at the top.”

There is so much work to be done before real change can happen in V and that work is mostly done in me. This guarantees that even if she stays stuck, I will be okay. I don’t need to look for justification, depend on resentment or find some temporary satisfaction in anger. The book refers to these things as boxes we put ourselves in, I refer to them as holes we dig for ourselves. All of these things require a significant amount of effort that gets us further from where we are trying to be. I can remember digging as fast as I could only to finally stop and realize I had just added to the elevation of the mountain I was trying to summit. My focus was on what things were going wrong. I’m still working on that.

It’s hard to focus on helping things go right when the other person seems to be sabotaging my best efforts. That’s when I have to consider why someone would continue to invite the sorrow and pain. There could be so many variables but I consider that there are times she simply didn’t know how to get out. There have been so many times where my tool to help her was a shovel instead of a ladder. But in saying that it brings me back to the moments where I exerted so much energy to bring over the ladder and she dismantled the rungs. What was my response? Have I been more focused on correction than supporting?

This is the balance. How do I know when I am balanced? I have a heart a peace. That doesn’t mean everything is going great. It means when things are going wrong, my heart isn’t.

It has been a whirlwind three weeks as we admitted V into inpatient and then sought thoroughly for a permanent facility for her, which happened to have an opening. I have no doubts that the peace I’ve felt, the way all the pieces have fell into place, that God is watching over me. So, if you are wondering if the prayers you offered were answered, please know that they were.

I’ve waited to blog because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to share. As I sit here, I’m still uncertain.

The hardest part over the past three weeks was the evening we took V to the inpatient unit. That morning my heart was grief stricken. I had no idea why…until later. It isn’t the first time that my heart has known things before my head. As soon as I heard from V’s respite provider that she had freaked out in her car and destroyed her room, I knew she couldn’t stay there any longer and I knew I couldn’t bring her home. We have lived many long years with this and it was enough. I knew I had done enough. I am so grateful for intimate relationship I have with my Heavenly Father that leaves me with no reservations.

There was simply no where else to take V, except to an inpatient facility. By the time we picked her up, she had settled. We drove to the ER as that’s the only way to be admitted into inpatient. We had no idea it would take six hours. Jay and I certainly weren’t prepared for that. We hadn’t eaten dinner and brought nothing with us. We were only in the waiting room for about 30 minutes. The last 5 1/2 hours were meeting with the nurse, the ER doctor, the social worker, and finally the psychiatrist all determining if she was qualified to be admitted.

Each time someone walked into the room, the same question was asked to V: Do you know why you are here?

“Because I’m a danger to myself and others,” the textbook answer replied. The first time she told her story, she said she unlocked the car door. By the time she had told the 5th person, she said she jumped out of the car. With each telling of the story, it became more sensational. I didn’t care. Actually it increased her chances of being admitted. However, when the nurse finally said, “We are going to admit her.” I went outside and wept.

I knew this admittance signified a lot of things. V was too dangerous and volatile to be in the home. I knew she was now on the fast track to residential treatment. I would have to let go. Her healing would be in someone else’s hands. The painful and long journey I endured to truly love her unconditionally wasn’t going to reciprocated. The white flag was raised, the baton has been passed. We will still be very involved in V’s life but it will hundreds of miles away.

As I write this, there is a part of me that wants to be angry. I think of Tennyson’s poem and want to curse it:

“I hold it true, whate’er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.”

I’ve said it has been so bitter at times to know V’s sweet. And yet, as I allow myself to feel the sorrow so deeply, unshielded from anger or resentment, I am so grateful for what V has taught me in her most tender moments and even, in her most destructive moments.

As we sat in the ER, for the first three hours hardly a word was said. It was as if, there was nothing left to say. V looked so distant and resigned. I didn’t even feel prompted to process anything with her. She had one question about this place she was going, “Will they feed me?” Isn’t that telling?

The hospital transported her by ambulance because they were convinced she was a danger in the car. As I rode with V, her eyes were so distant and gone. There was no connection. I said to her quietly, “It’s okay to be sad and scared.” She simply shook her head no.

As she walked into the unit at 12:30am, she had one question for the employee as they walked her away from her mother, “Do you guys have free time here?”. Once again I am a distant third to food and fun. Not a tear was shed from V during the whole event. It would be many days before she allowed that to happen.

So while there are many reasons for it to be sad for me, the real tragedy lies with V. I’m going to be okay. I have so many rewarding and loving relationships in my life that will sustain me. Thanks to V, I’ve even learned how to love others that offend, hurt and hate. I am sorry for what she has given up. In our last good-bye at the RTC, she wasn’t interested in feeling anything. She was using all of her masterful distractions so she wouldn’t allow herself to feel the pain of what was happening and yet, a few times her words were so telling. She was accusing someone of stealing her boots (already and then she said a book was missing and then said, “I’m losing everything.”

You couldn’t have known you had lost something unless you loved it first.

It is better to have worked so hard to love V and to lose it, than to have never felt it at all because those experiences allow me to know what this relationship is capable of. It is what motivates me to keep on giving even when things continue to turn out far different that I imagined them. It continues to strengthen and humble me in ways I had no idea were possible.

So yes, there are days I want to shake my fists at the heavens, throw myself down in a fit of anger and kick and scream or find someone or something to blame but I don’t. I know it isn’t productive and I don’t have time for it. I am taking that energy to school, to those I interact daily and to my family. There is so much healing to take place in this home and so many good things to come. I pray that the same will happen in V’s heart.