Starting High School

The Princess goes back to school in ten days.  Ten.  1 – 0.  10!  I cannot wait.

She, on the other hand, is as anxious as anxious can be.  Poor thing.  I know in my head what it’s all about.  Starting high school for any neuro-typical kid is hard enough.  Add trauma and developmental / social delays (a.k.a. immaturity beyond the immaturity of a NT kid) and we’re right on the edge around here.

Anyone else in these shoes? 

On one hand I can hardly wait to get her out of here and back in school for 8.5 hours a day.  On the other, I’m anxious for her, too.  And on the third hand (trauma mamas need at least 3 hands), I’m scared to death wondering whether or not she’ll pull some really big and really scary stuff now that she’s getting older.

For now, I’m dealing with a 15-year-old who behaves like she’s four and wants the privileges of a young adult.  She’s stupid lying and giving plenty of bad attitude.  She’s defiant and moody.  She’s a big ol’ pain in the butt.  And before anyone reminds me she’s a teenager, let me remind you she is my SIXTH child.  Plus, I was a challenging 15 year old.  I know how a witchy hormonal teenager behaves.  I know it’s not pretty even for NT kids.  My kid is not an NT kid.  This is different.  I’m not just blowing steam or venting or whatever you want to call it.  I’m writing because this is part of trauma parenting and despite what the Staples commercials say, this isn’t necessarily a trauma parent’s “most wonderful time of the year.”

I’m writing it to remind myself.

I’m writing it because I need to remember there’s more going on than just my kid being a pain in the tushy.

She’s scared and she doesn’t know it.  She can’t identify it. 

She told me the other day, “I’m sorry I acted like that.  I just get so ‘mad’ sometimes and I don’t even know why.”

I know why, baby.  And I am so sorry you went through what you went through.  I will try to remember you’ve been through more than I can even still imagine and I will try to catch myself and control my own triggers.  (It’s no secret that I hate being lied to.)  I will try hard to stop, breathe and relax – like I remind you to do.  I will do that so I can help you stop, breathe and relax.  I will remind you how great you really are and how very far you’ve come.  I will tell you I believe in you and I will pray that I come to mean it in a way I don’t yet fully.  

I will pray that the LORD will bless you and keep you, that He will make His face shine upon you and that He will grant you His peace that passes all understanding, and certainly any understanding I may know.

I spoke too soon . . .

Youngest Son got a call from one of the places he applied to for a job.  (As I wrote earlier, Hubby took him around to several places over the last holiday weekend.)  It's a fast food place that serves fish.  If you've read my blog for a while, you know Youngest Son is triggered by the smell of fish.

Figures.

I never would have taken him there to apply for a job.  Hubby didn't think anything of it.

Fate is a funny, funny thing sometimes, isn't it?

It figures the ONE PLACE that would call without his doing any follow up on his own would be the fish place.

We'll see what happens.  I have decided to let go of much this year.  This 2013.  I've done all I can do these last five and a half years to help these kids heal.  I just keep doing what I know.  I keep learning, but we're getting to a point and I need to let go of some things.  Youngest Son is 17.  I need to start letting go and letting God with some things.  Fish will be one of these things.  If it triggers him, he'll need to deal with it.  I can't protect him from fish smell the rest of his life.  Amen.  So be it.

An Eventful Week

Tornado that passed by Salina, Kansas
April 14, 2012

Apologies for the rather long silence here these last nine days.  We’ve had an interesting week in the TMT household.  Our schedule has included trips to the doctor, a college son’s play, a rage/meltdown by The Princess, a tornado out break, a trip to the ER, a bad reaction to pain meds, and visits with social workers.  Yes, life is never boring for very long around here.  (This statement is rather ironic because right before all these things happened, I posted in a private Facebook group of trauma mamas that things were quite calm at that time and I was wondering if I’d forgotten how to live in calm.  ‘Didn’t need to wonder for long.)

The trips to the doctor were because I tore the meniscus in one of my knees.  I’ve done it before.  I’ve also had surgery twice before to clean it up.  My family physician ordered an MRI and was sure I would need surgery again.  However, when the orthopedic surgeon read my MRI, he ordered additional x-rays.  He said surgery would only give me a 50/50 chance of relief at this point because my arthritis was already too bad in that knee.  A total knee replacement is likely somewhere down the road, but not yet.  The doctor asked me if I was afraid of falling.  I said no, that I didn’t really feel wobbly at all.  So, I got a cortisone shot.  I can get one every three months.  It helped a lot, but the day I got it was the opening night of my son's college play.  My knee hurt and was unstable for about 24 hours after the shot, so we didn’t make it to the play that night.  Whether it was me being hurt, or missing the play we planned to attend and having to wait until the next night, or a combination of both, The Princess was triggered over the top and went into a rage.  It was loads of fun.  I want to spare you some of the detail, but will share a lot of what happened so I can tell you how Hubby and I therapeutically parented our usually very sweet girl that evening.  

Our very talkative daughter would not speak.  She hid under her bed and made “G-R-R-R” sounds to express her anger.  She sat in the dark.  She would not take her shower or brush her teeth.  She wrote angry notes and threw them down the hall between the bedrooms, assuming we’d run to pick those notes up and read them.

At first, Hubby went to her room and tried to reason with her.  She has absolutely no respect for Hubby when she is triggered, so this did not work.  We knew it would not work, but Hubby tried anyway.  After that, we simply sat and watched TV, and we waited.  We waited for her to come out from under the bed.  We waited for her to pick up the notes (she handed one to me).  We waited for her to speak.

The note contained content I’ve read many times before when The Princess is angry.  She equates our love for her to the things we buy for her.  The note said we hated her, but loved the boys.  It told us how mean we were for not allowing her to have a cell phone.  It told me I was a bad mother because I would not buy her a certain pair of very short shorts.  It went on and on. 

I did not respond.  I read the note, folded it back up the way she'd given it to me, and put it down on the coffee table.

Eventually, she came out of her room, arms folded, scowl on her face, stomping down the hall and barked, “Don’t you want to talk to me?”  I said, “I will listen to whatever it is you want to say.”  She asked again if I wanted to say anything to her and I replied again that I would listen to her.  She blurted out several things.  I didn’t respond.  I just listened.  She got tired and said, “Why aren’t you arguing with me?”  I asked if it would make a difference.  She thought for a moment and said, “No.  Probably not.”

I explained I did not want to argue.  I told her there was no argument.  I told her she did not really believe the things she was saying to me – not when she was calm.  She knew I loved her and she knew I didn't give 13 year-olds cell phones.  I told her she lashes out at me whenever she’s afraid that I'm sick or worried that something may be wrong with me.  (She also does it whenever I leave for more than a day, but we didn’t go into that.)  I told her she was disappointed that she had to wait to see the play, but that she was especially frightened about my knee.  BINGO.  She ended up talking with us calmly and apologized to me the next day.

On Saturday, the entire Midwest plains experienced an out break of over 120 tornados.  This was scary, too.  The Princess and Youngest Son seemed to handle this well, however.  They participated in our precautions and preparations.  We talked about what to do if the sirens went off here.  We cleaned up the garage to get my car inside in case we got large hail (my family uses the garage as a big junk room – I’ve given up on trying to get them to keep it clean).  That’s when I fell.

I experienced the worst pain I can ever remember – even worse than childbirth.  On a scale of 1 to 10, it was a 12.  I broke my ankle – same leg as the “bad” knee.  So, off we went to the emergency room.  Thankfully, the ER was fully staffed in preparation for a tornado, and the waiting room was pretty empty because everyone was home, preparing for that possibility.  I was examined, x-rayed, wrapped and “booted” rather quickly with instructions to get to the pharmacy quickly for my pain meds, because they were closing early.  Those pain meds made me very sleepy at first.  The next day, however, they made me very sick.  This also scared The Princess.  I sure was putting her through the ringer.  Thankfully, the tornados went around us and our town saw no damage.

I went back to the orthopedic surgeon after the ankle break.  I’ll be on crutches for three weeks, wearing a boot.  Then the three weeks after that, I’ll just be in the boot.  I broke the tip of my fibula.  The surgeon gave me a different kind of pain pill, too.  It makes me very sleepy, but I don’t get sick from it.

Yesterday, I informed The Princess’ caseworker about the events of the week, so she’d know we were still working on some things.  I also wanted her to know how we’d handled things the night of the rage.  I knew she would pass this along to our therapist, who we don’t get to see until next week.  So, a different social worker is stopping by today at 1 p.m. to check in on me.  It’s okay.  She knows me.  She’s just doing her job.  It’s actually kind of nice to have someone local stop by.  Today is the first day I’m home alone since my fall.

Really though, I’d just like to go take a pain pill and get a nap.

Trauma Mama Movie Review: The Hunger Games

Honestly, I have no desire to see this movie, nor will I allow my two youngest kids to see it.  I don't care if "everyone is seeing it."  I've never been one to care too much about what "everyone" is doing.  Frankly, I do not understand why any Christian parent would think this was an okay movie.  Call me rigid (I'm not - but I care about what my kids see).  That said, I cannot give my own review of the The Hunger Games.

What I can do is encourage parents, especially parents of traumatized/attachment disordered kids, to THINK.  Use the tools we teach our kids:  Stop.  Think.  Breathe.  And then respond.  I'm not saying you're a bad parent if this movie is okay for you and your family.  I'm just saying I don't understand it.  And I always promised to be honest and real on this blog.  So, there you go.  Do you have a child who suffered neglect?  One who didn't have enough food to eat?  What about one who was abused?  Taken advantage of by adults?  Used in some sick way for an adult's entertainment?  Then ask yourself if the good of the artistry outweighs the triggers of the themes and make your decision from there.

Here is a link to Christianity Today's review of the movie:  The Hunger Games.
MPAA rating: PG-13(for intense violent thematic material and disturbing images, all involving teens)
Genre: Action, Drama
Theater release:
March 23, 2012
by Lionsgate
Directed by: Gary Ross
Runtime: 2 hours 22 minutes
Cast: Jennifer Lawrence (Katniss Everdeen), Josh Hutcherson (Peeta Mellark), Stanley Tucci (Caesar Flickerman), Woody Harrelson (Haymitch Abernathy), Donald Sutherland (President Snow), Wes Bentley (Seneca Crane), Liam Hemsworth (Gale Hawthorne)

Second Chances

Youngest Son missed passing the written test to receive his driving learner’s permit yesterday by just one question.  It was disappointing.  The experience was not bad, however, and his reaction was good.  His disappointment was at an appropriate level and he just geared himself up to come home and study some more and try again.  He did that this morning and passed.  He is so proud of himself.  Me, too.  (Yes, of me.  I did a LOT of work to get that boy to the point where he could respond appropriately to a big disappointment – to having to wait.)  I am exceedingly proud of him.

The lady at the state level DMV office yesterday just gushed over how cute he was as a 12 year old boy.  She loved the picture on his Certificate of Citizenship (COC).  Thankfully, she didn’t make the mistake so many do and say, “I wish you were mine” (or something like that).  We sure wouldn’t have needed that little trigger on my RADish boy.  It could have been step one to the spiral that turns into the whole “this is your fault” (directed at me) when he failed the test yesterday.  Step two:  I wish I belonged to that lady, too.  Step three:  You should have spent more time with me on this.  Step four:  I hate my life.  Step five:  . . . . .

Well, you get the picture.

But she didn’t say that.  And it didn’t happen.  (Thank you, LORD!)

And therapy (DBT) taught him to feel the feelings, know he could be triggered, but reel those feelings in and respond appropriately.   So, if you see a car going in ovals around an abandoned store’s parking lot today and there’s a teenage boy and a frightened-looking middle aged mom in the front seat, it may be us.  Yay us!

Trauma Triggers

The ministry team at our church asked me to share a list of things I observe as trauma triggers in The Princess and Youngest Son, and to also list things I’ve observed as trauma triggers in other adopted children.  Below is the list I gave them.  (I didn’t want to overwhelm them with too many things all at once.)

I'm posting the list here so others can refer to it.  You may want to share this with a teacher friend, or youth ministry team leader you know.  Perhaps, you’ll add some things of your own to this list in the comment section for this post.  I will add some myself with an (*) after the list I gave our ministry team.

Universal Trauma Triggers (things I’ve seen most internationally adopted kids, and many foster/adopt kids react to on some level)

Blood, gore, dead babies, dead animals, dying people, people starving in Africa (pretty much any topic you THINK they SHOULD know about should really be discussed with the parents of traumatized kids first).

Orphan care ministry (triggers survivor’s guilt).

Talk about the “blessing” of adoption (triggers guilt for caring about bio family).

Movies about adoption, movies where adoptive parents are portrayed as evil or mean, movies about orphanages, child trafficking, sex trafficking, child abandonment.  (Parent permission before showing movies might be a good standard practice in children’s and youth ministry.)

Talk about a child being adopted – even if everyone already knows it.  Adopted kids don’t want to be the topic of discussion; they just want to fit in

Loud noises, alarms, sudden changes, changes in routine, new teachers/leadership can also be triggers for many adopted kids.

Do not assume adopted kids, especially older, internationally adopted kids that lived in orphanages, know what you’re talking about.  Their world knowledge is VERY limited and it will take significant time to “catch up” on things most people would think “everyone” knows.

*Holidays, especially Halloween and Christmas.  Birthdays, pretty much any celebration, especially if it isn’t all about them.

*Too much “stuff.”  Our kids are overwhelmed with too many choices – everything from a full menu at a restaurant, to too many clothing choices, and too many toys.

*Affection from people other than family members.

*Gifts – even little gifts like a piece of candy.

*Rewards – especially if they’re for doing something any well-behaved kid SHOULD be doing anyway.

Triggers more specific to Youngest Son and The Princess (but can also be triggers for other adopted kids, too):

Talk about suicide, especially suicide by hanging.

Talk about alcoholism, prostitution, divorce.

Talk about their birth country.

When people ask them what their “actual name” is – yes, this has happened in youth group.  Their “actual” names are the names they have now.

Questions about their orphanage or their life in Eastern Europe, including questions about their birth family.  (Youth group members need to learn this is inappropriate conversation.)

Certain smells can be triggers, including fish, fried potatoes, and anything burned.

Questions about therapy or medications.

People assuming they know what is being talked about – for example, The Princess became very upset about hearing one of the youth leaders had a miscarriage – not because she understood what that was, but because she felt stupid, and like “everyone was talking in jibberish.” 

*When one of our older boys comes home to visit.  (It messes with routine, territory, and attention issues.)

*Any new recipes Mama T tries for supper.

*Painting the house, or moving the furniture.

*Other kids not having coats on when it’s cold outside.

*People leaving their animals outdoors.

*When a child is being publicly disrespectful – like in a store.

Other ideas?  Please do share below.  I love on-topic comments!